YOu that call your sins your duty, obey your Ladies Riots, pre­serve her spittle to cure your salt Itch, and thred in Bracelets the Pearls that drop from her Authentick Nose.

Cuds heart Sir, what do you mean?

To cleave you from the Scull to the Twist, make nine Skittles of thy bones, and wind thy Heart-strings about my Thumb.

Sir, have a care what you do; so rotten are my limbs, that if you blow on me too hard, I am straight scatter'd into sand.

Coward, creep into my Hour-glass then, and there eternally di­stinguish fatal time.

What Slave disturbs my quiet?

Ne're look Sir, I serve my Lady, and scorn to yield.

Dost bristle Pork pine?

Take heed Sir, I have the Malady of France.

Withdraw your violence; if you disorder but a hair that belongs to my meanest Groom, I will proclaim my superiority and rule i'th' streets.

Hell cannot miss thee long.

Insult in thy own Pigs sty, this Apartment calls me Soveraign: To­ny, send in one that waits there.

What will she do at last?

A slow device Sir, but of my own brain.

What art thou?

A kind Guest invited here.

To what?

To taste your Wives Gammons.

Bold Sir, be in your speech more plain.

I come to get Children for you.

Do you want plainer Paraphrase; he is my servant Sir, my Stallion if I please, a Courtly complement, and much in use among Ladies of my growth and blood.

O my cold blood, this Woman will distract me.

You see I'm furnish'd, now your Concubine may share you and the house in peace.

I step my ears to thy bold clamours: But for you Sir, the mi­nutes you must waste on Earth are few.

This I consider Sir, and therefore make such hast to mingle with your Wife, that the kind World may have some Issue from my Loyns.

If this prove true, may Cats piss out my eyes.

Hold weak Jeff. or else I'le wound thy heart.

If you advance one inch beyond that Chink, Ple through the streets blow your Dirge, with the great Horn that grows upon your Brow.

A whole shower of Gall is fallen at once.

'Uds life Sir, I come to ease the labour of your body, and you want courtesie to return thanks.

Hang him ingrateful.

But what hereafter I perform, shall be for your Ladies sake, not yours.

For all this, I know you will not wrong my Bed.

Who told you so?

I read it in your Noble Feature, and your shape.

The better shapt I am Sir, the more cause you'l have to love the Is­sue I shall get upon your Wife.

I know thou scorns to do't.

Not I, believ't Sir, I must do't; is your Lady fruitful, I would be loth to loose my labour on her.

Death and the Devil.

I'le have a Trumpet and a Drum, and sound to the world thy living shame.

O fie Sir! what own your disgrace aloud, as if you were proud on't.

Nay it becomes you finely.

You think because you'r eurst we'll allow you short Horns; no, I'le grast upon your head a pair so tall, they shall go near to prick the very Planet that rul'd at your Nativity.

He sleeps.

Take down a Cushion and pray Sir, you cannot chuse but know the frailty of the times, the surfeits of the Womb, and how great Ladies use to relieve their appetites; your own confession of my parts commends your Wife in her choice; there be them that fin with feeble Ushers, and wither'd Dwarss.

He wants judgment to consider this.

I merit better looks Sir, that must thrash all night for you, and without wages too Sir.

Dead as a Monument let us leave him.

Hadhe chose the Devil for h [...]s Physiclan, he could ne're come by the like Cordial,

I follow you.

The day begins to break; and trembling light, as if affrighted with the nights disaster, steals through the farthest ayr, and by degrees salutes my weary longings: new fears assault me; 'tis a Womans voice, and chearfully expresses her freedome: Be propitious thou Regent of my Fate, and guide her hither to my comfort.

Ha! what silken Butterflies yonder; she looks not like one that had kept her self warm at the Brick-kills; yet silk Petticoats many times are glad of worse lodging.

Goodmorrow Maid.

Should I salute you so, 't would bring my wit in question: pray what are you?

A distressed Maid.

A Maid at your years, and so near London! where the sale of a Maidenhead at fifteen is as rare as a light Wenches Conversion.

Good Maid, Wise, or Widdow, for sure you are a woman, do me a courteous office, and guide me to some house.

It seems you are a kind Country Gentlewoman, that has bestow'd your Maidenhead on your Fathers man, and are come up to have a Citizen salder your broken ware; the policy is grown stale, 't would hardly take, ever since the Ballet curst the Carrier that brought her to Town.

Do you from the abundance of your own ills suspect mine?

The Toy is angry, it would fain counterfeit something to make me her Agent but you are deceived my pretty morsel of wantonness, my self and my Pale are both honest; I am not the Blades Intelligencer, whether Doll and M [...]ll remove their lodgings to escape the Constable, and Bridewell: I will to my Cows, and leave you to the fate of the morning; dispair not of a Customer, but be sure I catch you not napping, for if I do, expect no mercy, for I hate Hedge-coupling worse than sasting at Christmas.

If you are good, stay and comfort me, the sense of my distress stops further speech.

Ha! she sounds poor Gentlewoman; should she miscarry, I were in danger of being thought her Murdercss; alas she's dead: why Tony, To­ny, help me, a Gentlewoman is fallen dead.

Why, what is she dead?

Nay, that's as hard to tell as the success of my danger.

Is she quite dead?

I, I, quite dead.

And are not you in a pickle Margery? she is not dead, she moves.

Pull her by the Nose.

I, I, pull it off; no matter for spoiling her face, if she be dead.

Wring her by the little finger.

Her little finger is ring'd, and l'de wring it off if I could.

No robbing of the dead Tony.

Why, what a Devil should the Dead do with living moveables?

Cast water in her face.

Blow wind in her Arse; can water make one alive that's dead, un­less it be hot water?

She surs, give her more ayr.

E're you return me to my angry Unkle, my soul shall fly, and meet with my dearest imbraces.

Why, what a Devil do you mean, Mistress Gentlewoman.

You are murtherers of all my content, you serve the world for base reward, and that shall render you base to opinion.

Prethee Margery let me conjure down this Devil in her tongue, 't will raise a Tempest else, murdere [...]s and base? pray Gentlewoman, who do you speak all this to?

To you, the injurers of my love.

Hey day! she's mad; love with a vengeance; come, come, I must take her aside, and give her satisfaction.

I pity your feeling sorrows, would I could comfort you.

Since my distress has made me an object of your pity, pray lead me to some house, for I am wondrous saint.

That I will, what e're comes on't,

But pray Margery forget not my Breaksast; rising early, and ram­bling about, has got me a good stomach; yet I could be content to fast with such laced Mutton, and a good Callice, more than half a morning.

The blind that Lovechange and I cast upon our actions, must be with­drawn with discretion, lest my Reputation fall in the Encounter.

Here's my Lady; now for a trick to put upon her to revenge my Masters wrongs: Madam, as I was in the Market to fetch sweet Bryar, I met a Maid; she told me she was in danger of losing a piece of ground which was her own by Inheritance, and left her by her Mother, now there's a Knight would fain inclose it, and lay it to part of his Mannour.

Where lies this Land?

Not far off; she would be content to let him enjoy it after her de­cease, if that would serve his turn.

Has she given you any writing to make me better understand the matter?

This is the Survey, not only of the Mannour it self, but the Mea­dow, Pasture, P [...]ow land, Coney-borrow, Fish-pond, Hedge, Ditch and Bush that [...]ds in't,

My Husbands hand to't, and a Love-letter; where had it you?

From the aforesaid party, that would fain keep the foresaid Land from the foresaid Knights fingers.

Sir Jeffery turn'd Ranger?

Madam, you are a good Hunteress; though she love now and then to have a private Borrow ferrited for her own pleasure, yet she won't allow him to run down a Deer: Sir Jeffery would fain be a Ranger, hut she re­quests you to let him run a Course in your own Park; if you'l not do it for love, then do't for money; she has no Silver, but there's Gold; or else she prays you to Ring him by this Token, and so you shall be sure his Nose will not be routing in other folks Pastures.

This Purse and Ring was mine, I know them; to requite your pains, take thou the Gold.

No not I, so I may be call'd in question if I came honestly by it.

Nay, that's true Madam, a Wench can whet anything, if it be not too dull.

What is the Creature?

One of those Creatures that are contrary to Man, a Woman.

What manner of Woman?

A tiny Woman, lower than your Ladyship by the head and shoul­ders, but as mad a Wench as ever untyed a Petticoat.

Why should she send back these, and by you?

Ware, ware, there's knavery i'th' wind.

Did not he send them by you?

Never, never, I hope you won't put that upon me.

Are you só close you Baud, you Pandering Slave?

Why how now Wife, what's your quarrel?

Out of my sight base Varlet, get thee gone.

Away you Rogue; what grown a fighter; prethee what's the matter, how you change, surely you are not well.

All is not well indeed.

Why dost kneel?

Earth is sins Cushion, Sir Jeffery, Husband I dare not call thee; I have stoln that Jewel of my chast Honour, which was only thine, and gi­ven it to a slave.

Ha!

On thy Pillow Adultery and Lust have slept, thy Groom has climb'd the unlawful Tree, and pluckt the sweets, a Villain has, usurp'd the Husbands Sheets.

Did I out of a sound faith in you forget the Go [...]tish Monster you entertained, thinking not to fret my soul by your seeming ludeness, and now to act the sault indeed; 'uds death, who wast made me a Cuckold, who wast?

Your man Tony.

Worse than damnation, bold Strumpet, hang not on me, think'st I'le be a Baud to a Whore, and my Wife too?

All I beg is, use me how you will, but darken the Clouds of my shame.

How, conceal my Horns, they cannot be hid, nor shall my re­venge; could not I feed your appetite?

But how drew you him in, or could he bewitch you, how was the manner?

Why thus: First he assaulted me with this Battery of beaten Gold, yet I held out; but at last, when this was shot, it charm'd me: what, do you change? who sent this Diamond to your Wench? could not I feed your appetite?

Guilty Sir Jeffery?

Yes guilty, my Lady.

O'rereach'd so finely; 'tis the very Diamond and Letter which I sent; this Villain has discover'd all: well, this is the second trick she has put upon me; she varies more in mind than e're the wind had points, still I the fool must be; but if I break her, who is she or me.

ACT II.

I Hope you are satisfied; but to what end this change is, I would fain be instructed.

I'le tell you, when I left my Unkles house, in a few minutes I was pursued; now this disguize shall help me scape the search.

Now out upon't, had I no better opinion of your honesty than of your wit, both which smell altogether of the Country, I'de leave you to seek your own Adventures: you have gentilifi'd me with your Cloaths, and you are handsome enough in mine; for though I am but a Milk-wench, I ever lov'd neatness: now you shall be my Maid, and wait on me to the Ci­ty, if I find not out your Sweet heart, let me ne're be accounted a Prophe­tess; and I'm sure I have foretold weather from the turning up of my Cows Tail.

Dispose of me as you will now, love has arm'd me with resolution.

In this disguize I'le meet the Blade that Courts me every morning when I go a Milking to Islington, my condition is too low to win upon his desires to marry me, and the other thing without it he shall never have, for I conceive it will not be for my honour.

Why Margery, Margery, I say, my Breakfast; a quick supply of meat, drink, and sleep, or I ragepresently.

Bless me, what's that!

Why 'tis Tony, my Masters Rogue, and my Ladies Knave.

He'll spoil all again.

Where's this clean-wash'd Chitterline, come give me my Breakfast: Hay day! Margery gentlefi'd, and this Mistress that was ready to die for love Margerifi'd! Now I swear hy Hunger, and that's a strong Oath, I think wo­men have more Vagaries, than the Devil would have Clients, if he were a Lawyer, and pleaded without Fees.

Keep counsel Sirrah, you had best; and if my Lady ask for me, say I wont be lost long: so farewel Tony.

You will not be lost long, he's likely to have a sweet match of it that finds you, yet I could be content my seven yearsservice were no worse rewarded, but the Baggage is as coy as an Aldermans eldest Daughter; she has beaten me a hundred time (Coward that I was for suffering it) for at­tempting to kiss her: if my hand had slipt going over a Stile or so, 'twould not have vext me to have kist her hand so, though thrown in my face; but now I will revenge it upon her Cream Bowls, over whose sweets I will triumph.

New mischief, I am again delaid, if I forbear my Breakfast but two mi­nutes longer, my Guts will shrink to Minikin, which I'le bequeath to the poor Fidlers at Islington for a May·day Legacy.

Mr. Wenchlove, such a kind of woman my Maid met withall, but as how I am ignorant: Sirrah, call Margery forth.

Which, your Margery Gentlewoman, or your Gentlewoman Mar­gery?

Your trifling's unseasonable, Sirrah.

Why Madam, Margery is no more plain Margery, but Margery in silks, the Gentlewoman and she are run out of themselves one into another.

But where are they?

For ought I know run away one with another.

Do you run after, and call'um back.

'Tis impossible, who knows which way they are gone? besides 'tis a mist would choak a Brewers Horse, I can't see one hand from t'other.

Madam, my sufpition prompts me you are treacherous, and these fair seeming undertakings traps to catch me.

Nay then what Mr. Lovechange has told me is true: Sirrah, do you try to overtake them, and we'll follow.

Oh killing Command! the best is it break my Heart, no matter then for my Belly; Hunger I defie thee, Revenge I hug thee, I will lead [Page 8] a Wild-goose Chace till I come to Islington, where I will score two dozen, and reckon with my Hostesses Maid, whose Belly I have fill'd with Mary-bones and Pudden.

Now Madam, why do you look so wistly on me?

I, I, 'tis so, now the love of mans society defend me from this abu­ser of Creation; come not near me thou man of Cloats, thou Mauking of Virility, thou half woman, and all beast, or with these Nails I will tear out thy eyes, and all the double things about thee.

Be milder Madam, there's nothing in me appears to my self so full of guilt, that it should deserve a reproach from you a stranger.

There's nothing in you indeed Sir, your friend has given me your Character; you pretend to hate women, because women have reason to hate you.

I hate women by my love of pleasure, no delight has any relish on the wanton palat of my desires, unless seasoned with what's derived from them.

Yes Sir, you may take delight in them, but they little in you; come not near me, there's infection in't; my blood desires no freezing, the Sum­mer of my Youth is not yet half spent, or if it were Winter with me, high feeding and ease requires something.

She takes me for an Eunuch sure, Lovechange has overdone his part; she has foil'd him, and now he hopes my downfal: sweet Madam hear me, I love you, and my desires are throughly fired, and burn my blood, which no­thing can squench but your free enjoying.

Say you so, why I am a Woman Sir.

I think you are, and one made up for pleasure more than the dull converse of what's defective.

You say true Sir, I hear it with a heavy heart, but I hope Sir you would not have me make my Husband a Cuckold; I'le lead him by the Nose till I put a trick upon him.

Fie, that's a gross construction, only shame and common knowledge does it, not the act of a Wives wantonness.

I need no instructions for secresie, trust me a handsome Gentlewo­man, dare you kiss me Sir?

Now it may come about a Pledge for what shall follow,

Pray Sir, is this a fit place to make ones Husband a Cuckold in?

Oh the fittest place in the world, let not any weak excuse rob my hopes of enjoying you.

Sir, I defie weakness, should some of my servants come.

Ha Wenchlove! all the Race of mankind is false, I'e watch this eager pursuit he has put upon my Lady, and find a way for revenge; I do love, but 'tis honourably: and that's a Crime now a days.

Come, come, we loose the time that might make the pleasure fruitful.

Indeed I durst e'ne venture to make him a Cuckold, if I were sure you would get a Boy.

Oh! that's doubly sweet.

And shall he be like the Father?

As ever Citizens Son was.

I mean my Husband.

I am a Courtier.

Kind Sir, you deserve it for your policy; but I am so fraid.

Mischief on these delays.

Artezhim, where are you?

O me! what shall I do? my Honour, my Honour!

Vexation racks me, prevented at the very point of happiness.

Pray hide your self, Sir Jeffery will bolt out this way I fear.

Pox on't where, where?

Happy fortune; here's an empty Tub, get in as nimbly Sir, as if you were a leaping your Neighbours Pale to have a run at his Deer.

O Artezhim l I have got a sound Bottle in my head, it o're-char­ges me.

You make no scruple of pressing upon Womens Retirements.

Would he was drunk as the Devil with Wine mixt with Opium, that he might sleep for a fortnight.

Hum, what's that Wife? O my stomack's sick as a Cat after eating Candles ends.

Would there was nine Kitlings in't.

Step into the Yard, let not the servants see your debaucheries.

O I am taken quick! why not in this Tub?

Fie Beast, defile a necessary implement of Huswifry; you have been drinking of Healths to Cuckolds, your old frolick.

He might have been one himself had not the Devil brought him home an hour too soon.

O Madam! where's Sir Jeffery? Fie, fie, what flinch us, and run home.

O my head, Mr. Lovechange, my head; what shall I do Wife?

You have received a blow of the forehead, it looks as if 'twere swell'd.

No Sir, you nor no man else has given him a bloW there yet, I can't tell when it may be done, there's no more than what has been ever since I was his Wife, three years and more, a long time of barrenness.

O Lord, Madam! why stay you here? we are a coming to wash.

Oh! Oh! I am sick, I am sick.

Hold, hold, 'eds will you drown'd me.

How now Tom, what makes you here?

Oh mischief on you Sir, you have spoil'd a good Vomit; I'le lay my life he hid himself from my Wife; you told me he was a woman hater: alas poor Gentleman, to see how things will happen.

Hell take your Wife, and you too; accursed woman that in your curse made man so; Pox of your delays, and fearful denials.

What, scold so quickly after you Cucking?

Good heart, but that he can't endure a woman, he should kiss my Wife for amends.

I came hither Sir, for something else than to be scolded at.

Come, come, vex him no more, I'le go sleep a little.

There will be a safe opportunity for me, I love this Cuckold-making.

Though you intended a Reformation for your self, you might for-bear me, this was your plot.

Mine! I never resolved staidness, but I could alter for my plea­sure, nor can I hate or envy it in others, I am only sorry Tom that you should drink water after your sweet Meats.

O Tony, have you made any discovery?

Have you been in search of the two Wenches I saw cross the Fields towards Islington.

O then you took notice of 'um; she in the Silk-Gown you shall have Mr. Lovechange, and the Milk-wench you shall have Mr. Wenchlove, I have been condogging with her about it.

Thanks honest Tony, there's something for thee.

So Sirs, now here, now there, and now here.

But Tony, what is the Milk-wenches condition?

Oh womanish, Sir; she'll cry when she's angry, laugh when she's tickled, and be sick when she can't have her will.

I mean her Calling.

She is call'd Margery.

Her Profession then.

Not very honest, and yet very honest; she cheats all the world that thinks she is wanton; but you will find that neither your Aunts, nor your Cosins, can keep their Legs so close.

There's more money for thee, I will try that.

You are as bountiful as a new-made Knight that's in hope of pre­ferment.

But what sayst thou to that I must have; how was she born?

Why that you had best ask the Midwife.

Is she a Gentlewoman, or not?

She is, and she is not; she is a Gentlewoman, because she loves pride, which makes Gentlewomen apt to fall, especially waiting Gentlewomen; then she is no Gentlewoman, because, because, because.

Prethee no more.

'Tis well he interrupted me, for 'egad I had no more Reason than a Horse: But Sir, I will bring her to the bar of your presence, where she may answer for herself, whilst I convert your bounty into wholesome nourish­ment, from a Bottle of Canary, and have about with my own Turnep.

By your leave, fair Maid.

What would you have Sir?

A little pleasure Sweet; come, come, what's your price?

You mistake me, I assure you Sir.

As if I had not practised Wenching sufficiently to understand a seeming modesty, I'le come to your Lodging when I know where it is: but say your price, a Guiney, or half a Crown.

Have I found you Gallant, 'tis he who I too fondly do affect: but mum, the truth is Sir, I have a Maiden-head yet, though it be agreed for, therefore I am dearer Sir.

Nay Sweetheart, thou shalt serve, thy Mistress is too dear, I am loath to pay too dear for Repentance; 'tis but changing Offices, let her hold the door for thee.

Pray speak, and mean civilly, you'l not be welcome else.

Good Lady light heels, give your servant leave to practise the Trade you have taught her, that such perfection as appears in this woman should be sold to every base desire: come Wench, I like thy brown com­plexion, thou dost not paint, and art the likelier to be the wholesomer.

Good Gentleman, he's jealous, and would circumvent her.

Here's half a Crown Girl, methinks 'tis a fair rate.

What's in me to grant you shall command.

I take your word, the pleasure of your Bed I must have, I will re­ward it with a new Gown; come dally not with coy denials.

I marry Sir, but not in this place; but if you please.

Now Jealousie instruct me, I fear this woman's nought.

'Tis a motion I like, the pains will make the pleasure more sweet in the enjoying.

Mr. Lovechange, I'le in a word inform you.

How Fate conspires to make me miserable?

I thank thee, and approve of thy advice; what say you Tom to the Fidlers?

With all my heart, send in the Minstrils.

I, I, we will be merry, and in the gallant fashion: Gentlemen, Musick is common, no man shall stop my ears, nor my throat, we must put in amongst you.

By all means Tony, 'twill compleat the Medly.

Nay, we know what belongs to that.

Come away.

ACT III.

O The effects of drinking! I could e'ne curse my own kindness, that am ready still to make more of him, than he does of me.

Why don't you then?

What Sir, I warrant you'd make him a Cuckold.

'Tis only giving a friend leave to do you a pleasure in earnest, which you made me make him believe I would do: the truth is, I do now love you heartily, and have dallied my self into a flame.

Nay, Mr. Lovechange, you were ever kind, but are you as well arm'd as you used to go if he should prove subborn: now 'twill work.

No faith, I must trust to my single valour; come, demur not, let me enjoy those forbidden sweets, be assured my secresie is as firm as Night and Locks.

Secresie, Mr. Lovechange, no, I'le be open to all the world, nor will I distinguish places, dark or light, 'tis all one to me, were it before my Hus­bands face.

Hear then, he sleeps securely, never dreaming of any Foreheads arming.

Fie Sir, you are such a tempter, pray forbear, many a woman would not hold out so long.

Consent then sweet Lady, and we'll to it straight.

(Snores) Ware Horns there.

O mischief! what noise has waked him?

An infirmity he has got to talk in his sleep: nay, I assure you, he will rise sometimes, and do the office of a waking man in his dream, and not know of it in the morning.

Room for a Head man of the Parish, a Monster of his Wives making.

O wicked man! he dreams now that I would make him a Cuckold.

Pray Jove it be no counterfeit.

And have I taken you Sir Lancelot? would you be billing with my Guinivere?

Help to pull him off, Madam.

For this attempt King Arthur does degrade thee, from a Knight of his Round Table, to be a Squire of his VVives Body; so conduct me to my Bed, where I will beget a Race of VVarriours shall Cage the Great Turk again! and restore Constantinople to the Emperour.

You mistake: Oh! 'uds death, my Perriwig is not a Turbant.

Peace follows Victory, now let me rest.

Pray Sir forgive him, I dare undertake he'll be sorry when he wakes, if any thing I can do can make amends.

Prove his dream true, when the smart's over I shall forget.

Madam, some Ladies in the house are not well, and desire your as­sistance.

VVho wants assistance? who breaks the Kings Peace? fetch me a Constables Staff.

He'll dream again, had I best stay?

Now Drunkard, are you recover'd yet?

VVhat. Mr. Lovechange, and my Wife, where's the rest of your Company?

Gone, being weary of such a Sot as you are, to be drunk so early: I had done well to have served you in your own kind; here was Company enough to have brought me home, and some not far off that used me kindly, whilst you snorted to fright the Fleas, and dream perhaps some wickedness of me.

Come, come, I'le buy my pardon with a new Gown, and a journey into the Country for a Month.

You know I am easie to be wrought upon.

Will you discharge Mr. Lovechange?

Not so willingly, though I value it not; no revenge of this dream­ing Fox: what is the Reckoning?

Nine and eleven pence.

How's that? let's have the particulars, Mr. Lovechange shall know how he parts with his money.

Shall he so, kind Sir?

Why Sir, Cakes two shillings, Ale as much, a quart of mortified Claret eighteen pence, stew'd Pruens a shilling.

That's too dear.

Truly they cost a peny a pound of the one-handed Costermonger, out of his Wives Fish Basket; a quart of Cream half a Crown.

That's excessive.

Not if you consider how many Carriers Eggs miscarried in the making of it, and the charge of Isinglass, and other ingredients, to make Cream of the sour milk.

All this does not amount to what you demand.

I can make more, two three peny Papers of Sugar a shilling, than you had bread Sir.

Yes, and drink too Sir, my head takes notice of that.

'Tis granted Sir, a pound of Sausages, and forty other things, make it right, our Bar never errs.

This can't be, I'le talk with your Mistress my self.

I, do Sir, know what you do, put it to her Conscience.

Owl, when do you think he'll find that, she's too deep for you or him either; prethee talk sense.

No matter, he'll pay all; where is he Tapster?

Gone Sir.

How, gone! give me my Sword and Belt.

I must have the Reckoning first.

Must I pay, must I?

This revenge he took for your beating him in your sleep, I war­rant you never dreamt of all this now,

Has he such tricks? well, 'tis no matter, 'tis but a large Groat for ebng drunk. Here Sirrah.

My Master must have a fair Course with you; and so he bid me tell you, besides what other kindnesses he will do for you: but stuff your Pannier, he's resolved to do.

Ah Anthony! why should his lustful thoughts be bent at me? some timely Guardian Angel rescue me from his foul intent.

A Pox of this whining; what an unreasonable thing you are? there's hardly a quarter in the house that you may not rest your limbs in; and because he has a mind to tire himself in one quarter of yours, you count your self ill used.

When time gives me a more fair way of opening my self to the world, I'le gratifie thee, if you will but contrive or help to avoid this snare design'd for my ruine.

Why, is not this pretty? she refuses the thoughts of my Masters singly opening of her; yet in a breath, she says she'll do it to all the world.

I must confess I am a stranger, and have stragled to this house, and have received my Lady Jolts protection, but yet in return of their bounty I would not shipwrack my Fame: where's Margery? I'le straight consult with her about it.

I know what she'll say, Pox on him for a Baudy Knight; nay, and very likely call him Cuckold too, for she is pretty well acquainted with the Constitution of my Ladies longings; but since I find thou hast that out-of-fashion quality in thee, Honesty, I'le assist thee, and save thy Mouse-trap from being baited with Sir Jefferies dry Cheese.

O how shall I give thee thanks fast enough!

Not a word; I am afraid she's fallen in love with me, and will come on with a powder when she falls to: so to secure all, I'le tell my Lady to spoil him, and fill my Belly soundly to fill hers: Mrs. Isabella, I'le not forget you, adieu.

You are informed how I have design'd the matter; that is, I must be brought to your Lodging in a Basket, as some Moveable Commodity for your special use; my Master is coming this way, therefore about your occa­sions, I'le be at your Chamber instantly.

Well, pretty Maid, I will not doubt your performing your pro­mise: to say any more, were but to retard my joys; I'le fly to my Lodging, where in the dear expectation of your coming I'le languish, not to be revived but by your sweet sight: so sweet Mistress adieu.

Oh unkind Wench! hast thou forgot thy Isabella, and all thy Vows and desperate Protestations?

Since we have agreed no way but that can be safe, therefore in that great Basket within be you packt up, and directed to me, I'le find out an ex­cuse for my not showing you, I need not say any more.

Ha, my Brother with Margery too! what can this whispering mean?

Pox on't, I do love this Wench; but if I can eat a Meal gratis, 'tis better than to have that Bug-bear Marriage for an everlasting standing Dish: I'le try all ways, if this fail, then I'le take her for better or for worse: Well, into the Basket I go, be as speedy as you can.

I'le be there straight.

O Margery! thy instant help, or I am most miserable.

Hold, I know your grief, Sir Jeffery, is the cause, I heard him a dealing with Anthony about it, but I can blow that off with ease; make him an appointment, the time, place, and dress, and then let me alone to com­pleat the Comedy.

Thou hast mitigated my passion with thy promis'd assistance; but what said my Brother to thee?

Your Brother, who's your Brother?

Vertuous Maid, I'le relie on thy secresie, Mr. Lovechange is the man, but conceal it till your Plot has had its scope, then I'le discover more.

Ha! you Mistress Isabella Lovechange, and I not peep into you till now; 'tis she: well, since you have told me one thing, then I'le tell you ano­ther to requite you, I love Mr. Lovechange your Brother.

Love my Brother, O beware!

If my Beauty, which has been flattered for a taking one, can win upon his desires, I'le soon work him to what I please; nay, rather than the Project fail, he shall enjoy; but fairly, I have another discovery, but that's for the closing pin.

Well, as to your love of my Brother, I'le joyn with you when things are ripe, I have but one doubt.

What may be that I am not a Gentlewoman, you shall know that there's many a Gentlewoman has stroakt the Dug: Hark, I hear Wenchlove I must retire, call for the Basket, all shall be well.

I'le force my passion for once, here's the Gentleman: hold Heart, can he be so near, and I not reproach him?

Now Wench, is all ready?

I have packt her up like a Dormouse in a Box, I warrant you for hurting her.

'Tis a good Wench, I'le give thee a fine Petticoat for this.

I thank you Sir; when you are a weary of my Mistress, and cast her off, as I know you must have change, you shall have my Maidenhead at the same rate; if you please, I'le keep it for you.

With all my heart.

Pray use her ne're the worse for my promise.

The better I'le turn her off within this fortnight, and send for thee.

O Sir! 'tis not fit a Servant should shift her Mistresses Plate before the Bones are clean pickt; you have Flesh enough to hold out a Month.

It shall be a Month then.

Pray Sir let me ask you one question.

Quickly then.

How many Maidenheads have you bought thus?

Some nineteen with thy Mistress.

Pray let me make up the score an even reckoning.

It shall, it shall; go away with your burthen-fellows, farewell Wench.

Now Mistress, what think you of it? have not I taken a course to let the Blades find their errour?

Now I am instructed wholly to commend your Vertue, and steer my course by your example; 'tis time to be gone, Lust is a guilded Pill,

And is she resolved? shall I enter the Port securely?

The Harbour is deep, yet the water flows but seldome, the passage free from drownding: But should my Lady know this.

Oh, ne're fear that, she has had her fling, and still she bobs me with it, only devises to try me.

She has try'd you too much her own way, I believe therefore I think she need not doubt you now with any other: but the Plot is thus; the Young Sinner that must be, if you can make her so, will come like Mother Red Cap to buy Malt of you; then take her into the Counting House, and try what Figure you can bring her to; a Cypher you need not fear, and the round O is the compleating of your sum.

Anthony, I'le give thee Margery for this exploit, but you must be ve­ry careful my Wife take not the sent.

I'le set a naked man in her way Sir, that will imploy her longer than you will be playing the blunt Prize of dried Mary-bones, and young Coney-skins.

I'le vow 'tis heavy.

That's strange, and she a light Wench.

You say true Sir, 'tis enough to break ones back.

His mistake hits upon truth, rest you a while then, O witty Luxu­ry! how it accutes invention, makes barren faculties beget new issues of rare conceipts: Pox on't, here's Sir Jeffery Jolt, he'll certainly stop me: Oh how I long to see how she looks after this close confinement! she thinks to have me closer anon, and so she shall.

O Tony! so there's VVenchlove, what must we do with him?

Well enough, he's upon the like design, see what's in the Basket.

O Mr. VVenchlove, what's here? let's see, I can't open it; what's in't? what's in't?

Would 'twere his Wife, I'd be revenged for this rudeness: let it a­lone, Sir Jeffery, 'tis only a thing that I have a great mind to experiment.

Look Tony, what shall I do now?

To her, ne're mind him, ne're mind him: now 'ware a Storm.

'Tis needless to trifle time, I love, and must enjoy thee.

Oh fie Sir! what will your Lady say to this, if we be catch'd?

Fear not that, good Cuckquean, she'll ne're think of such a thing.

What, Mother Red Cap? how goes Cakes and Maidenheads? This is not Mother Red Cap: what, my Lady Jolt?

Let him ne're see my face more. O indignity to my Beauty! die you weak Villain: O me! how shall I vent my passion?

I can hold out no longer, let me out.

Whence came this voice? what, have you got an Humble Bee in your Basket, or a Flesh Fly?

'Uds death, I have been sufficiently mortifi'd.

How came all this?

I'le tell you, bargaining for a little pleasure with a young Gentle­woman, whom I thought to be a Wanton, she ingaged me in this Adventure to come to her.

Pox on't, I am baffled in the same Noose, I expected her to be in the Basket: Oh! where is this witty Contriver?

Here Sirs, and am come to laugh at all your follies; for I know Sir Jeffery is in the same Labyrinth: but we must make all well again, for he was set on by Tony, and me; but he and she thought it true, Madam Jolt is privy to all this.

'Tis truth, Jeff. this I'le forgive, but no more, if you do, I go to work: Now Girls, if you were well fitted, a Husband is the least you can expect; and now Margery I'le discover, you was my Brothers Daughter, put to me to conceal for a time, the reasons best known to my self.

To avoid prolixity, see Isabella, who ever had a Chast Flame for this wild Wenchlove, and Margery for you.

Then by joynt consent we'll end the day with mirth: to Pancras, and be marri'd straight; Sister, I am glad I have found you in no worse Com­pany.

Then vertuous Isabella, do you forget what Heats of Youth has made me guilty of, and I'le remember to be ever just to you.

And thou, Margery, deservest more than I can ever repay or express.

Let me have but all you can do, and I'le never complain.

No, 'tis I must complain, that thought to have had Margery instead of my wages: but for this trick, the next Maid that comes, down she goes, after once she has dropt a Duck to my Lady.

ACT I.

MAdam Muggulla, you most joyfully are met to pleasure me.

It may be so; I us'd to pleasure many: here lies my way; I do beseech you, Sir, keep your own Voyage.

Nay, be not so short, I must with you.

With me! I pray Sir; what, what Sir, do you see in me?

Do not mistake me, dear Beauty, nothing but honesty i'faith.

Hang honesty, Trump not me up with honesty: do you mark Sir, I have a charge, and a special charge Sir, and 'tis not honesty can win on me Sir.

Prethee conceive me rightly.

I conceive you.

But understand.

I will not understand, I cannot, nor I do not understand.

But prethee Muggulla, let my young Master Camillo see thy Mistress; but look upon her, and do you stand by.

How's this? shall I stand by? what do you think of me? Now by the vertue of the place I hold, you are a paltry Squire to tempt my trust thus; I am no Helen to be defloured of my Loyalty, by your fair language.

You mistake me still.

It may be my place will bear me out in't, and will mistake you still, make your best on't. Cal. A Pox upon you, let him but have a glance at her.

The Devil's in you, he shall never see her.

This is a Croan in grain; thou art so testy, prethee take breath, and know thy friends.

I will not: I have no friends, nor will I have any this way: but now I call to mind, why will he see her?

Because she loves him woundily, and he loves her totally.

She hates him damnably, most wickedly, take that upon my word, and swears her eyes are sick when they see him: how fearfully have I heard her rail against him, and cast, and rail again? call for hot waters, and then rail again?

I'le believe a Witch that has been nine years dead, before this.

I have heard her swear, that he is the beastliest man: what a grief must this be? Sir-reverence of the Company, a rank Whoremaster, ten Li­very Whores, she assur'd me on her Credit, with weeping eyes she spoke it, [Page] [...] [Page 21] [...] [Page 22] and seven Citizens Wives, besides all Volunteers that serve under him, and of all Countries.

The Devil never father'd such a Lye.

Besides, he is so careless of his body, which is a foul fault in him.

Come, leave fooling, 'tis a meer Fable drawn from thy Ancient Ver­tues; may be 'tis her Maid is angry with him, because he woo'd her with his Honour; and you mistake.

She hates him very well too, but her Mistress hates him heartily: Look upon him! on my Conscience she would see the Devil first, with eyes as big as Saucers; when I but nam'd him, she lept back thirty foot.

That's a lye by five and twenty.

If once she smell him, (for certainly he is rank, she says extreme rank, and the wind stands with him so) she's gone for ever.

For all this he shall see her, and give her such a heat, that the Hoe­goe of her Constitution shall perfume his Chamber for two long hours after.

Has he any new eyes when those are scratcht out, or a Nose to clap on warm? Is he proof against a Piss-pot? which if they bid me, I must throw upon him.

Well then, a Devil take you, he shall not see her.

His Dam coddle you for his Supper, if he do.

Then be so far his friend, good parch'd-handed Muggulla, as to give her this Letter, and leave thy pleasant lying, or leave it in her Pocket, there's no harm in it, do't, and I'le take thee up a Petticoat.

Take up my Petticoat, I scorn the motion, I scorn it with my heels, take up my Petticoat.

And so hot, Reverent Muggull.

Sir, you shall find me hotter, if you take up my Petticoat.

I'le give you a new Petticoat.

I scorn your gift, give your Masters old Boots, you give a Petti­coat: Alas, you'r too young Sir, you are too young to circumcize me that way; take up my Petticoat, I am a woman, a Gentlewoman, a woman of a­nother way; he that takes up my Petticoat, shall have enough to do I war­rant him; I would sain see the proudest of you all dare to do it.

Still mistakes: what a Pox do you look at the wrong end of the Prospective Glass.

Petticoat! you shew now what you are; but do your worst Sir.

A Wild-fire take thee, what ails thee?

I ask no favour of you, and so I leave you; and withall, I charge you in my own name; for I would have you know, that in this place I represent my Ladies Person.

The Devil could not have pickt out such a Representative.

Upon your life do not dare to follow me; for if you do, I know you have a standing that way: but if you do, look to't, look to't.

Go, and the Pox go with thee, if thou hast so much moysture as to receive it; for thou wilt have 'um, though a Horse bestow'um; I must devise a way, for he must see her, and very suddenly; and Madam Petticoat, it all the wit I have, and this can do, I'le make you sell your charge and your place. But here they come.

I know I wrong my modesty.

And wrong me in being so importunate, for that I neither can nor must grant.

A hard sentence from him, I have chosen my Judge: Alas Sir, did I approach you with unchast Desires, a sullied Reputation, or were deform'd, as it may be I am, though many affirm I am something more than handsome.

I dare swear it.

Or if I were no Gentlewoman, and breed courtesie, you might with some pretence of reason slight what you should sue for.

I'm sure I should; the Fleas are cursed troublesome: Hey day! there's a Legion of young Cupids in my Breeches.

Pray Sir, name my defects; when once convinced, I trouble you no further.

Then I will bluntly and truly tell you, you are too honest (a noted Libertine I profess my self) and talk too soon of Marriage: Can I part with my uncurbed liberty, and on my Neck wear such a heavy Yoak? No, let crooked Hams, declining Shoulders, furrow'd Cheeks, be aw'd by Cere­monies; if you love me in the way young people should, I'le fly to meet you, and we'll meet merrily.

'Tis strange such a man can use such language.

My tongue speaks my heart freely: Fair one, think on't, a close or private Mistress is Court Rhetorick; a Wife is a meer rustick device; and so good morrow.

How like you this, Caland ino?

A well-bred Gentleman, I am now thinking whether or no in the dark, or drunk, I formerly might not have met his Mother; he must have some drops of my blood in him, for at his years I was much of his Religion.

You may perceive I seek not to displant you, where you desire to grow; for further thanks, 'tis needless complement.

Only your patience one moment.

Sir, be brief then.

Pray, observe.

How he looks like a School-boy that has plaid the Truant, and went to be Breeched.

Madam.

A new affliction; after all this preparation, I am obliged to hear you,

Madam—while I at all parts (without boast) his Equal, in vain pursue you, you follow one that with winged feet flies from you, and at­tempts to undermine the Fortress of your Honour; nay, and more, your Virgin Honour.

My friend Camillo here's an Ass; what a Devil has he to do with Virgin Honour? when he should speak to the purpose, of the delight to meet in the old Dance between a pair of sheets, my Granam calls it the peopling of the World.

To vindicate my Honour, is needless; I don't fear the worst asper­sion malice can throw upon it.

Can you undergo the scorn of being refused, for which I deeply [Page 24] suffer? I must confess it makes for my ends; but his ills shan't make way for my good intents.

You take that Sir, which yet I never granted.

Calandrino, stand to me, I'le force more, Sir; was she, this excel­lent she, mad to be a slave to your lusts, and used as Physick after drunken Surfeits? mankind must rise against thee, must we not, Callandrino?

I, I, come, come, mankind must rise about it.

Murther!

Help!

Nay, nay, stand still, or you'r disabled for ever.

'Uds death.

After a whining Prologue, who would look for such a rough Cata­strophe? nay, come Sir, fear nothing; and do you hear Sir, yet I love you too; if you take the Wench now, I'le post it first, then Chronicle you were beaten to't.

A memorable piece of valour this between you; it may perhaps de­serve her Shooe-string for a Favour; wear it without my envy, but expect for this affront, when time serves, I shall call you to a strict account.

Nay, let him go to thy Mistress Boy; if I were in thy shirt, how I could nick it?

Madam, I fear my passion has offended; 'twas my excess of love to do you right.

You have sought my favours Nobly, and I am justly punished in wild Adorio's contempt and scorn: more I cannot say, but that I truly pity you, and wish you a better choice, which in my prayers, Camillo, I ever will remember.

'Tis a sweet Rogue, what Thunder-struck!

I am not so happy: O that I were but Master of my self, you should soon find me nothing.

What would you do?

With one stab give a fatal period to my woes and life together.

For a Woman, better the Kind were lost, and Generation maintain­ed a new way.

Yet all this is nothing to Calista.

Down into the Country amongst your Tenants, there you shall com­mand twenty Calista's, for every night a fresh and lusty one, Nut-brown wholesome Girles, I have bred 'um to it; should their Fathers murmure, straight his Lease is void.

Hang thee, and thy folly, come away.

Censur'd, Madam! what Lord or Lady lives worthy to sit a com­petent Judge on you?

Yet black detraction will find faults, when there are none.

Her foul mouth is stopt; you being the Object, rest secure of this, all the Braveries of the City run mad for you: Come, come, 'tis nothing for you, being a simple Maid, that never had a hand in the Honey-pot of Plea­sure, to sorbear it: but such as have lickt there, and lickt there often, and felt the sweetness, will.

How her mouth runs o're with the rank imagination?

If such can, as I nam'd before, the Kickshaw being offered, refuse to take it, they may be Sainted, though for my part I don't think it possible to be deni'd.

Not stir abroad, the use and pleasure of my eyes denied me?

Insufferable!

Nor write, nor yet receive an amorous Letter?

Not to be endured.

Nor look upon a man?

Flat tyranny, insupportoble tyranuy to a Lady of young blood.

She is my Mother that commands it, how shall I decline it?

Run away, take any course.

But without means, how shall we live?

What a question's that? as if a Bucksome Lady could want main­tenance in any place in the world where there are men, wine, meat or money stirring.

Rather than in a thought or dream, I'le consent to ought that may take from my Honour, I'le endure more than my Mother can impose up­on me.

I grant your Honour is a glorious dressing, but without conversa­tion of men a kind of nothing; she may as well command you when you are a hungry not to eat, or drink, or sleep; and yet all these are easie, com­par'd to the not seeing of a man: I will not urge Camillo's love, but make tryal of Adorio.

And give my Honour to his lust.

There's no such thing intended, Madam; yet now I think on't, write to'um both, catch one fast, and then throw the other in Mirtilla's mouth.

'Tis a business to be considered on.

When the satisfaction of your love's in question, to talk of consi­deration is of no moment; if your Mother would allow you a Dancer in the morning to well-breath you, a Songster in the afternoon to open your Pipes, a Servant to air you in the evening, you might bear it; but not to see, or talk, or touch a man, O abominable!

Do not my blushes speak how willingly I would assent?

Do something, Madam, to deserve'um, and blush after.

I, I, do something as Mirtilla.

ACT II.

SIr, Sir, are you ready?

To do what? I am sure 'tis not yet Dinner time.

True; but I asher such a dainty bit for Breakfast, as yet I never cook'd; 'tis not Potargo, sri'd Frogs, Potato's marrow'd, Cavier, Carps Tongues, the Pith of an English Chine of Beef, nor the Italian oyled Mush­room, and yet a drawer on too; and if you show not an appetite, and a strong one, I'le not say to eat, but devour it, without Grace too, for it will [Page 26] not stay a Preface: I am shamed, and all my provocatives will be jeer'd at.

Art thou in thy wits? what new-found Rarity hast thou discover'd?

No such matter Sir, it grows in our own Country Sir.

Leave prating, and serve it up Sirrah, bring in your dainty.

'Twill bring in it self, it has life and spirit in't, and for proof: Be­hold now, fall to boldly, my life on't it comes to be tasted.

Ha! Calista's Maid; you'r welcom fair one, aims your designs at me?

I am trusted with a business of consequence, which I would to your private ear deliver.

I told you so, give her Audience on your Couch, 'tis a fit State for such an Ambassadress; dispatch first for your Honour, you know what fol­lows.

Come Sir, will you please to vanish, or I'le—

O Sir! pray don't; O Sir! pray don't forget how you us'd your Taylors Daughter when she brought you home a Stomacher to keep your Breast warm.

Now, pretty one, your pleasure, you shall find me ready to serve you; if you'l put me to my Oath, I'le take it upon this Book.

O Sir, the favour is too great, and far above my poor ambition; I must kiss your hand in sign of humble thankfulness.

So modest.

It well becomes us Maids Sir, spare those blessings for my Noble Mistress, this speaks her chast desires with this Ring.

Oh the powerful Charms by that fair hand set down, Heaven be pleased to qualifie this excess of happiness, or I shall expire with a Surfeit of felicity! with what art the cunning Lapidary has here exprest the Rape of Proserpine; I apprehend her purpose, and oblige it, yet not as a helping friend, but a Husband; I will meet her Vertues flame with a lawful heat, and warm our Hymenical Sheets with such delights as leave no Sting be­hind'um.

You speak well, and I believe you.

Would you ought else?

I would carry some Love-sign to her, and now I think on't, the kind salute you offer'd me at your entrance, hold it not impudence that I desire it, I'le faithfully deliver it.

A kiss; you must excuse me, I was then my own, now wholly hers; but there's Gold to bind thee still my Advocate, I'le not fail the ap­pointed time.

Not a kiss; I was coy when it was offered; and now justly, when I begged one, am deni'd.

You are mistaken, I cannot be the man you are sent to.

Not you the man, you are the man of men, and such another in my Ladies eye never to be discover'd.

I am a meer stranger to thee,—or will at least seem so.

Still the more probable, since Ladies as you know affect strange dainties: this is not an Age in which Saints live, but women, knowing wo­men.

As most are at a coupling age.

Why Sir do you Gallants travel, but at their returns to discourse the difference in forreign Females; as the lusty Girl of France, the sober Ger­man, the plump Dutch Fr [...], the stately Dame of Spain, the Roman and spritely Tuscan, the merry Venetian Curtizan, the English fair Companion, that learns something from every Nation, and will fly at all.

But may I ask without offence your gravity, what Title your Lady bears in this City?

If you were true Town-bred, you would do the business first, and ask that after: Sir, she's no Half-crown Trader, nor no Beldam so frozen up, a Feaver can't thaw her.

Leave this impertinence, and come to the matter.

Impertinence! what my Granams Cat left in the Mault in Imper­tinence teeth; if it be impertinent to say her Name's Calista, God buy to you, and your impertinence too.

Oh I have heard of her, for Chastity and Beauty the wonder of the age!

Pray not too much of that Sir, fair and free, I'le subscribe too, and you'l find her so.

This can't be Calista, your covering your foul ends with a fair name, gives me just reason to suspect you have a plot upon my life.

A Plot! very fine; nay 'tis a dangerous one, beware on't: I plot to bring you in a minutes space to those a man of Snow would ride a thousand miles for; you shall be received by one whose touch would make old Ne­stor young: a terrible plot, a kiss then ravish'd from you by such lips as flow with Nectar, a juicy palm to guide you safe to a private room; but I almost forget, to make the plot more horrid, the retiring Bout, the silver bathing Tub, the Cambrick Rubbers, the imbroidered Quilt, a Bed of Jessemine and Damask Roses, a meer Powder-plot to blow you up: and last of all, a Bed­fellow, to whose rare entertainment all these are but fools.

No more, her breath would warm an Eunuch.

I knew I should heat him.

I am flesh and blood, your motion I approve, I'le come.

My plot's on your life, a base and dangerous woman, farewel Sir.

I will along too, come pardon my suspition; hear, hear, you shall.

I am good-natur'd, you may do what you will with me, at twelve I'le be your Convoy.

I desire not better.

How do you like my Gown?

'Tis rich, and Court-like.

My Mother little dreams of my intended flight, and that these are my Nuptial Ornaments.

I hope so.

How dully thou answered? dost thou envy Adori,'s noble change?

No Madam, I am a little daunted; how to bear your absence, that very thought confounds me; to be devorc'd from all my comfort, can this be born with patience?

The necessity of my fate commands it; but I vow by my Adorio's love, I pity thee.

Pity me Madam! a cold charity, you must do more, and help me.

Ha! what said you, I must; is this fit language for a servant?

One that would continue your poor servant: Can Mirtilla fit mourning alone, imagining those pleasures which you this blessed night en­joy in the imbraces of your Lord, and mine too, in being yours? shall a stranger sow you up in a sheet to guard that Maidenhead you must pretend to keep, and 'twill become you? shall another do this, and I pine with envy? Pardon me, either let me go with you, or by my life I will discover all.

Thou canst not be so treacherous and cruel.

Pray don't tempt me, for 'tis resolved.

Prethee Mirtilla be not so violent, I am so taken with thy affection. to me, I will send for thee.

When?

This very night, by Adorio I will.

Forgive my boldness past, 'twas iny zeal to serve you.

I thank thee for't.

You'l keep your word.

Still doubtful.

'Tis eleven by my Watch, the hour appointed, I hear none stirring, some curs'd business keeps her Mother up; I'le walk a little circle, this short delay asflicts me, and I presume to her it is no pleasure.

What's now to be done? would I were a Bed, I am so sleepy: by this hand I'le break the house for you tomorrow, and she shall be yours by fair or foul means.

This is the time, I take it, I was ordered by Mirtilla to come; she may perhaps, to take the air, open the Casement.

Would you were in her Cellar, so I were a Bed.

And looking out, will be a new Star to be gazed on by me with a­doration.

Is not here fine fooling? Pox of gazing, and sighing, and peeping, and prying; if you must go to't, put her to the squeak at first sight, and there's an end.

Mirtilla.

'Tis her voice.

You heard some footing.

Most certainly.

Speak low, my love Adorio.

The darkness befriends me now, most honour'd Madam: Alorio, your servant.

If you are so, I do commend your silence, and this kiss assures you I am wholly yours.

Now miss, and may you be gelt.

Madam, think on Mirtilla.

I am the fortunatest man in these night works.

This slowness amazeth me; but here comes some-body.

Whether shall I fly for succour?

These arms shall be a Castle of defence; how her heart beats; take comfort, dear Calista, Adorio loves you, loves you in a Noble ways silence becomes you till we are in safety.

O blest errour!

They have cast me, and say I must wait; but I have found some of their Cordials may be a provocative that was prepared to inable me to per­form the Marriage night-duties, up it goes, be it what it will. I cannot dread any danger where she is: 'tis pleasant, some restorative to animate their spirits; this nights ramble, with other incumbrances of business, has almost tired me; I feel sleep apprehending me for my neglect of nature, it is too powerful, I must obey.

'Uds death, I can't find the sleepy portion that's prepar'd for my Ladies Mother: What Dormouse asleep a ready? much good may women ex­pect from you! what a Devil do you mean to do? my old Lady's coming this way; here's a lump of Sluggard: you lie with a Lady, you lie with a drun­ken Sow, so you will be taken napping; thy Nose shall pay for this.

What's the matter you stay so long? is he fallen asleep? how Ca­millo, who I took for Adorio! wake him, and bid him be gone.

I must carry him on my back then, for any way else he is not fit to go: is he not dead? cold by this hand.

O, O! call in his man, let him remove him; he has got some hurt in his night rambles, and comes here to die, to have the shame fall upon me.

Stark dead! are you sure? you have held him at hard service; I'le be hanged if Muggulla has not thrown him on his back, for she's an old Swinger at these sports.

Leave your idle discourse, and convey him away.

Out of the house you can't carry him, your Mother must see it done.

Search him Calandrino, if he be not wounded any where.

O here's large wound! how it is swelled! this must, this must be cunningly drawn out, should it break, 'twould strangle him: O what a deal of foul matter's here! this has been a long time of gathering: here's a gash too in the Rimb of his Belly, it may have matter in't; he was a cholerick man I see; what comes from him is as yellow as Gold: how, troubled with the Stone? I'le cut you for this.

It must be so, he has drank the sleepy portion which was designed. [Page 30] for your Mother, so that we'll lay him in the great Chest in the next Room, may be when he awakes we may have a more fit opportunity to let him out.

I had rather bury him quick than part with my purchase; let his Ghost walk, I care not: who's that? where's the Chest? I am afraid her calling should wake him.

A shrill voice, it comes with the wind.

Then I'le take this way.

Why, Sir?

Because I'le trust my heels before all the winds in the Sky; we are far wiser than our Gransi [...]s were; and thus I'le prove it, they say, haste to the beginning of a feast, there I am with'um; but to the end of a fray, that's Apocryphal, 'tis Canonical, not to come there at all: after a Storm, there are still some drops behind.

Pure fear has made the fool a Philosopher; come, help away with him.

He's wondrous heavy, but the Porter's paid, there's the comfort.

Away, my Mother will come out.

ACT III.

WAs ever man thus crost?

So blest I hop't to have been; this is the finest wild Chace.

What's that you mutter?

A short prayer, that you may find my Lady, your wished-for love, though I am lost for ever.

Calandrino, light a Candle, 'tis horrible dark.

O me! what's that? from whence could that come?

I don't know, may be the old Lady has discovered our coming.

Draw the Curtains, I say, you Rascal; what a Devil do you mean to do? Adorio will get there before I shall come.

If it be a Spirit, it made use of my name; 'tis somewhere in the room.

I am afraid, yet dare not stir, for fear you should be found here.

Sirrah, I say Calista made the appointment, and would you have me fail her, Rogue, Dog, Devil?

It must be some Imp, it has the Devil so frequently in's mouth.

I tremble to think on't.

'Zounds, I'le stay for this damn'd Dog no longer.

My courage fails me, doubting 'tis not mortal.

Oh the Devil! the Devil!

What can this mean? that seem'd to be Adorio going out; how came I to have this wooden Tenement? this room they left me in; now [Page 31] dare not I call Muggulla, because I am ignorant how matters go in the house.

What noise was that I heard?

Madam, I know not, nor what caused it; but I am in as much doubt as they could be in fear, how by what means I was laid in this Chest; Providence I must ever bless that it proves so well, since you allow on't.

What's this? 'twas necessity made me so careful of your proceed­ings; now you'r at liberty, I desire your absence.

Madam, 'tis strange, but for once I'le withdraw, and render you my hearty thanks for the care you have used to preserve me safe, and your own Honour.

My lov'd Adorio, though disasterous chance has made me lament thy absence, it pays me ample satisfaction that I am now possest of thee.

Away: have you plaid your game with him, and now come to me to retrieve your appetite? I must reassume my ancient Faith, all Woman-kind is false.

False man, but more treacherous woman, 'tis apparent you joyntly have conspired against my weakness, for which expect my just anger; reply not.

Good speed on all sides, 'tis main strong Wine: O the yauns that Muggulla will make! look to your Stern, dear Mistress, and steer right: Stay, let me see, I'le try her by thy Nose first, for if she be a right Sow, sure she'll find it: yonder she comes; O how she holds up her Nose like a Jennet in the wind of a grass Mare!

'Tis Wine, I'm sure 'tis Wine, excellent strong Wine, very good Wine; this way too.

How true she hunts, I'le make the Train a little stronger.

Stronger and stronger still, still blessed Wine.

Now she hunts hot.

This way it went sure.

Now she's at a cold sent: O well hunted! that's she! that's she!

O if I could but see it! O what a precious sent it has! but handle it, and then but taste it.

Now I'le come in view.

Still 'tis stronger: Calandrino, what hast thou got there? answer to the point man.

'Tis Wine, Madam Muggulla, sweet Sweet-wine.

Is this a drink for Slaves to tipple on? dear sweet Sweet-wine come hither; give me a Bottle thou most debauched Drudge.

With no small pains I purchased this on purpose for you, to shew how willing I am to give you all my service.

I will give thee more: there, kiss my hand on't.

I thank you cleanlily for your dirty favour; how rank it smells?

By your leave sweet Bottle, and sweet Sweet-wine, I now come to thee, hold your Cap under.

She sucks off her sweet Sweet-wine, sweet, sweet, sweetly: how do you like it?

Hold up your Cap again Sir, and now come kiss me: I'le be your friend at a word Sir; come, drink to me.

I must not be too bold with this liquor.

Here's to thee then; 'tis for thy good, 'tis confest; nay, 'tis naught for thee, and may chance to make you break out, and spoil thy complexion: 'tis excellent for me, I have a cold Stomach, and the Wine▪

Blows out at both ends.

Kiss me again, thou shalt kiss Calista too: again cherish thy lips, I'le show thee all.

Bless my eyes!

Enter all the secrets in my Country Commands, and thou shalt be my Heir, and I'le leave thee Heaven knows what.

I believe so; but I shall never know.

Then you shall have my Daughters two sweet Wenches, but you must commit with me first, and show yourself a Gentleman.

Excellent Mistress Muggulla, I thank you heartily.

And prethee, Calandrino, take heed of being overtaken with too much drink, 'tis a lamentable fin: O 'tis a damnable thing to be drunk, Heaven can't endure it! And hark you, one thing I would have you do, knock my Husband on the Head, for he's an errant Puppy, and cannot per­form; why, where the Devil is this foolish Bottle?

O how her Husband would cry, did he know how drunk she will be with this Wine!

Who's that talks of Wine there?

I think 'tis your Husband at the door.

Bring him before me, I'le beat him damnably; nay, break the Bot­tle about his Pate, then tye it to his Tail, and all the Dogs in the Town shall follow him: Come, sit down, and let us propound a modest question, to see who is drunkest, you or I.

The very sent has disabled me; what's the question?

Whether Whitehall or Cheapside be nearest Whetstones Park? or what's the natural reason, why a woman should long to make her Husband a Cuckold? Bring the Curate, that learn'd Philosopher, that found out a Pudden had two ends, let him with his Jacob's Staff discover what is the third part of three farthings, three half-pence being the half, and I am sa­tisfied.

You blow me down with your Learning.

Too much for that Bull-head, my Husband: Hang him, he's but the shadow of a man of action, a debauch'd Puppy, let him sleep, and thou shalt sleep with me.

You are a very loving worthy woman, I had as live she had said I should have lain in the Hog-sty.

Not a word of Wine Callandrino, or any thing like Wine, or any thing concerning Wine, or by, or from, or with Wine: Come, lead me like a Countess.

Then it seems you ever have affected me.

Should my Lady stand by and hear't, and in her sudden fury kill me for't, I durst not Sir deny it; nor is it me alone, but all our Sex, I think, stand bound to be enamoured of you.

O my Fate! I am justly punished for my defended wantonness: I that scorn'd the Mistress when she sought me, now I would upon my knees receive her, am become a Prey unto her Bond-woman: thou art one of those aim to be the wrong way Ladifi'd: Was there no forward Page or Foot­boy in the Town to do the feat, but I must be chosen for the Executioner? how durst you hope it?

Kings sometimes leave Calveare, Salmon, and eat Sprats; in mode­sty I dare speak no more.

How cam'st thou to my hands?

My Lady being slipt aside in the dark, fearing her Mother should find out the appointment, and, as I thought, quitted the house, thanks to the darkness of the night, running after her, I run into your arms; and I had wrong'd my breeding near the Court, had I refused it.

You expect to reap the Harvest of your Flattery but your hopes will be blasted: I assure you I am tired, I must sleep; you could lie down too.

Willingly, so you please to use me.

Use thee?

As your Pillow Sir, I dare presume no farther.

Well, sit down.

I am ready Sir.

So nimble.

Love is active, nor would be a slow thing, rest securely; Sir, on my Maidenhead, I'le not ravish you.

For one so fair, I'le trust you.

Let all the joys of rest dwell on his Eye-lids; let no dream di­sturb your soft and gentle slumbers: I cannot sing, but I'le talk you asleep she snores already: I am all fire, I can no longer forbear, I'le touch his lips, I am intranced; our Fancy, some say, in sleep works stronger, I will prove how far mine will work.

My Bones ake with sleeping on the Bench, and I am exceeding cold after my heat, I must seek out a mere convenient Truckle-Bed: Ha! do I [Page 34] dream? No, no, I wake; as I live Adorio in a handsome Wenches Lap: O Whorson! you are better accommodated than I have been with my old drunken She-goat; I'le call my Master and his Mistress to this Pageant, this may work more upon her than all he can say: Master, Madam, come forth.

Well, what's your hasty business? what have you seen the Devil? or how?

No Boy, no; but here are some that you thought not of.

Adorio.

The Idol you used to worship.

Is this Mirtilla? I was but a Cloak to his intended Villany.

I knew 'twould take.

I'le not kill him sleeping, but if you please, I'le wake him, and then make him fall a Sacrifice to your just anger.

No, reserve your blood for a better use.

My fond love is turn'd to extreme hatred, his very sight is odious.

I have thought of a punishment for 'um, and then leave him to his Harlotry; if she prove not torture enough, hold me an Ass: I saw their Horses not far off, I'le cut their Girts and Bridles, and turn 'um out to the Road.

In his Hat he wears a Jewel, which this faithless Strumpet, as a Salary of her Lust, deceiv'd me of; he shall not keep it to my disgrace, nor will I stir till I have it.

I am not a profest nimmer, yet l'le make a shift: by your leave Sir, 'tis restitution; pray bear witness I do not steal it; here 'tis.

Take it not as a Mistress's favour, but a strong assurance I am your Wise.

O Heaven!

Pray in the Church: let's away: have you not been billing in the Hay, and so deserved this unexpected favour?

You'r pleasant Sir, come, will you walk.

As thou art a Gentleman kill me not basely, give me leave to draw my Sword.

What's the matter? do you dream?

A fearful one I dream't, methought Camillo's Sword was at my Throat, Calista frowning by, commanding him, as he desired my favour her favour to strike off my head.

Meer imagination; here's your Hat.

But where's my Jewel?

I lookt upon when you slept.

What's come on't then? Restore it; thou hast it; force me not to search thee

Search me.

You was before your Ladies entertainment a Night-walker, traded in picking of Pockets, when tame Cully's charmed with your prostitute fluttery, vouchsafed to imbrace you.

Love, give place to anger; wer't thou an Emperour, 'twas false; in thy teeth l'le tell it thee, steal what I present.

This will not do, though thou hast swallow'd it, I'le rip thee up, but I'le recover it.

Help, help, help, murther!

What, a new plot; let me have it, I say.

Hey day! at it afore folks! fie for shame; you are a hot Cock of the Game.

O me wretched Maid!

Hold her up, she'll fall again before her time else: Come, come, Mistress, the man's a well-timber'd man, he's whole Chested, and may be a little forward with his work, in time you will make him ride more mode­rate; then if he prove not of the right strain, Cuckold him first, and after make a Capon of him, never fear a Rape, fear him not.

Methought I heard some Womens shrieks; what, was it Calan­drino?

Nothing, only Master Adorio would force her to say one Lesson too often over, which is a fault I seldome heard a woman complain on, to refuse that sort of exercise.

My too fond Love Adorio, I have for ever banisht from my heart, and in lieu, the Holy man has given me to Camillo, in whose worthy love Calista must be safe.

Calista, you are all goodness.

Nay then Adorio be a man, I see the Diamond; Mirtilla forgive me, thy honest vertuous love I will repay; take me, and dispose of me as you think fit.

Chain him up; and when you feel the loving hour coming on you, let him recreate you, and then to his Cell again, in a short time you'l find him a sober Companion.

My heart can't let me give a denial; take me your faithful Hand­maid.

O who shall take me! for something has taken my Husband, the Fates be blest: but whether above or below he's gone, that matters not.

O! to Heaven he must go; you have been always a careful woman in that kind: Well, you and I will never marry; for now we may drink and sleep together without controul, since that Ram-headed Block is re­moved.

Lord, I am so troubled with the Teago, I believe it is because I drink but little Wine.

'Tis a raw humour blows up in your head, you don't take it often enough.

'T may be so: truly Sir, I don't drink above a Bottle in an hour.

How many's that a day? Mrs. Muggnlla, l'le be your Doctor, and administer effectually, I warrant you.

But are your Dancers ready?

All things ready: pray seat your selves, that I may have room to perform matters of admiration: let your eye be riveted to my heels, and miss not a hair, breadth of my footing: our Dance has a most melodious note, and I command you to have Ears like Hares this night for our Ma­sters Honour, and something of my Worship; your reward is to be drunk blind, like Moles, in the Wine-cellar, and though you never see after, 'tis the better: and do you hear wire-string Cats guts men, and strong-breath'd Hoe boys, for the credit of your Calling; twang it perfectly, as you would read your N [...]ck verse; marshal your selves in the Rear, the Van is ours: Come, Mrs. Muggulla, imagine it our wedding day.

Adorio, Let us forget all but honourable friendship, and let that last till Time shall be no more.

ACT I.

I Have given all the slip on purpose, to get home at unawares, to try what Jack Fido does with my Wife; I know no reason why I should trust him more than all the world, I do remember he told her I bought the Bucks Head, and therefore deserved to have the Horns: though I bid him try her, I did not bid him, bid her with one eye love, and with the other wink at a Friend: What pains we Husbands take to be miserable, and as many words do aptly hold concordance to make one sentence: Just so many causes seem to agree, when conceit makes us Cuckolds, and here comes apparent proof;

hand in hand: How their palms meet! That grasp begets a bastard.

By your white hand, I swear 'twas only so.

Poyson of Toads between you.

Fido you have well satisfied me.

Insatiate Whore, could not I satisfie you? I shall commit a mur­der if I stay: I'le go forge Thunder for you; what Plague can tran­scend a whorish Wife, and a persidious Friend, Traitor to Truth and Friendship, I could rip out that blushing Hypocrite, thy Heart.

What means this Fury?

Can you spell Stag, Sir? 'tis four letters with two Horns: get you from my fury, for fear of greater mischief.

Thou yellow Fool.

I would you would instruct me, Sir, but how to understand all this.

Did ever mortal see so foul a guilt stand underneath a look so in­nocent.

My Lord.

You Whore.

Were't not for looking to the Lady, I'de call you to strict ac­count.

Look to her, hang her: let me now send her to the Devil, with the scarlet Robe of Sin she's lapt in, that men should ever marry, and when we lay our Heads in womens laps, rise up with Horns.

With patience hear me, good Sir.

Yes, and go make Potgims.

'Tis late, and sleep will do good, Sir.

Why do you think I'm mad?

I hope not, Sir Isaac.

Then you lye, I am made Horn-mad; I shall be acted at both the Theaters: Oh he that can believe a sleep's secure

Oh Sir Isaac, how far am I in love with affliction, because it calls thee Father:

My negligence deserves just blame, and how my Policia will take it I cannot tell.

As Snuff does you, by the Nose.

Sir Credelus your Servant; I hope your fair Lady's well.

See, see she and her zealous School-master: I'le put you all up­on her anon.

Then I shall have my turn.

You are a wondrous happy man in one so vertuous.

Nay, you shall have no Sir Isaacs of me, I warrant ye.

Nor no Inocentia of your wife, I warrant ye.

Sweet Chick I come to take leave of thee, for I am going to see a Ship launch'd, you may walk and see Sir Isaac Jealousie's Lady.

Alass she's too merry for my company.

Too merry; I have seen her sad, but very seldom merry.

I mean Sir, that she can walk to the Change, tell Tales, run in the Garden.

Why then your Ladyship may hold your tongue, say nothing, and walk in the Orchard.

She can drink a glass of Wine not alayd with Water.

Then you may drink a cup of Water without Wine.

Nay if a Gentleman comes to her House she'll let him kiss her, though a stranger.

Why a modest Woman may be kist by accident, yet not give the least touch to her Reputation.

Well said, touch her home.

Nay, but they may not; she that will kiss, they say, will do worse I warrant you.

Why Madam I have seen you kist, may be against your will.

You may be sure 'twas against my will, though I have been kist indeed.

There's nothing in that can be against a Womans will, and I dare be sworn, if my Lady kist but one man, 'tis because we can't do with all.

Nay that I know to be true, therefore she shall only kiss you Fido at this time; nay, come kiss her, and we are gone.

Nay pray Sir Cornelious, 'tis against my customes.

I care not; let naturals love customes, my humour's my hu­mour: look ye she spits, kiss her close.

The nearer the bone, the sweeter the flesh, Lady.

How now sawce-box.

Why Madam, I had but my turn, are you angry at that?

Sirah, go and call a pair of Oars, Muchcraft, prethee stay thou at home with thy Lady, make her merry, get your Instrument rea­dy, this melancholly will spoil her; make her laugh but heartily before I come home, and I'le give you a Lease of forty Crowns per annum.

Can you tell whether she be ticklish or no Sir?

Oh infinitely ticklish.

I'le deserve your Lease before you come home again I war­rant you.

And thou shalt have't I faith boy.

Sir, there is a boat ready for you.

Oh that's well, farewel my dear Policia.

Adieu Madam, and when so e're I marry, Fortune turn no worse Card to me than you are.

And when so e're I marry, Venus send me a Card may save Fortune a labour, and turn up her self.

What made him leave you behind.

To lye with your Ladyship.

How!

How: Why in the Bed, or on the Bed, or without the Bed.

Why how now Muchcraft.

Why, the plain truth on't is, I must lye with you.

Why, Muchcraft?

And I know too, that you will lye with me.

Nay, but Muchcraft.

A Pox of Muchcraft; I am neither Much Craft, nor Little Craft, but a Barkshire Gentleman, that has heard of your Beauty; as­sum'd this Name and Fortune, saught this Service, and tell you truly what I guess you.

You will not Ravish me, Muchcraft?

No; but unravel you, in two lines Experience writ lately.

Indeed you do not well to belye me thus.

Come, I'le lye with thee Wench, and make all well again: your Husband swears no Woman can deceive him, and 'twere well done to cozen his confidence.

Truly, Muchcraft, some Women would do't.

Who can you chuse more convenient to practice with than me, whom he doats on? Where shall a man find a Friend but at home? so break one Proverbs Pate, and give the other a Plaister. Is't a Match, ha?

Well, for once it is; but and you do any more, indeed I'le tell my Husband.

But when shall this once be, now?

Now! no indeed, Muchcraft, it shall be soon, at Night my Knight comes home.

Then, how is't possible?

Possible; Women can make any of these things possible, Muchcraft: many casualties may cross us, but soon at night my Corne­lius I'm sure will be sleepy after his hard drinking; and when well drench'd in Wine, he sleeps in his Cloaths on the Bed so sound, Bells would not wake him were they rung in the Chamber.

Then he'll never dream of our Intrigue.

Now Mocko that makes him merry in his Chamber, shall, when the Candle's out, and he asleep, bring you into the Chamber.

But will he be secret?

Will he, good Soul! I am not to try him now.

But pray, how then?

When Mocko has brought you to the Bed, give me but softly a touch, I'le rise, and follow you into the next Chamber: But truly and you do not use me kindly, I shall cry out, and spoil all.

Use you kindly; was ever Lady used cruelly i'th' dark? do you but prepare Mocko and your Maid, let me alone with her Mistress; about Eleven I desire to be expected.

And till the Clock strike Twelve I lye alone.

Now you dare kiss.

Once with a Friend, or so; yet you may take two, Much­craft.

My Cast is Ames-Ace then.

Deuce-Ace had got the Game.

Well, if you'l set, I'le throw at all.

If you throw out, then down you fall.

Here, miserable Innocentia, let thy sorrows take breath; unto this House where Gentlemen lodge I was directed, but I here discover strange actions carried on in this House: Great Persons, but not good, here nightly Revel in Surfeits, and in Riots; and yet the next day the place appears a Sanctuary, rather than Sins foul Receptacle: these ways have to me still been strangers.

Yonder she walks mumbling to her self, my Lord Generous has cast an eye of liking on her, and you win her but for him, your House bears the Bell away; acost her quaintly.

I warrant thee Drudgeo, I can effect wonders of more weight than a Maiden-head: Have I ruin'd so many Cities, Citadels, to let in Court-Martialists, and shall this Country-Cottage hold out? I were more fit for a Cart than Coach then 'lfaith. How now Philice, how do you this morning?

Well, I thank so good a Landlady.

But hark you Philice, is the Door close Drudgeo?

As an Usurers Conscience: Madge was coming in, till she saw the Door shut upon her.

I'le set Madge about her business, and I come to her: Is here any work for her, with a mischief to her? We shall have Eves-drop­pers, shall we?

Honour guard me, how I tremble.

Come hither Mistress Philice: Fie, how you let your hair hang about your Ears too: How do you like my House, Phil.

Well, exceeding well.

Nay, I know a Woman may rise here in a Month, if she will her self: but truth's truth, I know you see something, as they say, and so forth. Did you see the Gallant was here last night till Twelve?

Which of them mean you? here was many.

Which; he in the white Feather, that skipp'd in the Gallery: Was it white, Drudgeo?

As a Ladies hond, by this five fingers.

White; no, no, 'twas a Tawny; now I remember.

As a Gypsie; by this Hand it lookt white by Candle-light though.

That fine Lord is call'd my Lord Generous, Phil. a great man, I'le assure you Phil.

His Excellent Carriage spoke him of Noble Birth.

And this Lord loves you Phillis.

Now Heaven defend me!

What, from a Lord? marry come up with a Murrian; from whence came you tro', ha?

Thus nice Madge was at first, if you remember.

I would have you know Huswife, I could have taken my Coach, and fetch'd him one of the best Pieces in London, and her Husband should have look'd after me, that his Neighbours might have noted, and cry'd, Farewel Naunt, commend me to my Unkle.

And yet from these perfum'd fortunes, Heaven defend me.

Perfum'd indeed.

Perfum'd; I am a Pander, a Rogue, that hangs together like a Beggars Rags by Geometry, if there was not three Ladies fwore yester­day that my Mistress perfum'd the Coach; so they were fain to unbrace the Side-parts to take in fresh Air.

He tells you true, I keep no company, I warrant you.

But have you so many several Women to answer so many men that come?

I'le answer that by Demonstration: Have you not observed the variation of a Cloud, sometimes 'twill be like a Lyon, sometimes like a Horse, sometimes a Castle, and yet still a Cloud.

True.

Why so can we make one Wench one day look like a Country Weneh, another day like a Citizens Wife, another day like a Lady, and yet still be a Crack.

Come Phil. let's in, and be merry.

ACT II.

SOftly sweet Mocko; are we in the Chamber yet?

Within a yard of my Lady, and ye can be quiet.

Art sure Sir Cornelius is asleep?

I know not, I'le go and ask him.

No, no, no, do not awake him, we are undone then, man.

Ha, ha, ha, now I see Cuckold-making is as ticklish a profes­sion as Cunney-catching: my Lord was so paid with Healths, he's fast enough.

But still I pursue wonder, why my Lady should prescribe this strange, nay wonderous desperate way to her desires.

Is that a question to ask now? would you would grope out the Bed, for I sleep in my talk I am sure of that.

We are lost for ever: did he not cough?

'Tis nothing but the last Cup comes up in stewd broth; if e­ver you make true Whoremaster burn me: sea-sick before you come in the salt-water; let me go in your stead.

No I'le venture, stood a Gulph between belching up a Tem­pest. O valiant Lust! how resolute thou goest to Acts unjust. Mocko good night: desire drowns fear in presuppos'd delight.

Turn of your left hand, 'twill lead you to the Devil, to my Lady, I should say presently.

Let me see: Four steps on the left hand. I have the Bed, and on this side she lies: Ud's foot there's a beard; but all's well yet; she lies on this side sure: I have her; 'tis her Hand, I know the touch, it melts me into passion: I have much ado to contain my wild desires: as the wind strains in caverns lock'd, so through my big swoln vains my blood cuts capers.

Who's there?

'Tis I.

Muchcraft.

Fortunate Muchcraft, that was wrapt in his Mothers Smock.

Give me your hand.

There 'tis: I melt already.

Sir, Husband; Sir Cornelius, awake.

I am lost for ever, Madam.

Sir Cornelius, Husband.

If I pull too hard, I shall pull her out of the bed too.

Why Knight, will you not awake.

What's the matter, what's the matter?

How I dwindle.

Pray hear me Sir; I cannot sleep till you have resolv'd me one thing.

What is that Sweetheart?

Of all men which do you love best?

That's a strange question to ask at midnight; why Much­craft.

And that same false Muchcraft in your absence most leudly tempted me to wrong your bed.

Was ever woodcock cateh'd thus.

Oh Rogue, Ple cut his throat sleeping.

Nay I have fitted him finely.

Now, now, now, now I am splted.

I seem'd Sweetheart to consent to him.

A pox of shammings: I were best confess and beg pardon.

And to make him sure for your revenge, I appointed about this hower, the door left open on purpose

Ah.

To meet me in the Garden.

All's well again.

Now Sweetheart, if you would but steal down, you might catch him, and snap the Fool very finely.

Oh Heavens what a wench have I of thee! I'le take my Ra­pier, and the night being dark, I'le speak like thee, as if thou had kept thy word: O Villain, I shall have you; do you lie still, and I'le bring thee his Heart for thy Monkeys breakfast.

And would you part unkindly and not kiss me?

I have no more manners than a Goose: Farewell

Hist Mocko.

Hear Boy.

Go meet him in the Garden—and hark.

Excellent: I'le play my Lady I warrant you. Well, I may hope for a Squiers Place, my Father was a Costermonger.

Well now I see, he who would know Hells Crafts in her may [Page 49] read it, in brief put him to School

Why here's a Wife Mocko!

Ay Sir, to discover upon the pinch to you.

Oh what Fortunes we loving Husbands meet with!

Ay Sir, Fortune's in the fashion of Hay Forks.

Mocko, thou shalt hardly see a harsh Fellow have such a Wife, such a fortunate Wedding.

He'll go to hanging as soon.

No, no; we loving souls have all the luck: There's Sir Isaac Jealous, what ado there is about his Wife; and now she's fled: and what has brought her to't, but his dogged usage of her.

Nay she never liv'd a good day with him.

Therefore the whole Town rings of the winding of his Horns. Had he such a wife as I: what a Villain did I entertain, to teach her Musick; he had done her no good since he came, that I see.

Hang him: he has made her a little perfect in Prick-Song, that's all; and it may be she had skill in that before you married her.

She could sing at first sight by this hand, Mocko: but hark, I hear somebody.

'Tis he sure: he has a dreaming Whoremasters pace. Pray let me practise my Ladies Part, and counterfeit for her.

Canst thou imitate to the life?

Can I? Oh wicked Muchcraft.

Admirable thou shalt do't.

Pray be you ready with your Rapier to spit him then; and Ple watch him a good turn, I warrant you.

Here they are: If Mocko now comes off with his Part neatly, the Comedy passes bravely. Who's there—Madam?

Muchcraft?

The same.

I think this place lies open to the Air, Muchcraft.

Delicate Mocko.

And truly there's a great Dew fallen to night, the Grass is very wet.

Sweet-tongu'd Rogue.

Come Muchcraft,

Oh Villain.

Here my Lady; it is enough my Master has now a Friend in these days that dares be honest.

How's this?

Nay for thy Master, he's a meer Coxcomb, Muchcraft.

Out Rogue.

'Tis but your bad desires that tell you so: can I contain a Heart, or can that Heart harbour a thought of injury against him, under whose Wing I safely stretch my Pinions: has he not nobly entertain'd me? Stand I not next neighbour, save your self, unto his Heart?

Ay, by this Hand dost thou.

And shall I requite him thus? No Lady, no.

Brave Muchcraft.

I am too wise to fall in love with Wo, much less with Wo­man: I but took advantage of my Masters absence for your Tryal, Ma­dam, for fear some Fellow, far hotter-rein'd then I, might have sought and sped; and I should be loth a Master so loving,

Shalt have five Leases, by these Fingers.

Well Muchcraft you had been better: if I do not tell your Ma­ster of this.

He has put him to't now.

Then I am lost for ever: You'll turn it all on me I know; but ere I'le live to wrong so good a man, or stand the mark unto your ma­lice, I will first fall on my Sword, and perish.

Hold, hold man.

Ha; who are you?

One that has more humanity in him than to see a proper Fel­low cast himself away, I warrant thee: 'tis I, 'tis I man; I have heard all.

And 'twas I have playd my Lady, to have snapt you.

Has she then been so good to tell you? Now I am worse affli­cted than before, that she should thus out-run me in this race of ho­nesty.

Nay, she has hobb'd thee bravely: She has a thousand of these tricks, I faith man; but howsoever, what I have found thee, I have found thee: Hark in thy ear: Thou shalt have five Leases, and my own Nagg, when thou hast a mind to ride.

Let me deserve it first.

Thou shalt have 'um, I know what I do, I warrant thee.

I joy in such a Lady.

Nay, there's a couple of you, for a Wife and a Friend: thou shalt be no more my Servant; I had thought to have made thee my Ste­ward, but thou art too honest for the place that's the truth on't.

His superfluity is my necessity; pray let me have it Sir.

I will talk with thee to morrow: Mocko, thou shalt have something too, but I'le to Bed: honest Muchcraft, the dearest must part, I see; I will so hug the sweet Rascal that thinks every hour ten, till I come yonder: Good-night Muchcraft; to Bed Mocko:

Go; and a Cartload of Horns go with thee. But shall I not be thought on for my nights Service?

Why look you: pray forget not you had something.

Well: and pray do you remember I had nothing.

Nothing; what's that?

Nothing before I had something I mean; so you are welcome from Utopia.

You are very nimble; Sir, good morrow.

Did ever Chronicle match this couple?

You make me wonder, that both should meet in one resolved goodness unknown to one another.

There lies the Jest on't: Sirrah Mocko, come hither.

I do but think, had she met him in the Garden, how she would have ratled him.

Ay, and ruffled him too Sir; the Camomile would have been better for it many a day after.

Such an honest-minded Servant, where shall one find?

Servant; my sworn brother, man: he's too honest for an Office, he'le ne're thrive in't.

A Wife; why she's a Saint, one that beares a good sound Soul about her.

Yes, when she wears her new Shoes.

Where is she Mocko?

Walking a turn or two in the Garden with Muchcraft, shall, I go call, Sir?

No, no, no; 'tis pitty to part 'um, they are so well match'd: What are they doing?

Why Sir, she was weeping to him; she heard this morning that her Confessor Father Joseph was dead.

Why now shan't we have her eat a bit these five days.

She'le Munch the more in a Corner, that's her Fasts.

Nay, do but judge Fido: Whereas most Dames go but once a month, some twice a quarter, and once a year to Confession, and that upon constraint too; she never misses twice a week.

'Tis a sign she keeps all well at home; they are even with the World, that so keep touch with Heaven.

See where she comes! Why how now Chick, weeping so fast, this is the fault of most of our Ladies; Painting, weeping for their sins, I should say, spoils their Faces.

Sweet Madam.

Look, look, loving Soul, he weeps for company.

And I shall laugh out-right by and by.

Oh that good man!

Why, Bird.

Be patient.

And wou'd he go to Heaven without me?

It may be he knew not your mind, Madam.

He knew my mind well enough.

Why then, it may be, he knew you cou'd not hold out for the Journey; pray do not set us all a crying.

Prethee, sweet Birds-n'ye, be content.

Yes, yes, be content; when you two leave my company, no one comes near me, so that were not for simple modest Muchcraft here.

As modest as a Gib-Cat at Mid-night.

That sometimes reads to me some vertuous Treatise; were it not for him, I might go look content: but 'tis no matter, no body cares for me.

Good Fido, help to comfort her.

Now is the Devil a writing an Encomium upon cunning Cuckoldmakers.

You have been harsh to her of late, I fear Sir.

By this hand I turn'd not from her all last-night; what shou'd a man do?

Come, this is but a sweet obedient Shower, to bedew the la­mented Grave of her old Father.

He thinks the Devil's dead too.

Prethee Muchcraft walk a turn in the Garden, to get her a Stomack to her Dinner; we'll be with you presently.

Nay, when you please; but why should I go from you?

Loving Soul, prethee take her away.

Pray let me kiss you first: come, Muchcraft, no body cares for us.

Well, she's a precious Creature.

'Uds death, he kist her at the door: Have I found you Lady? But mum.

Hark you Mocko, you must go and invite my Lady Meriday to Sup with us; tell her my Lady is never well but in her company.

What if you invited Sir Isaac Jealous, he's so melancholly since his Wife and he are parted.

Do as you are bid, let him alone: I'le have no Cuckold sup in my House to Night.

'Tis a very hot Evening, your Worship will sup in the Gar­den.

Why, yes marry, I will Sir; what of that?

Why, your Worship was ever as good as your word, keep the Cuckolds out of doors, and lay a Cloth for my Lord in the Arbour.

I have been about a Project these three months, Fido.

What is't, Sir?

To compose a Book of my Wives Vertues; a Pattern for all that marry.

That will do well, Sir: I have another too for you; but that we'll discourse as we go.

ACT III.

AM I fitted Fido, am I fitted?

To the life, Sir; and able to cheat suspition: and so like Father Anthony the Confessor, that I protest there's not more semblance in a pair of Eggs; an Apple cut in half, is not so like.

Well, you have counsell'd me to this, and I in this habit shall know the Core of her Heart.

By this time she may be comming; I'le step aside: You'le tell what's done.

What, reveal confession? But go your ways; as much as may lawfully be revealed we'le laugh at next meeting.

Well, much good may you find:

Yonder she comes, I can hardly forbear blushing; but I must have a care of discovery.

Hail Father.

Welcome my chast Daughter.

Death having taken my Father Joseph, to you I fall for absolu­tion.

Empty then my Daughter that Vessel of thy Flesh of all the Dregs.

Since last I confest my first Sin was, That my Taylor, not making my Now Gown to my mind, in an unchristian Passon I bid the Devil take him.

That was something harsh, yet the more pardonable, be­cause, may be, your Taylor lies in Hell night by night: Pray to your second.

Next, in a most savage rage, my Chambermaid putting too much Blew in her Starch, I most unmercifully broke her Head.

That was rashly done indeed Daughter: but are you sure the Maids Head was not broke before?

No, no: she came to me with ne're a crack about her.

These are trivial and light: Have you greater?

Yes Sir, one.

One: what should that be, I wonder!

One yet remains behind of weight and consequence.

She has trod some Chicken to death, I warrant you.

You did ill to drink so hard that Night.

Alas, you are mistaken; I have lai'n with another Man besides my Husband.

How!

Nay the same way I use to lye with him, but not altogether so often.

Death and the Devil: You're somewhat broad, but I have a Pennance for your Whoreship. Are you not with Child, Daughter?

Yes, yes: sure 'twas that Nights work.

How know you that?

Alass, by experience, Sir: The kind Fool my Husband wishes all well; but like a light piece of Gold, he's taken for more than he weighs.

With Child that charges too: there should follow a zealous Exhortation, but great Affairs brooks no stay: You are ingeniously sorrow.

Yes indeed, Sir.

And resolve to fall no more so?

No in truth, Sir.

Then I pronounce you here absolv'd. Now for your Pen­nance.

Anything.

As the Fact seems strange, so blame me not if your Pennance be as strange, though 'tis easie perform'd: 'Tis neither East, Prayer, nor Pilgrimage.

Let it be what 'twill, I vow the performance.

Soon at Night, when you are with your Husband at Supper, or any other way in Publick, you shall say aloud to him, You are not this Childs Father, but such a Man is; naming the right Father as you think was Partner in your Sin.

Good Sir.

This is it I expect to have done you know the danger of breaking it; 'tis nothing.

Nothing: Is this your Pennance so wondrous easie in perfor­mance?

'Tis irrevokable.

I am silent: Your new Pennance may meet a new Performance: Farewel, Sir.

And this is a trick to catch a canting Whore.

Come Phillis, be not so melancholly, the Sparks are in view.

Good morrow sweet Madam: Oh look how like the Sun be­hind a Cloud she beams to give intelligence how 'tis there.

You are reciprocally welcome, Sir.

What, have you brought this young wild Haggard to the Lure.

Faith Sir, she's a little irregular yet, but time may bring the wonder about.

Bless you, sweet Mistris.

'Uds foot, here's another Fleshmonger; I smell a Storm.

Sir, you are methodically welcome; you must pardon my va­riety [Page 56] of phrase, the Courtiers e'ne clog us with good words.

What's he?

Why Sir, 'tis a German Prince, but a speaks English.

Did not I charge you to keep her for me? how dare you set her out to fail?

Indeed Sir.

Indeed Sir; Pox of your indeeds Sir.

Oh my Sciatica!

You Sir, she says, you'r a German Prince: I can't help it.

Nay, good my Lord.

Good Sir, 'tis one of the Dukes Chamber.

Let him be of the Devils Chamber.

Sirrah, leave the House, or I'le thunder you out.

Sir, 'tis madness to stand him.

Kickt; pray that we meet no more again Sir; still keep Hea­ven about you.

VVhat e're thou art, a good man still go with thee.

VVill you bestow a Cast of your Profession?

VVe are vanish'd, Sir.

Oh! what shall become of me? in his eye murder and lust contends.

Nay, fly not sweet, I am not angry with you; do you know me?

Yes Sir, report has given you to be the Lord Generous, but I fear Fame's a lyar.

Why so, Madam?

Were you that Lord, you will not sure be a slave to your Bloods passion, to haunt such houses as these: I crave your pardon for my language, Truth has a Forehead free, and in the Tower of her In­tegrity fits an unvanquish'd Virgin.

If you rail upon the place; prethee, how came you hither?

By treacherous intelligence, honest men so Ignorant of the way, through Thieves perils go. This is a Cave of Scorpions and Dragons: Oh turn back!

Within there.

Sir, did you call? I hope you found her plyant: Your Coach waits you, Sir.

You are a rotten Hospital hung with greasie Sattin.

Ah! ah me!

Came this nice piece from France, with a Pox to her?

If she has not warm'd his Stomach, I'le be stead for't.

I have more to say, will you meet me at Sir Cornelius Credu­lous house? my intents are virtuous, there I'le discover.

I know that voice, I dare not think of ill, and I will meet at Sir Cornelius's house: No, Sir Isaac,

Let it be carried with a silent Reputation, for the credit of the Conclusion: I do not desire to be laught at, till my designs are ripe, and she has perform'd her Penance.

Is this your Chaste Religious Wife? you see now 'tis possible for a cunning Wife to make an Ass of her Husband.

An Ass; I will prove a contented Cuckold the wisest man in his company.

How? Prove you that, Sir.

Because he knows himself. Mocko, Are all things ready to entertain our Guess?

Yes Sir, and by the way I met the Knight Sir Jealousie, and he and a strange Lady do intend to invite themselves to Supper to you.

A shall be welcome, he will be fit company.

No, I fear he wrongs his Wife with idle suspition; I dare, and will avow it with my life, Muchcraft keeps before Sir.

VVhy don't you, Mocko, keep all well behind?

I, and then there will be devout Lechery, between Hawk [Page 58] and Buzzard: Mocko, draw out the Table with the Banquet.

Now fie upon this variety, 'tis profane; Chastity defend me srom such a Meeting.

Why Madam, what's the matter?

There was a Lady invited to such a Treat, and going home in the dark, though as Chaste as Night, yet the poor Fellow, her Hus­band, lost her in a throng, and the good Soul came home so crush'd in the morning.

Sir Isaac, welcom.

Fido, I am throughly sensible of my Ladies Loyalty, and thy true Honourable Friendship; I beg your pardon for what has past in my folly and rage, and now could wish my Lady was here, that I might reconcile my self to her, and obtain her forgiveness for my wronging the Innocent.

Have a care what you say, Sir Isaac: Pray sit; come, all sit.

I'le give you a fair occasion to produce the performance of her Penance.

Go forward, I'le catch occasion by the Forelock.

Here's a Health to you, it shall go round.

'Tis a general Health, and leads the rest into the Field.

Your Worship breaks Jests, as Serving-men do Glasses, by chance.

As I was drinking, I was thinking, trust me, how fortunate our kind Host was to meet with so Chast a Wife: Good Sir Cornelius, admit Heaven had her.

Oh, good Sir, do not wound me! Admit Heaven had her! 'Las Sir, what shou'd Heaven do with her?

Your love makes you passionate; but admit so, what Wife would you chuse?

Were I to chuse then, as I would I were; so this were in Barbados, I would wish Sir, a Wife so like my Lady, that once a Week she should go to Confession, and to perform the Penance she should run; nay, do naught but dream on't till it was done.

There's a delicate Momento, to put her in mind of her Pe­nance.

Now you talk of Dreams, Sweet-heart, I'le tell you a very unhappy one; I was a-dream 't last night of Muchcraft.

Of Muchcraft.

Nay, I have done with him.

Now you shall see the Devil out-done.

Pray on with your Dream, 'twill be good diversion.

Bless me, I am e'ne ashamed Chick; but 'tis no matter, a Dream's a Dream, and thus it was; methought, Husband, Muchcraft lay with me.

The best friend at home still, Muchcraft; Could the Devil, Sir, perform a Penance neater, and save his Credit better? On Wife, a Dream's a Dream I know.

Methought I prov'd with Child, Sweetheart.

Ay, Bird.

A pox of these Dreams.

Methought I was brought to bed; and one day sitting in the Gallery, who should come there to play at Foyls, but thee and Much­craft.

Muchcraft and I; do you mark that?

Ay; and wonder at her neat conveyance on't.

Playing, methought he hit you a blow on the Forehead; it swell'd so, thou could'st not see: at which the child cried.

Excellent Woman at a shift: but I'le have a trick for her.

And my thought at last you came thinking to quiet it, and it cried the more; whereat pointing to you, away naughty Man, you are not this Childs Father.

Meaning the Child Muchcraft got?

The same: And then I wak'd and kist you.

A pretty Dream, and a merry one.

Sir, I am told there's one Father Anthony, a holy man, stays without to speak with you.

With me, or my Lady.

Nay, with you, and a business of importance.

I'le go send him in, and he shall interpret my Ladies dream.

Husband, Sir Cornelius, stay a little.

I smell Wormwood and Vinegar.

She changes colour, I must out again.

He will not sure reveal Confession.

We many times make modest mirth a necessity to produce a Ladies dream.

Would I were in France; how they shoot at us?

I am a bold intruder to this house, and am come in Quest of one my Lord Generous.

He will be here instantly: 'tis she, I can hardly forbear disco­very; but I will bridle till Sir Cornelius returns.

Here's brave jugling; this Fryar has confest, that you Lady in your last Confession owned, that Muchcraft had lain with you; at which your Husband runs mad about the Garden.

Art mad? deny it, I am undone else.

Father Tony, what a Devil do you mean to do?

I confess it, I deny it; I do any thing, I do every thing, I do nothing.

The Fryars frantick, and so has wrong'd the Lady.

'Tis my misfortune still to suffer Sir.

Did you not see one slip out of a Cloak-bag, in the fashion of a Gammon of Bacon, and run under the Table among the Hogs?

He's mad, he's mad.

I, I, a Tyth-Pig was overlaid last night, and he spoke non­sense all the day after.

Shall I suffer this in my own house?

I'd scratch out his eyes first.

Faith Madam, the best way is to disrobe this irregular Fryar, and lay him open to all the world: Tear off his holy Weeds.

Now my frantick Brother, had you not better spar'd your breath?

And do you keep counsel no better? we'll ease you of your Orders.

Nay, let me have a hand in't; I'le tear with more zeal than a Puritan would a Surplice.

See what it is to accuse when you'r mad; I confess again to you, this man did lye with me.

And I brought him to her Chamber.

A ha house! this Sir Cornelius!

How Dreams do fall out true, Wife?

Oh, good Sir, I crave you pardon.

What say you, Muchcraft?

You brought him to her Chamber, Sir.

Oh Sir, I was meerly inveagl'd.

Lust is still like a midnight Meal, after our violent drinkings:

You shall to Flanders to a Monastery, and spend your days reclusive.

I will buss thee, and bid fair weather after thec. But for you, Sirrah.

Sir, I brought but flest to flesh, and you do as much when you bring your Meat to your Mouth.

You Sirrah, at a Carts Tail shall be whipe thorow the City: I am a Justice of Peace, and will see it done.

There's my dream out already; but since there's no remedy but the Whipping chear must close up my stomach: I will request a Note from your Hand to the Carman, to intreat him to drive apace, I shall never endure it else.

'Twas a sine Penance; but Oh the Art of Woman in the per­formance!

'Tis nothing, had she bin in her great Grannums place:

Now if my Innocentia was but here to clear my grief, then all our Joys were compleat.

Then here she stands spotless and innocent Heaven can testifie, and all good men cann't deny.

I'le add my Life and Sword to justifie she's a matchless piece of virtue, and so receive her.

I am easily perswaded to't, for I have made a tryal on't my self, and found her all Excellence: Oh pardon me.