The wise-woman Of HOGSDON.  
A comedy.  
As it hath been sundry times Acted with great Applause.  
Written by THO: HEYWOOD.  
Aut prodesse solent, aut Delectare—  
LONDON,  
Printed by M. P. for Henry Shephard, and are to be sold at his Shop in Chancerie-Lane, at the Sign of the Bible, between Sergeants-Inn and Fleetstreet. 1638.   

Drammatis Personae.  

Young Chartley, A wild-headed Gentleman.  
Boyster, a blunt fellow.  
Sencer, a conceited Gentleman.  
Haringfield, a Civil Gentleman.  
Luce, a goldsmith's Daughter.  
Luce's Father, a goldsmith.  
Joseph, the goldsmith: Apprentice.  
Old Master Chartley.  
Young Chartley's man.  
Old Charley's man.  
Sir Harry, A Knight, who is no piece of a Scholar.  
Gratiana, Sir Harry's Daughter.  
Taber, Sir Harry's man.  
Sir Boniface, an ignorant Pedant, or Schoolmaster.  
The Wise-woman of Hogsdon, who bears the name of the drama.  
A Countryman, Client to the Wise-woman.  
A Kitchenmaid, and two citizens' Wives, that come to the wise-woman for counsel.    

THE WISE-WOMAN OF HOGSDON.  


Actus primus, Scena prima.  Enter, as newly come from play, four young Gentlemen, Master Chartley, Master Sencer, M. Boyster; and Master Haringfield. Chartley. 
PRice of my life: now if the Devil have bones, these Dice are made of his. Was ever such a cast seen in this Age? Could any Gull in Europe (saving myself) fling such a cast?  Boyster. 
Eye.  Chartley. 
No.  Boyster. 
Yes.  Chart. 

But I say no: I have lost an hundred pound,  
And I will have my saying.   Boyst. 

I have lost another hundred, I'll have mine.  
ay, yes, I flung a worse: a worse by odds.   Chart. 

I cry you mercy sir, losers' may speak,  
I'll not except 'gainst you: but let me see  
Which of these two that pocket up our Cash  
Dares contradict me?   Sencer. 

Sir, not I:  
I say you have had bad casting.   Haring. 
So say I.  Chart. 

I say this hat's not made of wool  
Which of you all dares say the contrary?   Sencer. 
It may be 'tis a Beaver.  Haring. 
Very likely so: 'tis not Wool, but a plain Beaver.  Chart. 
'Tis Wooll ,but which of you dares say so? would fain pick a quarrel with them, to get some of my money again; but the slaves slaves they have got it are too wise to part with it.  
I say it is not black.  Haring. 
So say we too.  Boyst. 
'tis false: his Cap's of Wool, 'tis black, and Wool, and Wool and black.  Chart. 

I have nought to say to losers.  
Have I nothing left to set at a Cast? ay finger,  
Must you be set in gold, and not a jot of silver in my purse?  
A Bale of fresh Dice. Hoe, come at this Ring.   Sencer. 
Fie M. Chartley, 'tis time to give over.  Chart. 
That's the Winners phrase: Hold me play; Or he that hath uncrowned me, I'll take a speedy order with him.  Boyst. 

Fresh dice: this jewel I will venture more  
Take this and all. I'll play in spite of luck.   Haring. 

Since you will needs; trip for the Dice.  
I see it is hard to go a winner from this company.   Chart. 

The Dice are mine:  
This Diamond I value at twenty marks:  
I'll venture it at a throw.   Haring. 
'Tis for you.  Chart. 

Then at all. All's mine. Nay M. Boyster,  
I bar you: let us work upon the winners.  
Gramercy Sinks: Nay, though I owe you no quarrel, yet you must give me leave to draw.   Haring. 

I had rather you should draw your sword,  
Then draw my money thus.   Chart. 
Again sweet Dice: nay I bar swearing, Gentlemen, let's play patiently. Well, this At the Candlestick, so—  Chartley throws out, Boyst. 
Now Dice at all. To tho, quoth the Spaniard.  Senc. 
Here's precious luck.  Boyst 

Why Via. I think 'tis Quicksilver;  
It comes and goes so fast: there's life in this.   Haring. 
He passes all with Trays.  Chart. 

With Trayes, how say by that  
Oh he's old dog at Bowls and Trayes.   Senc. 

Lend me some money: be my half one Cast.  
I'll once outbrave this Gamester with a throw  
So now the Dice are mine, willt be my half?   Haring. 
I will.  Senc. 

Then once I'll play the Frank Gamester.  
Let me but see how much you both can make,  
And I'll cast at all, all, every Cross.   Chart. 
Now bless us all, what will you every Cross?  Senc. 
I will not leave myself one Cross to bless me.  Boyst. 
I set.  Chart. 
And so do I.  Senc. 
Why then at all. How!  He flings out. Chart. 
Nay, swear not, let's play patiently.  Senc. 
Damned Dice: did ever Gamester see the like?  Boyst. 
Never, never.  Senc. 
Was ever known such Casting?  Chart. 
Drunk nor sober, I ne'er saw a man cast worse.  Senc. 

I'll prove this Hat of mine an Helmet.  
Which of you here dares say the contrary?   Chart: 
As fair an Helmet as any man in Europe Needs to wear.  Senc. 
Chartley, thy Hat is black.  Chart. 
Upon better recollection, 'tis so indeed.  Senc. 
I say 'tis made of Wool.  Chart. 

True, my losing had took away my Senses,  
Both of Seeing and Feeling: but better luck  
Hath brought them to their right temper.  
But come, a pox of Dice; 'tis time to give over.   Senc. 

All times are times for winners to give over,  
But not for them that lose. I'll play till midnight,  
But I will change my luck.   Haring. 

Come, come, you shall not.  
Give over: tush give over: do I pray,  
And choose the Fortune of some other hour:  
Let's not like debauched fellows, play our Clothes,  
Belts, Rapiers, nor our needful ornaments:  
'Tis childish, not becoming Gentlemen.  
Play was at first ordained to pass the time;  
And sir, you but abuse the use of Play,  
To employ it other wise.   Sencer. 

You may persuade me—  
For once I'll leave a looser.   Chart. 
Then come put on your Helmet; let's leave this abominable Game, and find out some better Exercise. I cannot endure this chafing when men lose.  Senc. 
And there's not a more testy waspish Companion than thyself when thou art a looser, and yet thou must be vexing others with, Play patiently Gentlemen, and let's have no swearing.  Chart. 
A sign that I can give good counsel better than take it: but say, Where be the prettiest wenches, my hearts?  Senc. 
Well remembered, this puts me in mind of an appointment I had with a Gentlewoman of some respect.  Chart. 
I have you sir, I have you; but I think you will never have her: 'tis Gratiana the knight's daughter in Gracious Street. Have I touched you?  Senc. 
You have come somewhat near me, but touched me not. Master Haringfield, will you bear me company thither? Have you seen the Gentlewoman, M. Chartley?  Chart. 
Never sir.  Sencer. 
How have you heard of her?  Chart. 

That she hath, as other women have,  
That she goes for a Maid, as others do, &c.   Senc. 
I can assure you, she is a proper Gentlewoman.  Chart. 
Then if she have you, she is like to have a proper Gentleman.  Senc. 
You should tell them so that know it not. adieu Gentlemen.  Ex. Sencer, and Haring. Boyster. 
I am glad yet they go so lightly away.  Chart. 
What will you do M. Boyster?  Boyst. 
Somewhat.  Chart. 
You will not acquaint me with your business.  Boyst. 
No: I am in love, my head is full of Proclamations. There is a thing called a Virgin. Nature hath showed her Art in making her. Court her I cannot, but I'll do as I may.  Chart. 
Do you go, or stay sir?  Senc. 
Go.  Exit Sencer. Chart. 
You before, I'll follow. He thinks with his blunt humour, to enter as far as I with my sharp: No, my true Trojan, no: There is a fair sweet modest rogue, her name is Luce: with this Dandiprat, this pretty little ape's face, is yond blunt fellow in love; and no marvel, for she hath a Brow bewitching, Eyes ravishing, and a Tongue enchanting: And indeed she hath no fault in the world but one, and that is, she is honest: and were it not for that, she were the only sweet Rogue in Christendom. As I live, I love her extremely, and to enjoy her would give any thing: But the fool stands in her own light, and will do nothing without Marriage: but what should I do marrying? I can better endure Gives, than Bands of Matrimony. But in this Meditation, I am glad I have won my Money again. Nay, and she may be glad of it too: for the Girl is but poor, and in my pocket I have laid up a Stock for her, 'tis put to use already. And if I meet not with a Dice-house, or an Ordinary by the way, no question but I may increase it to a sum. Well, I'll unto the Exchange to buy her some pretty Novelty: That done, I'll visit my little Rascal, and solicit instantly.  Exeunt.  

Actus primus, Scena secunda.  Enter Luce in a sempster's shop, at work upon a laced Handkercher, and Joseph a Prentice. Luce. 
Where is my Father? joseph.  joseph. 

Mistress, above,  
And prays you to attend below a little.   Luce. 

I do not love to sit thus publicly:  
And yet upon the traffic of our Wares,  
Our provident Eyes and presence must still wait.  
Do you attend the shop, I'll ply my work.  
I see my father is not jealous of me,  
That trusts me to the open view of all.  
The reason is, he knows my thoughts are chaste,  
And my care such, as that it needs the awe  
Of no strict Overseer.   Enter M. Boyster. Boyst. 
Yonder's Luce. Save thee.  Luce. 

And you too, sir, y'are welcome; want you ought,  
I pray, in which our Trade may furnish you?   Boyst. 
Yes.  Luce. 
joseph, show the Gentleman.  Boyst. 
'tis here that I would buy.  Luce. 

What do you mean sir, speak, what is't you lack?  
I pray you wherefore do you fix your eyes  
So firmly in my face? what would you have?   Boyst. 
Thee.  Luce. 
Me?  Boyst. 
Yes, thee.  Luce. 

Your pleasure is to jest, and so I take it.  
Pray give me leave sir, to intend my work.   Boyst. 
You are fair.  Luce. 
You flout me.  Boyst. 

You are, go too, you are,  
I'd vex him that should say the contrary.   Luce. 
Well, you may say your pleasure.  Boyst. 
I love thee.  Luce. 
Oh Sir!  Boyst. 
As I live, I do.  Luce. 

Now as I am a true Maid,  
The most religious oath that I dare swear,  
I hold myself indebted to your love:  
And I am sorry there remains in me,  
No power how to requite it.   Boyst. 
Love me, prithee now, do if thou canst.  Luce. 
I cannot.  Boyst. 
Prithee, if thou canst.  Luce. 
Indeed I cannot.  Boyst. 
Yet ask thine heart, and see what may be done.  Luce. 

In troth I am sorry you should spend a sigh  
For my sake unrequited, or a tear;  
ay, or a word.   Boyst. 

'Tis no matter for my words, they are not many,  
And those not very wise one's neither.   Luce. 

Yet I beseech you spend no more in vain.  
I scorn you not; disdains as far from me,  
As are the two Poles distant: therefore Sir,  
Because I would not hold you in suspense,  
But tell you what at first to trust unto,  
Thus in a word, I must not fancy you.   Boyst. 
must not?  Luce. 
I cannot, nor I may not.  Boyst. 

I am gone:  
Thou hast given me, Luce, a Bone to gnaw upon.   Exit. Luce. 

Alas, that Beauty should be sought of more  
Than can enjoy it: might I have my wish,  
I would seem fair but only in his eye,  
That should possess me in a Nuptial tie.   Enter young Master Chattley, with gloves, Ring, Purse, etc.. Chartl. 

Morrow Luce; In exchange of this kiss, see  
what I have brought thee from the Exchange.   Luce. 
What mean you Sir, by this?  Chart. 
Guess that by the circumstance, here's a Ring, wear't for my sake; twenty Angels, pocket them you fool; come, come, I know thou art a Maid, say nay, and take them.  Luce. 

Sweet Master Chartley, do not fasten on me,  
More than with ease I can shake off: your Gift  
I reverence, yet refuse; and I pray tell me,  
Why do you make so many Errands hither?  
Send me so many Letters? fasten on me  
So many favours? what's your meaning in't?   Char. 
Hark in thine ear, I'll tell thee; nay hear me out, is't possible so soft a body should have so hard a soul? Nay now I know my penance, you will be angry, and school me for tempting your modesty: a fig for this modesty, it hinders many a good man from many a good turn, & that's all the good it doth. If thou but knewst, Luce, how I love thee, thou wouldst be far more tractable. Nay, I bar chiding when you speak, I'll stop thy lips if thou dost but offer an angry word, by this hand I'll do't, and with this hand too. Go to now, what say you?  Luce. 

Sir, if you love me, as you say you do,  
Show me the fruits thereof.   Chart. 
The stock I can, thou mayst see the fruits hereafter.  Luce. 

Can I believe you love me, when you seek  
The ship wrack of mine Honour?   Chart. 
Honour! there's another word to flap in a man's mouth: Honour! what shouldst thou and I stand upon our Honour, that were neither of us yet, Right Worshipful?  Luce. 

I am sorry Sir, I have lent so large an ear  
To such a bad discourse; and I protest  
After this hour, never to do the like.  
I must confess, of all the Gentlemen  
That ever courted me, you have possessed  
The best part in my thoughts: but this course language  
Exiles you quite from thence. Sir, had you come,  
In stead of changing this mine honest name  
Into a strumpet's, to have honoured me  
With the chaste Title of a Modest Wife;  
I had reserved an ear for all your suits:  
But since I see your rudeness finds no limit,  
I leave you to your lust.   Chart. 
You shall not, Luce.  Luce. 
Then keep your tongue within more moderate bounds.  Chart. 
I will, as I am virtuous, I will: I told you, the second word would be Marriage. It makes a man forfeit his Freedom, and makes him walk ever after with a Chain at his heels, or a jackanapes hanging at his elbow: Marriage is like Dedalus his labyrinth, and being once in, there's no finding the way out. Well, I love this little property most intolerably, and I must set her on the Last, though it cost me all the shoes in my shop. Well Luce, thou seest my stomach is come down; thou hast my heart already, there's my hand.  Luce. 
But in what way?  Chart. 
Nay, I know not the way yet, but I hope to find it hereafter, by your good direction.  Luce. 
I mean, in what manner? in what way?  Chart. 
In the way of marriage, in the way of honesty, in the way that was never gone yet: I hope thou art a Maid, Luce.  Luce. 

Yes Sir, and I accept it; in exchange  
Of this your hand, you shall receive my heart.   Chartley. 
A bargain, and there's earnest on thy lips.  Luce. 

I'll call my Father, Sir, to witness it:  
See, here he comes.   Enter her Father, a plain Citizen. Chart. 
Father, save you, you have happened of an untoward Son-in-Law; here I am, how do you like me?  Father. 

Sir, I was nearer than you were aware,  
And overheard both sum and circumstance.   Chart. 

Then I perceive you are an old eavesdropper:  
But what do you think of it, Father?   Father. 

I entertain the motion with all love,  
And I rejoice my Daughter is preferred,  
And raised to such a match; I heard the contract,  
And will confirm it gladly: but pray Sir,  
When shall the merry day be?   Chart. 
Marry, even tomorrow by that we can see; my, we'll lose no more time, I'll take order for that.  Luce. 
Stay but a month.  Chart 
A month I thou canst not hire me to't. Why Luce, if thou be'st hungry, canst thou stay a month from meat? Nay, if I see my diet before me, I love to fall too when I have a stomach. Here, buy thee a new Smock; let's have a new Bed too, and look it be strong: there's a box of Rings and Jewels, lay them up. Ha sirrah; methinks the very name of Wedlock hath brought me to a Nightcap already, and I am grown civil on the sudden. There's more money for Dishes, Platters, Ladles, Candlesticks, &c. as I shall find them set down in the Inventory.  Father. 
But whom shall we invite unto the Wedding?  Enter 2d. Luce, a young Country Gentlewoman, in the habit of a Page, and overheares their discourse. Chart. 
ay, thereby hangs a Tale, we will have no more at our marriage, but myself, to say, I take thee Luce; thou to say, I Luce take thee Robin: the Vicar to put us together, and you Father, to play the Clerk, and cry Amen.  Father. 
Your reason for that.  Chartl. 
I would not for a world it should be known to my Friends, or come to my Father's care. It may be ten thousand pounds out of my way for the present: therefore this is my conceit, Let us be married privately, and Luce shall live like a Maid still, and bear the Name. 'tis nothing Luce: it is a common thing in this age to go for a Maid, and be none. I'll frequent the house secretly: fear not Girl, though I revel abroad a days, I'll be with thee to bring a nights, my little Whiting mop.  Luce. 

But so I may incur a public scandal,  
By your so oft frequenting to my Chamber.   Chart. 
Scandal? what scandal? Why to stop the mouth of all scandal, after some few day's do I appear in my likeness, married man and honest housekeeper, and then what becomes of your scandal? Come, send for Mr. Vicar, and what we do, let's do suddenly.  2. Luce. 
Cold comfort for me.  Luce. 
If you purpose to be so privately married, I know one excellent at such an exploit: are you not acquainted with the Wise-woman of Hogsdon?  Chartley. 
O the Witch, the Beldame, the Hag of Hogsdon.  Luce. 
The same, but I hold her to be of no such condition. I will anon make a step thither, and punctually acquaint her with all our proceedings: she is never without a Sir john at her elbow, ready for such a stratagem.  Chart. 
Well, be't so then.  Exeunt. 2. Luce. 
Heigh hoe: have I disguised myself, and stolen out of the Country thus far, and can light of no better news to entertain me? Oh this wild-headed wicked Chartley, whom nothing will tame. To this Gallant was I poor Gentlewoman betrothed, and the Marriage day appointed: But he out of a fantastic and giddy humour, before the time prefixed, posts up to London. After him come I thus habited, and you see my welcome, to be an earwitness of his second Contracting. Modesty would not suffer me to discover myself, otherwise, I should have gone near to have marred the match. I heard them talk of Hogsdon, and a Wise-woman, where these Aims shall be brought to Action. I'll see if I can insinuate myself into her service: that's my next project: and now good luck of my side.  Exit.  
Explicit Actus primus.   


Actus secundus, Scena prima.  Enter the Wise-woman and her Clients, a Countryman with an Urinal, four Women like Citizens wives, Taber a Servingman, and a Chambermaid. Taber. 

Fie, fie, what a toil, and a moil it is,  
For a woman to be wiser than all her neighbours?  
I pray good people, press not too fast upon me;  
Though I have two ears, I can hear but one at once.  
You with the Urine.   Enter 2. Luce, and stands aside. Countryman. 
Here forsooth Mistress.  Wisew. 
And who distilled this water?  Countr. 
My wife's Limbeck, if it please you.  Wisew. 
And where doth the pain hold her most?  Countr 
Marry at her heart forsooth.  Wisew. 
ay, at hor heart, she hath a griping at her heart.  Countr. 
You have hit it right.  Wisewo. 
Nay, I can see so much in the Urine.  2. Luce. 
just so much as is told her.  Wisewo. 
She hath no pain in her head, hath she?  Countrym 
No indeed, I never heard her complain of her head.  Wisewo. 

I told you so, her pain lies all at her heart:  
Alas good heart! but how feels she her stomach?   Countrym. 
O queasy, and sick at stomach.  Wisewo. 
ay, I warrant you, I think I can see as far into a Millstone as another: you have heard of Mother Nottingham, who for her time, was prettily well skilled in casting of Waters: and after her, Mother Bomby; and then there is one Hatfield in Pepper-Alley, he doth pretty well for a thing that's lost. There's another in Coleharbour, that's skilled in the Planets. Mother Sturton in Goulden-lane, is for Forespeaking: Mother Phillips of the Bankside, for the weakness of the back: and then there's a very reverent Matron on Clarkenwell-Green, good at many things: Mistress Mary on the Bank- side, is for recting a Figure: and one (what do you call her) in Westminster, that practiseth the Book and the Key, and the Sieve and the Shears: and all do well, according to their talon. For myself, let the world speak: hark you my friend, you shall take—  (She whispers.) 2. Luce. 

'Tis strange the Ignorant should be thus fooled.  
What can this Witch, this Wizard, or old Trot,  
Do by Enchantment, or by Magic spell?  
Such as profess that Art should be deep Scholars.  
What reading can this simple Woman have?  
'tis palpable gross foolery.   Kitchin. 
Now friend, your business?  Taber. 

I have stolen out of my Master's house, forsooth,  
with the kitchenmaid, and I am come to know of you,  
whether it be my fortune to have her, or no.   Wisewo. 
And what's your suit, Lady?  Kitchin. 
Forsooth, I come to know whether I be a Maid or no.  Wisewo. 
Why, art thou in doubt of that?  Kitchin. 
It may be I have more reason than all the world knows.  Taber. 
Nay, if thou com'st to know whether thou be'st a Maid or no, I had best ask to know whether I be with child or no.  Wisew. 
Withdraw into the Parlour there, I'll but talk with this other Gentlewoman, and He resolve you presently.  Taber. 
Come Sisty, if she cannot resolve thee, I can, and in the Case of a Maidenhead do more than she, I warrant thee.  Exeunt. The Wom. 
Forsooth I am bold, as they say.  Wisew. 
You are welcome Gentlewoman.—  Wom. 
I would not have it known to my Neighbours, that I come to a Wise-woman for any thing, by my truly.  Wisewom. 
For should your Husband come and find you here.  Wom. 
My Husband woman, I am a Widow.  Wisewom. 
Where are my brains? 'tis true, you are a Widow; and you dwell, let me see, I can never remember that place.  Wom. 
In Kentstreet.  Wisewom. 
Kentstreet, Kentstreet! and I can tell you wherefore you come.  Wom. 
Why, and say true?  Wisewom. 
You are a Wag, you are a Wag: why, what do you think now I would say?  Wom. 
Perhaps, to know how many Husbands I should have.  Wisewom. 
And if I should say so, should I say amiss?  Wom. 
I think you are a Witch.  Wisewom. 
In, in, I'll but read a little of ptolemy, and Erra Pater; and when I have cast a Figure, I'll come to you presently.  Exit Wom. 
Now Wag, what wouldst thou have?  2. Luce. 
If this were a wise-woman, she could tell that without asking. Now methinks I should come to know whether I were a Boy or a Girl; forsooth I lack a service.  Wisewo. 
By my Fidelity, and I want a good trusty Lad.  2. Luce. 
Now could I sigh, and say, Alas, this is some Bawd trade-fallen, and out of her wicked experience, is come to be reputed wise. I'll serve her, be't but to pry into the mystery of her Science.  Wisewo. 
A proper stripling, and a wise, I warrant him; here's a penny for thee, I'll hire thee for a year by the Statute of Winchester: prove true and honest, and thou shalt want nothing that a good Boy—  2. Luce. 
Here Wise-woman you are out again, I shall want what a good Boy should have, whilst I live: well, here I shall live both unknown, and my Sex unsuspected. But whom have we here?  Enter Master Haringfield, and Chartley half drunk. Chart. 
Come Haringfield, now we have been drinking of Mother Redcap's Ale, let us now go make some sport with the Wise-woman.  Haring. 
we shall be thought very wise men, of all such as shall see us go in to the wise-woman's.  Chartley. 
See, here she is; how now Witch? How now Hag? How now Beldame? You are the wise-woman, are you? and have wit to keep your self warm enough, I warrant you.  Wisewo. 
Out thou knave.  2. Luce. 
And will these wild oats never be sowed?  Chart. 
You Enchantress, Sorceress, she-devil; you Madam Hecate, Lady Proserpine, you are too old, you Hag, now, for conjuring up Spirits yourself; but you keep pretty young Witches under your roof, that can do that.  Wisewo. 
ay, or my Family conjure up any Spirits! I defy thee, thou young harebrained—  Haring. 
Forbear him till he have his Senses about him, and I shall then hold thee for a Wise-woman indeed.: otherwise, I shall doubt thou hast thy name for nothing. Come friend, away, if thou lovest me.  Chart. 
Away you old dromedary, I'll come one of these nights, and make a racket amongst your she-caterwaulers.  Haring. 
I prithee let's be civil.  Chart. 
Out of my sight, thou she-mastiff.  Exeunt. 2. Luce. 
Patience, sweet Mistress.  Wisewo. 
Now bless me, he hath put me into such a fear, as makes all my bones to dance, and rattle in my skin: I'll be revenged on that swaggering companion.  2. Luce. 
Mistress, I wish you would, he's a mere Madcap, and all his delight is in misusing such reverent Matrons as yourself.  Wisewo. 
Well, what's thy name, Boy?  2. Luce. 
I am even little better than a Turn-broach, for my name is Jack.  Wisewo. 
Honest Jack, if thou couldst but devise how I might cry quittance with this cutting Dick, I will go near to adopt thee my Son and heir.  2. Luce. 

Mistress, there is a way, and this it is;  
Tomorrow morning doth this Gentleman  
Intend to marry with one Mistress Luce,  
A goldsmith's Daughter; do you know the Maid?   Wisewo. 

My Daughter, and a pretty smug faced Girl.  
I had a note but late from her, and she means  
To be with me in th'evening; for I have bespoke  
Sir Boniface to marry her in the morning.   2. Luce. 

Do but prevent this Gallant of his Wife,  
And then your wrongs shall be revenged at full.   Wisewo. 
I'll do't, as I am Matron; ay, and show him a new trick for his learning.  Enter Master Boyster. Boyst. 
Morrow.  Wisewo. 
Y'are welcome Sir.  Boyst. 
Art wise?  2. Luce. 
He should be wise, because he speaks few words.  Wisewo. 
I am as I am, and there's an end.  Boyst. 
Canst conjure?  Wisewo. 
Oh that's a foul word! but I can tell you your Fortune, as they say; I have some little skill in Palmistry, but never had to do with the devil.  Boyst. 
And had the devil never any thing to do with thee? thou look'st somewhat like his dam. Look on me canst tell what I ail?  Wisewo. 
Can you tell yourself? I should guess, you be mad, or not well in your wits.  Boyst. 

thouart wise, I am so; men being in love, are mad,  
And I being in love, am so.   Wisewo. 
Nay, if I see your complexion once, I think I can guess as near as another.  Boyst. 
One Mistress Luce I love, know'st thou her, Grannam?  Wisewo. 
As well as the Beggar knows his Dish. Why she is one of my Daughters.  Boyst. 
Make her my wife, I'll give thee forty pieces.  2. Luce. 
Take them Mistress, to be revenged on Chartley.  Wisew. 

A bargain, strike me luck, cease all your sorrow,  
Fair Luce shall be your Bride betimes tomorrow.   Boyst. 
thouart a good Grannam; and, but that thy teeth stand like hedge-stakes in thy head, I'd kiss thee.  Exit. Wisewo. 

Pray will you in; come hither lack, I have  
A new trick come into my head, wilt thou  
Assist me in't?   2. Luce. 

If it concern the crossing of the marriage with  
Mistress Luce, I'll do't whate'er it be.   Wisewo. 
Thou shalt be 'tired like a woman; can you make a courtesy, take small strides, simper, and seem modest? methinks thou hast a woman's voice already.  2. Luce. 
Doubt not of me, I'll act them naturally.  Wisewo. 
I have conceited, to have Luce married to this blunt Gentleman; she mistaking him for Chartley, and Chartley shall marry thee, being a Boy, and take thee for Luce. Wilt not be excellent?  2. Luce. 
Oh super, superexcellent!  Wisewo. 
Play but thy part, as I'll act mine, I'll fit him with a Wife, I warrant him.  2. Luce. 
And a Wife I'll warrant him.  Exeunt. Enter Old Sir Harry, and his man Taber. Sir Har. 
Ha, than thou sawest them whispering with my Daughter.  Tab. 
I saw them, if it shall please you, not whisper, but—  Sir Har. 
How then, thou knave?  Taber. 
Marry Sir Knight, I saw them in sad talk; but to say they were directly whispering, I am not able.  Sir Har. 
Why Taber, that sad talk was whispering.  Taber. 
Nay, they did not greatly whisper, for I heard what was said, and what was said, I have the wit to keep to myself.  Sir Har. 
What said the unthrift, Taber, tell me knave? Tell me, good knave, what did the unthrift say?  Taber. 
I am loath to be called in question about men and women's matters, but as soon as ever he saw your Daughter, I heard what was spoke.  Sir Har. 
Here sirrah, take thy quarter's wages aforehand, and tell me all their words, and what their greeting was at their first encounter; hold thine hand.  Taber. 
Thanks, Noble Sir, and now I'll tell you. Your daughter being walking to take the air of the fields, and I before her; whom should we meet just in the nick?  Sir Har. 
just in the nick, man?  Taber. 
In the highway I meant, Sir.  Sir Har. 
Ha, and what conference passed betwixt them, Taber?  Taber. 
As well as my Pipe can utter, you shall know Sir. This Gentleman meeting with my young Mistress full butt; imagine you were she, and I young Master Sencer; now there you come, and here I meet you; he comes in this manner, and put off his hat in this fashion.  Sir Har. 
ay, but what said he?  Taber. 
Be with you, fair Gentlewoman; and so goes quite away, and scarce so much as once looked back: and if this were language to offer to a young Lady, judge you.  Sir Har. 
But spoke he nothing else?  Taber. 
Nothing as I am true.  Sir Har. 
Why man, all this was nothing.  Taber. 
Yes Sir, it was as much as my quarter's wages aforehand.  Enter Master Sencer, Master Haringfield, and Gratiana. Grat. 

Here are two Gentlemen with great desire,  
Crave conference with my Father: here he is,  
Now Gallants, you may freely speak your minds.   Senc. 
Save you Sir, my name is Sencer; I am a Northamptonshire Gentleman, borne to a thousand pound Land by the year: I love your Daughter, and I am come to crave your goodwill.  Sir Har. 
Have you my Daughters, that you covet mine?  Senc. 
No Sir, but I hope in time I shall have.  Sir Har. 
So hope not I. Sir, Sir, my Daughter's young, and you a Gentleman unknown, Sencer? ha, Sencer? O Sir, your name I now remember well, 'tis ranked 'mongst thrifts, dicers, swaggerers, and drunkards: were not you brought before me, some month since, for beating of the Watch, by the same token, I sent you to the Counter?  Senc. 
I confess myself to have been in that action, but note the cause, Sir: you could not have pleasured me so much, in giving me a piece of gold, as at the same time to help me to that Counter.  Sir Har. 
Why Sir, what cause had you to beat the Watch, and raise a midnight tumult in the streets?  Senc. 
Nay, but hear me, sweet Sir Harry: Being somewhat late at Supper at the Mitre, the doors were shut at my Lodging, I knocked at three or four places more, all were a-bed, and fast: inns, Taverns, none would give me entertainment. Now, would you have had me despaired, and lain in the streets? No, I bethought me of a trick worth two of that, and presently devised, having at that time a charge of money about me, to be lodged, and safely too.  Sir Har. 
As how, I pray you?  Senc. 
Marry thus: I had knocked my heels against the ground a good while, knew not where to have a Bed for love nor money. Now what did I? but spying the Watch, went and hit the Constable a good souse on the Ear, who provided me of a lodging presently; and the next day, being brought before your Worship, I was then sent thither back again, where I lay three or four days without control.  Sir Har. 

O, y'are a Gallant! is that Gentleman  
A Suitor too?   Haring. 

I am a Suitor in my friend's behalf,  
No otherwise: I can assure you, Sir,  
He is a Gentleman descended well,  
Derived from a good house, well qualified,  
And well possessed; but that which most should move you,  
He loves your Daughter.   Grat 

But were I to choose,  
Which of these two should please my fancy best,  
I sooner should affect this Gentleman,  
For his mad carriage, and his fair discourse,  
Than my hot Suitor; Ruffians I detest:  
A smooth and square behaviour likes me best.   Senc. 
What say you to me, Lady.  Gratian. 
You had best ask my Father what I should say.  Senc. 
Are you angry, sweet Lady, that I asked your Father's consent?  Grat. 
No, if you can get his consent to marry him, shall it displease me?  Haring. 

Indeed you therein much forget yourself,  
To sound her Father ere you tasted her.  
You should have first sought means for her goodwill,  
And after compassed his.   Sir Har. 

He can prevail with neither: Gentlemen,  
If you will come to revel, you are welcome;  
If to my Table, welcome; if to use me  
In any grateful Office, welcome too:  
But if you come as Suitors, there's the door.   Senc. 
The door!  Sir Har. 
I say the door.  Senc. 
Why Sir? tell not me of your door, nor going out of it, your company is fair and good, and so is your Daughters; I'll stay here this twelvemonth, ere I'll offer to trouble your door.  Sir Har. 
Sir, but you shall not. Taber! where's that knave?  Senc. 
Why Sir, I hope you do not mean to make us dance, that you call for a Taber.  Haring. 

Nay Master Sencer, do not urge the Knight,  
He is incensed now, choose a fitter hour,  
And tempt his love in that: old men are testy,  
Their rage, if stood against, grows violent;  
But suffered and forborn, confounds itself.   Sir Har. 
Where's Taber?  Taber. 
At hand, noble Master.  Sir Har. 
Show them the door.  Taber. 
That I will, and take money too, if it please them.  Senc. 
Is thy name Taber?  Taber. 
I am so ecliped Sir.  Senc. 
And Taber, are you appointed to give us Jack Drum's entertainment?  Taber. 
Why sir, you do not play upon me.  Sencer. 
Though I cannot, yet I have known an Hare that could. But Knight, thou dost not forbid us the House.  Sir Har. 
Yes, and forewarn it too.  Sencer. 
But by thy favour, we may choose whether we will take any warning or no. Well, farewell old Knight, though thou forbidst me thine house, I'll honour thee, and extol thee; and though thou keep'st me from thy Daughter, thou shalt not hinder me to love her, and admire her: and by thy favour, sometimes to see her: A cat may look at a King, and so may I at her. Give me thine hand, Knight, the next time I come into thy company, thou shalt not only bid me welcome, but hire me to stay with thee, and thy daughter.  Sir. Har. 

When I do that, enjoy my full consent,  
To marry Graciana.   Sencer. 

'tis a match, strike me luck:  
Wife that may be, farewell: Father in law that  
Must be, adieu. Taber, play before, my friend  
And I will dance after.   Exeunt. Sir Har. 

When I receive thee gladly to mine house,  
And wage thy stay, thou shalt have Gratiana,  
Doubt not, thou shalt. Here's a strange Humourist,  
To come a-wooing. Taber, are they gone?   Tab. 
I have played them away, if it please your Worship; and yonder at the door attends a Schoolmaster, you sent for him, if you remember, to teach my little young Master and Mistress.  Sir Har. 
A proper Scholar, pray him to come neare.  Enter a pedantical Schoolmaster, Sir Boniface. Sir Bonif. 
Eques Honoratus: Ave fulutatus: non video quid est in Tergo, sed salve bona virgo.  Sir Har. 
Sir, you may call me nicknames: if you love me, speak in your Mother-tongue; or at the least, if Learning be so much allied unto you, that Latin unawares flows from your lips: to make your mind familiar with my knowledge, pray utter it in English: what's your name?  Sir Bonif. 

Sit faustum tibi omen.  
I'll tell you my Nomen.   Sir Har. 

Will you tell it to no men.  
I'll entertain none ere I know their names:  
Nay, if you be so dainty of your name,  
You are not for my service.   Sir Bonif. 
Intend vir nobilis.  Sir Har. 

Not for twenty Nobles:  
Trust me, I will not buy your name so dear.   Sir Bon. 

O Ignorantia! what it is to deal with stupidity?  
Sir Henry, Sir Henry, hear me one word,  
I see, preceptor legit, vos vero negligitis.   Tab. 
I think he saith we are a company of fools, and nidgets, but I hope you shall not find us such, Master Schoolmaster.  Sir Har. 

Friend, friend, to cut off all vain circumstance,  
Tell me your name, and answer me directly,  
Plainly, and to my understanding too,  
Or I shall leave you: here's a deal of gibberish.   Sir Bonif. 
Vir bone.  Sir Har. 
Nay, nay, make me no bones, but do't.  Sir Bonif. 
Then in plain vulgar English I am called, Sir Boniface Absee.  Sir Har. 

Why this is somewhat like, Sir Boniface,  
Give me thine hand, thou art a proper man,  
And in my judgement, a great Scholar too:  
What shall I give thee by the year?   Sir Bonif. 

I'll trust, Sir, to your generosity;  
I will not bargain, but account myself  
Mille & mille modis, bound to you.   Sir Har. 

I cannot leave my Mills, they're farmed already,  
The stipend that I give, shall be in money.   Taber. 
Sure Sir, this is some Miller that comes to undermine you, in the shape of a Schoolmaster.  Grat. 
You both mistake the Scholar.  Sir Har. 

I understand my English, that I know;  
What's more than Modern, doth surpass my reach.  
Sir Boniface, come to me two days hence,  
You shall receive an answer; I have now,  
Matters of some import that trouble me,  
Thou shouldst be else dispatched.   Taber. 
Sir Boniface, if you come to live in our house, and be a Familist amongst us, I shall desire you better acquaintance, your Name and my Phisnomy should have some consanguinity, good Sir Boniface.  Sir Bonif. 
Quomodo vales, quomodo vales.  Taber. 
Go with you to the Alehouse? I like the motion well; I'll make an excuse out of doors and follow you. I am glad yet, we shall have a goodfellow come into the house amongst us.  Sir Bonif. 
Vale vir Magno.  Sir Har. 
You shall not have me at Saint Magnes, my house is here in Gracious-street.  Sir Bonif. 

I know it, sweet Knight, I know it.  
Then virgo formosa, & Domine gratiose valete.   Sir Har. 

ay, in Gracious-street you shall hear of me,  
Sir Bonif. He shall instruct my children; and to thee,  
Fair Gratiana, read the Latin tongue,   Taber. 
Who, shall Sir Bawdy-face?  Sir Har. 
Sir Boniface, you fool.  Taber. 
His name is so hard to hit on.  Sir Har. 

Come Daughter, if things fall out as I intend,  
My thoughts shall peace have, and these troubles end.   Exeunt.  
Explicit Actus secundus.   


Actus tertius, Scena prima.  Enter the second Luce, which was jack in woman's apparel, and the Wise-woman. Wisewo. 
jack, thou art my Boy.  2. Luce. 
Mistress!  Wisewo. 
I'll be a Mother to thee, no Mistress: come Lad, I must have thee sworn to the orders of my house, and the secrets thereof.  2. Luce. 
As I am an honest Lad, I am yours to command. But Mistress, what mean all these women's pictures, hanged here in your withdrawing room?  Wisewo. 
I'll tell thee, Boy; marry thou must be secret. When any Citizens, or young Gentlemen come hither, under a colour to know their Fortunes, they look upon these pictures, and which of them they best like, she is ready with a wet finger: here they have all the furniture belonging to a private-chamber, bed, bedfellow and all; but mum, thou knowest my meaning, Jack.  2. Luce. 
But I see coming and going, Maids, or such as go for Maids, some of them, as if they were ready to lie down, sometimes two or three delivered in one night; then suddenly leave their Brats behind them, and convey themselves into the City again: what becomes of their Children?  Wisewo. 
Those be Kitchenmaids, and Chambermaids, and sometimes good men's Daughters; who having catched a clap, and growing near their time, get leave to see their friends in the Country, for a week or so: then hither they come, and for a matter of money, here they are delivered. I have a Mid wife or two belonging to the house, and one Sir Boniface a Deacon, that makes a shift to christian the Infants: we have poor, honest, and secret Neighbours, that stand for common Gossips. But dost not thou know this?  2. Luce. 
Yes, now I do: but what after becomes of the poor Infants?  Wisewo. 
Why, in the night we send them abroad, and lay one at this man's door, and another at that, such as are able to keep them; and what after becomes of them, we inquire not. And this is another string to my Bow.  2. Luce. 

Most strange, that woman's brain should apprehend  
Such law less, indirect, and horrid means  
For covetous gain! How many unknown Trades  
Women and men are free of, which they never  
Had Charter for? but Mistress, are you so  
Cunning as you make yourself: you can  
Neither write nor read, what do you with hose  
Books you so often turn over?   Wisew. 
Why tell the leaves; for to be ignorant, and seem ignorant, what greater folly?  2. Luce. 
Believe me, this is a cunning Woman; neither hath she her name for nothing, who out of her ignorance, can fool so many that think themselves wise. But wherefore have you built this little Closet close to the door, where sitting, you may hear every word spoken, by all such as ask for you.  Wisewo. 
True, and therefore I built it: if any knock, you must to the door and question them, to find what they come about, if to this purpose, or to that. Now they ignorantly telling thee their errand, which I sitting in my Closet, over hear, presently come forth, and tell them the cause of their coming, with every word that hath passed betwixt you in private: which they admiring, and thinking it to be miraculous, by their report I become thus famous.  2. Luce. 
This is no Trade, but a Mystery; and were I a Wise-woman, as indeed I am but a foolish Boy, I need not live by your service. But Mistress, we lose ourselves in this discourse, is not this the morning in which I should be married?  Wisewo. 
Now, how had I forgot myself? Mistress Luce promised to be with me half an hour ago, but masked and disguised, and so shalt thou be too: here's a black Veil to hide thy face against the rest come.  Enter Sir Boniface. Sir Bonif. 
Sit tibi bona dies: salus & quies.  Wisewo. 
Into the withdrawing room, Sir Boniface.  Sir Bonif. 
Without any compunction, I will make the Conjunction.  Exit. Wisewo. 
Now keep thy countenance, Boy.  2. Luce. 
Fear not me, I have as good a face in a Mask, as any Lady in the Land could wish to have: but to my heart, he comes, or he comes not; now am I in a pitiful perplexity, until I see the event of all.  Wisewo. 
No more Jack now, but Mistress Luce.  2. Luce. 
I warrant you Mistress: that it happens so luckily, that my name should be Luce too, to make the marriage more firm!  Enter Chartley disguised, and in a Wizard. Chart. 
My honey sweet Hag, where's Luce?  Wisewo. 
Here sweet heart, but disguised and veiled, as you are vizarded.  Chart. 
But what's the reason we are thus Hoodwinked?  Wisew. 
No discovery of yourselves for a million, there's Sir Boniface within, shall he blab who you are? Besides, there's a young Heir that hath stolen a lord's Daughter from the Court, and would not have their faces seen for a World: cannot you be content to fare well, and keep your own counsel, and see, yonder they come.  Enter at several places, Boyster vizarded, and Luce masked. Chart. 
gramercy my sugar-candy sweet Trot.  Wisewo. 
Mum, no more words.  Chart. 
If the great Heir and the young Lady be so dainty of their Complexions, they shall see (my sweet Luce) we can wizard it with the best of them.  Luce. 
That Gentleman, by the wise-woman's description, should be Master Chartley. (Meaning Boyster.)  Boyst. 

That gallant Wench, if my Grannam fable not,  
Should be Luce: but what be those other?   Wisewo. 
You wrong me, but to ask, who but a young Heir, and a Lady of the Court: that's Luce, take her, and keep your promise.  Boyst. 
Pocas palabras.  Wisewo. 
That's Chartley, take him Luce.  Luce. 
But who be they?  Wisewo. 

A Lord and Lady shall Sir Boniface stay,  
Rather than so, strive who should lead the way.   Exeunt Chartley with jack, Boyster with Luce. Wisewo. 
Now jack my Boy, keep thine own counsel, and countenance, and I shall cry quittance with my young Gallant. Well, by this time Sir Boniface is at his Book. But because there is a mistake, known only to my Boy and myself; the Marriage shall be no sooner ended, but I'll disturb them by some sudden outcry, and that too, before they have leisure to unmask, and make known themselves one to another; for if the deceit were known, I should fall into the danger of that young mad Rascal. And now this double apprehension of the Lord and the Lady shall fetch me off from all; I know it is Sir Boniface his custom, to make short work, and hath dispatched by this: And now Wise-woman, try if thou canst bestir thyself like to a Madwoman— shift for yourselves, Warrants and Pursuivants! Away, Warrants and Pursuivants! shift for yourselves.  Enter, as affrighted and amazed, Chartley, Boyster, Boniface, and others. Chart. 
I'll take this way.  Boyst. 
I this.  Exeunt. Bonif. 

Curro Curris Curcurri: My cheeks are all Murry,  
And I am gone in an hurry.   Exit. Luce. 
O Heaven! what shall become of me?  2. Luce. 
I know what shall become of me already.  Wisewo. 
O sweet Daughter, shift clothes with this Lady! Nay, as thou lov'st thy credit and mine, change Habits— So, if thou be'st taken in her Garments, finding the mistake, will let thee pass; and should they meet her in thine, not knowing her, would no way question her: and this prove to both your securities and my safety.  Luce. 
As fast as I can, good Mother: So Madam farewell.  2. Luce. 
All happy joys betide you.  Exit. Wisew. 
Ha, ha, let me hold my sides, and laugh: Here were even a Plot to make a play on, but that Chartley is so fooled by my Boy Jack: Well, he'll make a notable Wag, I'll warrant him. All the jest will be, if Boyster should meet with him in Luce's habit, which he hath now on, he would think himself merely gulled and cheated; and should Chartley meet with Luce as she is now Robed, he would be confident he had married her. Let me see how many Trades have I to live by: First, I am a wise-woman, and a Fortune-teller, and under that I deal in Physic and Fore-speaking, in Palmistry, and recovering of things lost. Next, I undertake to cure Mad folks. Then I keep Gentlewomen Lodgers, to furnish such Chambers as I let out by the night: Then I am provided for bringing young Wenches to bed; and for a need, you see I can play the Matchmaker. She that is but one, and professeth so many, may well be termed a Wise-woman, if there be any.  Exit. Enter Boyster. Boyst. 
Why, run away, and leave my Wench behind? I'll back: what have Warrants and Pursuivants to do with me? with me? why should I budge? why should I wear Mask or Wizard? If Lords or Ladies offend, let Lords and Ladies answer; let me better bethink me. Why should I play at Hob-man blind? Hum; why marry in Tenebris, ha! is there no trick in it? If my Grannam should make me a younger Brother now, and instead of Luce, pop me off with some broken commodity, I were finely served: most sure I am, to be in for better and worse, but with whom, Heaven and my Grannam knows.  Enter half ready and masked, 2. Luce. 2. Luce. 
I am stolen out of doors, to see if I can meet my Husband; with whom I purpose to make some sport, ere I suddenly disclose myself: what's he?  Boyst. 
Heyday, what have we here, an hobbadehoy? come hither you.  2. Luce. 

'Tis Mistress Luce's Husband,  
I'll not leave him thus.   Boyst. 
What art thou?  2. Luce. 
Do you not know me?  Boyst. 
That Mask and Robe I know?  2. Luce. 
I hope so, or else I were in a woe case.  Boyst. 
That Mask, that Gown I married.  2. Luce. 
Then you have no reason, but to enjoy both them and me too, and so you are like; I should be loath to divorce Man and Wife.  Boyst. 
I am fooled, but what cracked ware are you, forsooth?  2. Luce. 
I belong to the old Gentlewoman of the house.  Boyst. 
I'll set her house on fire: I am finely bobbed.  2. Luce. 
But I hope you will not bob me.  Boyst. 
No I'll warrant thee: what art thou? Girl or Boy?  2. Luce. 
Both, and neither; I was a Lad last night, but in the morning I was conjured into a Lass: And being a Girl now, I shall be translated to a Boy anon. Here's all I can at this time say for myself: Farewell.  Boyst. 
Yes, and be hanged withal. O for some Gun powder to blow up this Witch, this She-male, this damned Sorceress! O I could tear her to fitters with my teeth! Yet I must be patient, and put up all, lest I be made a jeer to such as know me: fooled by a Boy! Go too, of all the rest, the Girl Luce must not know it.  Exit. Enter Chartley and his man, meeting Luce. Chart. 
So, now am I the same man I was yesterday; who can say I was disguised? or who can distinguish my condition now? or read in my face, whether I be a married man, or a Bachelor?  Luce. 
Who's that?  Chart. 
Luce.  Luce. 
Sweet Husband, is it you?  Chart. 
The news?  Luce. 
Never so frighted in my days.  Chart. 
What's become of the Lord and the Lady?  Luce. 
The Lord fled after you, the Lady stayed; who masked, and half unready, ran fast after her poor affrighted Husband: now all's quiet.  Chart. 
This storm is then well passed, and now convey yourself home as privately as you can: and see you make this known to none but your Father.  Luce. 
I am your Wife and Servant.  Exit. Chart. 
This name of Luce hath been ominous to me; one Luce I should have married in the Country, and just the night before, a toy took me in the head, and mounting my Horse, I left Capons, Ducks, Geese, Poultry, wild-fowl, Father, and Bride and all, and posted up to London, where I have ever since continued Bachelor, till now. And now—  Enter Gratiana in haste, a Servingman before her, and Taber after her. Grat. 
Nay on, I Prithee fellow on, my Father will wonder where I have been visiting. Now, what had I forgot? Taber, there's money, go to the Goldsmiths, bid him send me my Fan; and make a quick return: on, fellow on.  Exit. Taber. 
Her Fan at the Goldsmiths! now had I forgot to ask her his name, or his sign: but I will after to know.  Chart. 

Sirrah, go call me back that Servingman,  
And ask him what's the Gentlewoman's name.   Servant. 
I shall; ho, you: Friend, you.  Taber. 
Who's that calls?  Servant. 
'Twas I.  Taber. 
Your business? you should be one, though not of my cognisance, yet of my condition: a Serving-creature, as I take it: pray what's your will with me?  Servant. 
Pray Sir, what might I call that Gentlewoman, on whom you were attendant?  Taber. 
You may call her what you please, but if you call her otherwise than in the way of honesty, you may perchance hear on't.  Servant. 
Nay, be not offended: I say, what do you call her?  Taber. 
Why Sir, I call her as it shall best please me, sometimes young Lady, sometimes young Mistress; and what hath any man to do with that?  Chart. 
Are you so captious, sirrah, what's her name? Speak, and be brief.  Taber. 
ay marry Sir, you speak to purpose, and I can resolve you: her name is Gratiana. But all this while I have forgot my Mistress Fan.  Exit. Chart. 
Gratiana! oft have I heard of her, but saw her not till now: 'tis a pretty wench, a very pretty wench, nay, a very, very, very pretty wench. But what a Rogue am I, of a married man? nay, that have not been married this six hours, and to have my shittle-wits run a Woolgathering already? What would poor Luce say if she should hear of this? I may very well call her poor Luce, for I cannot presume of five pounds to her portion: what a Coxcomb was I, being a Gentleman, and well derived, to match into so beggarly a kindred? What needed I to have grafted in the stock of such a Choke Pear, and such a goodly poppering as this to escape me? Escape me (said I?) if she do, she shall do it narrowly: but I am married already, and therefore it is not possible, unless I should make away my wife, to compass her. Married! why who knows it? I'll outface though Priest, and then there is none but she and her Father, and their evidence is not good in Law: and if they put me in suit, the best is, they are poor, and cannot follow it. I marry Sir, a man may have some credit by such a Wife as this; I could like this marriage well, if a man might change away his Wife, still as he is a weary of her, and cope her away like a bad commodity: if every new Moon a man might have a new Wife, that's every year a dozen. But this, Till Death us depart, is tedious: I will go a-wooing to her, I will; but how shall I do for jewels and tokens? Luce hath mine in her custody, money and all; tush, I'll juggle them from her well enough: see, here she comes.  Enter Luce, and her Father. Luce. 
Here is my Husband, I pray move him in it.  Father. 

It toucheth both our reputations nearly;  
For by his oft repair, now whilst the Marriage  
Is kept from public knowledge, your good name  
May be by Neighbours hardly censured of.   Chart. 
thouart sad, thouart sad Luce what, melancholy already, ere thou hast had good cause to be merry, and know'st what sport was.  Luce. 

I have great reason, when my name is tossed  
In every gossip's mouth, and made a byword  
Unto such people as it least concerns.  
Nay, in my hearing, as they pass along,  
Some have not spared to brand my modesty,  
Saying, There sits she whom young Chartley keeps.  
There hath he entered late, betimes gone forth.  
Where I with pride was wont to sit before,  
I'm now with shame sent blushing from the door.   Chart. 
Alas poor fool, I am sorry for thee, but yet cannot help thee, as I am a Gentleman. Why say Luce, thou losest now forty shillings worth of Credit, stay but a time, and it shall bring thee in a thousand pounds worth of commodity.  Father. 

Son, Son, had I esteemed my profit more  
Than I have done my credit, I had now  
Been many thousands richer: but you see,  
Truth and good dealing bear an humble sail;  
That little I enjoy, it is with quiet,  
Got with good conscience, kept with good report:  
And that I still shall labour to preserve.   Chart. 
But do you hear me?  Father. 

Nothing I'll hear, that tends unto the ruin  
Of mine, or of my daughter's honesty.  
Shall I be held a Broker to lewd Lust,  
Now in my wane of years?   Chart. 
Will you but hear me?  Father. 

Not in this case. I that have lived thus long,  
Reported well, esteemed a welcome Guest  
At every burdened Table, there respected;  
Now to be held a Pander to my Daughter?  
That I should live to this!   Chart. 
But hark you Father?  Father. 
A Bawd to mine own child!  Chart. 
Father?  Father. 
To my sweet Luce!  Chart. 
Father?  Father. 

Deal with me like a Son, then call me Father;  
I that have had the tongues of every man  
Ready to crown my Reputation:  
The hands of all my Neighbours to subscribe  
To my good like; and such as could not write,  
Ready with Palsy and unlettered fingers,  
To set their scribbling marks.   Chart. 
Why Father in Law?  Father. 

Thou hadst a Mother Luce; 'tis woe with me  
To say thou hadst, but haste not; a kind Wife,  
And a good Nurse she was: she, had she lived  
To hear my name thus canvased, and thus tossed,  
Seven years before she died, I had been a Widower  
Seven years before I was: Heaven rest her soul,  
She is in Heaven I hope.   (He wipes his eyes.) Chart. 
Why so now, these be good words, I knew these storms would have a shower, and then they would cease. Now if your anger be over, hear me.  Father. 
Well, say on Son.  Chart. 
Stay but a Month, 'tis but four Weeks; nay, 'tis February, the shortest Month of the year, and in that time I shall be at full age; and the Land being entailed, my Father can disinherit me of nothing. Is your spleen down now Have I satisfied you? Well, I see you choleric hasty men, are the kindest when all is done. Here's such wetting of handkerchers, he weeps to think of his Wife, she weeps to see her Father cry! Peace fool, we shall else have thee claim kindred of the Woman killed with kindness.  Father. 

Well Son, my anger's past; yet I must tell you,  
It grieves me that you should thus slight it off,  
Concerning us, no such a dear degree.  
In private be it spoke, my Daughter tells me,  
she's both a Wife and Maid.   Chart. 
That may be helped.  
Now Luce, your Fathers pacified, will you be pleased? I would endure a quarter's punishment for thee, and wilt not thou suffer a poor months' penance for me? 'Tis but eight and twenty days, Wench; thou shalt fare well all the time, drink well, eat well, lie well: come, one word of comfort at the later end of the day.  Luce. 

Yours is my fame, mine honour, and my heart  
Linked to your pleasure, and shall never part.   Chart. 
Gramercy Wench, thou shalt wear this chain no longer for that word, I'll multiply the links in such order, that it shall have light to shine about thy neck, oftener than it doth: this jewel, a plain Bristol stone, a counterfeit. How base was I, that coming to thee in the way of Marriage, courted thee with counterfeit stones? Thou shalt wear right, or none: thou hast no money about thee, Luce?  Luce. 
Yes Sir, I have the hundred pounds that you gave me to lay up last.  Chart. 
Fetch it; let me see, how much branched Satin goes to a Petticoat? and how much wrought Velvet to a Gown? then for a Beaver for the City, and a blackbag for the Country: I'll promise her nothing, but if any such trifles be brought home, let her not thank me for them.  Enter Luce with the Bag. 
Gramercy Luce, Nay, go in, Gravity and Modesty, ten to one but you shall hear of me, ere you see me again.  Father. 
I know you kind, impute my hasty Language unto my rage, not me.  Chart. 
Why, do not I know you, and do not I know her? I doubt you'll wish shortly that I had never known either of you: now, what sayst thou, my sweet Luce?  Luce. 
My words are yours. so is my life: I am now part of yourself, so made by Nuptial vows.  Chart. 
What a Pagan am I, to practise such villainy against this honest Christian! If Gratiana did come into my thoughts, I should fall into a vain to pity her: but now that I talk of her, I have a tongue to woo her, Tokens to win her; and that done, if I do not find a trick, both to wear her, and weary her, it may prove a piece of a Wonder. Thou seest, Luce, I have some store of Crowns about me, there are brave things to be bought in the City; Cheapside, and the Exchange, afford variety and rarity. This is all I will say now, but thou mayest hear more of me hereafter.  Exit. Luce. 

Heaven speed you where you go Sir; shall we in?  
Though not from scandal, we live free from Sin.   Father. 
I'll in before.  Exit. Enter Master Boyster. Boyst. 

I am still in love with Luce, and I would know  
An answer more directly: fie, fie, this Love  
Hangs on me like an Ague, makes me turn fool,  
Coxcomb and Ass: why should I love her, why?  
A Rattle-Baby, puppet, a slight toy,  
And now I could go to buffets with myself,  
And cuff this Love away: but see, that's Luce.   Luce. 
I cannot shun him, but I'll shake him off.  Boyst. 
Morrow.  Luce. 
As much to you.  Boyst. 
I'll use few words, Canst love me?  Luce. 
Deed Sir no.  Boyst. 
Why the farewell, the way I came, I'll go.  Exit. Luce. 

This is no tedious Courtship, he's soon answered,  
So should all Suitors else be, were they wise;  
For being repulsed, they do but waste their days  
In thankless suits, and superficial praise.   Enter Boyster again. Boyst. 
Swear that thou wilt not love me.  Luce. 

Not Sir, for any hate I ever bore you,  
Or any foolish pride, or vain conceit:  
Or that your feature doth not please mine eye,  
Or that you are not a brave Gentleman:  
But for concealed reasons I am forced  
To give you this cold answer; and to swear  
I must not, then with patience pray forbear.   Boyst. 
Even farewell then.  Exit. Luce. 

The like to you, and save your hopes in me.  
Heaven grant you your best wishes; all this strife  
Will end itself, when I am known a Wife.   Exeunt.  
Explicit Actus tertius.   


Actus 4us. Scena prima.  Enter Sir Harry, M. Harringsfield Gratiana with others. Sir Harry. 
I am satisfied good M. Harringsfield touching your friend, and since I see you have left his dangerous company, I limit you to be a welcome guest unto my Table.  Harring. 
You have been always noble.  Enter Taber. Sir Harry. 
Taber: the news with thee?  Taber. 
May it please the right worshipful to understand that there are some at the Gate who dance a turn or two without, and desire to be admitted to speak with you within.  Sir Harry. 
The Scholar is it not.  Taber. 
Nay sir, there are two Scholars, and they are spouting Latin one against the other; And in my simple judgement the stranger is the better Scholar, and is somewhat too hard for sir Boniface: For he speaks louder, and that you know is ever the sign of the most learning, and he also hath a great desire to serve your Worship.  Sir Harry. 
Two scholars; My house hath not place for two, thus it shall be. Taber admit them both, we though unlearned will hear them two dispute, and he that of the two seems the best read, shall be received, the other quite cashiered.  Harring. 
In that you show but justice, in all persons merit should be regarded.  Enter Taber ushering sir Boniface and Sencer, disguised like a pedant. Sir Boniface. 
Venerabilis magistri: Absint vobis capistri.  Sencer. 

Et tu domini calve, iterum atque, iterum salve,  
Amo amas amavi, sweet Lady Heaven save ye.   Sir Harry. 
This approves him to be excellent, but I thank my breeding I understand not a word, you tongue-men you whose wealth lies in your brains; Not in your budgets hear me: Be it known, my house affords room for one Schoolmaster but not for more. And I am thus resolved, take you that side gentle sir Boniface, and sir possess you that.  
He of you two in arguing proves the best. To him will I subscribe are you agreed.  Sir Boniface. 
Nec animo, nec cord, nec utroque.  Senc. 
No more of that nec cord, noble Knight, he wishes you nec cord, think of that.  Sir Harry. 

A Cord about my neck, sir Boniface.  
Speak do you use me well.   Sir Boniface. 
Domine currogas:  Senc. 

Is this to be endured, to call a Knight.  
Cur, Rogue and Ass.   Sir Harry. 
I find myself abused.  Harring. 
Yet patience good sir Harry, and hear more pray sir Boniface: of what University? Were you of.  Sir Boniface. 
I was student in Brazen nose.  Harring. 
A man might guess so much by your pimples, and of what place were you:  Senc. 
Petrus dormit securus; I was Sir of Peter house Sir Boniface. Natus eram, in Woxford, and I proceeded in Oxford.  Senc. 
Est mihi bene nostrum, thou wouldest say, in Gotam; For my part sir Harry, I can read Service and Marry, Que genus et flexum, though I go in genes fustian, scalpellum et charta I was not brought up at Plough & cart, I can teach Qui mihi, and neither laugh nor tee-hee, said as in present, if your worship at this present, Iste, Ista Istud, will do me any good, to give me legem pone in Gold or in money. Piper atque papaver, I'll deserve it with my labour.  Harring. 
But when go you to dispute.  Sir Boniface. 
Nomnativo hic prediculus, his words are most ridiculous: But tu thou, qui the which, deridest those that be rich, consterve hanc sententiam, construe me this sentence. Est modus in rebus sunt certi denique fines:  Sencer. 

Est modus in rebus: There is mud in the rivers.  
Sunt certi denique fines, and certain little Fishes.   Sir Harry. 
I warrant you he hath his answer ready.  Sir Boniface. 
Dij boni boni.  Harring. 
he'll give you more bones than those to know on Sir Boniface.  Senc. 
Kartere Moosotropos Poluphiltate phile poetatis Taes Logikes retoon, onch elashiste sophoon.  
That is as much as to say, in our materna lingua I will make you sir Boniface, confess yourself an Ass in English, speak open and broad words, for want of Latin, and Denique instruct me to resolve such questions as I shall ask you in our modern tongue.  Sir Harry. 
Confess him an Ass, speak obscene words after entreat thee to resolve thy questions. Do that, possess the place.  Sencer. 
Di do and dumb: No more words but mum:  Sir Boniface. 
Noble sir Harry; Nunquam sic possit?  Sir Harry. 
Sir Boniface is sick already and calls for a possit, no marvel, being so threatened.  Sencer. 
You Boniface, decline me I am a no after the first conjugation, amo amavi, vocito vocitavi. Titubo titubavi?  Sir Boniface. 

I am not the preceptor to a pupil.  
But can decline it, mark sir Timothy:  
I am a no,   Sencer. 
Bene bene.  Sir Boniface. 
I am an as?  Senc. 
Most true most true, vos estis, ut egojum testes, that what he confessed is, as true as the pestis.  Sir Harry. 
This Scholar works by magic he hath made him confess himself an Ass.  Sir Boniface. 
Per has meas manus vir, tues insanus,  Sencer. 
I'll make him fret worse yet; Sir Boniface: quid est grammatica.  Sir Boniface. 
Grammatica est ars,  Sir Harry. 
Fie, fie, no more of these words good sir Boniface.  Sencer. 

Attend again, proceed me with this verse  
of reverent Cato: Si deus est animus-   Sir Boniface. 
Nobis ut carmina dicunt.  Taber. 
Di quoth ha, out on him for a beastly man.  Sir Harry. 
I would not have him teach my children so for more than I am worth.  Sir Bonif. 
O! but reverend sir Harry you must subaudi.  Sir Harry. 
I'll never be so bawdy whilst I live, nor any of mine I hope.  Sir Boniface. 
O! Propria quae maribus:  Sir Harry. 
Ey Boniface, it is those maribones, that makes you talk so broadly?  Sir Boniface. 
Venerabilis vir homo ille est ebrius.  Sir Harry. 
What doth he mean by that.  Sencer. 
He saith, I can speak Hebrew  Sir Harry. 

I believe't:  
But if sir Boniface still con these lessons,  
He'll, speak the French tongue perfect.   Sencer. 
Now to the last, I'll task sir Boniface, but with an easy question. Tell me sir: What's Latin for this Earth?  Sir Boniface. 
Facile and easy more fit for the pupil than the preceptor: what's Latin for this Earth? Tellus.  Sencer. 
Tell you; no sir, it belongs to you to tell me.  Sir Boniface. 
I say Tellus is Latin for the Earth.  Sencer. 
And I say, I will not tell you what is Latin for the Earth; unless you yield me victor:  Sir Harry. 

You have no reason: good sir Timothy,  
The place is yours.   Harring. 
He hath deserved it well.  Senser. 

But I'll deserve it better, why this fellow  
is Frantic, you shall hear me make him speak  
Idly and without sense. I'll make him say,  
His Nose was Husband to a Queen,   He whispers to sir Harry. Sir Harry. 
Sir Timothy not possible.  Taber. 
He will not speak it for shame.  Sencer. 
That you shall here; Magister Boniface.  Sir Boniface. 
Quid ais domine Timothy.  Sencer. 
Who was Pasiphae's husband Queen of Crete.  Sir Boniface. 
Who knows not that, why Minos was her Husband.  Sencer. 
That his nose was; did I not tell you so.  Sir Boniface. 
I say that Minos was:  Sencer. 
That his Nose was ha has.  Sir Harry. 
I'll not believe it.  Sir Boniface, 

there are a brace of Angels.  
You are not for my turn sir Timothy.  
You are the man shall read unto my daughter  
The Latin tongue, in which I am ignorant:  
Confess yourself an Ass; speak bawdy words;  
And after to talk idly. Hence away:  
You shall have my good word, but not my pay?   Sir Boniface. 

Opus est usus; sir Timothy you abuse us.  
Is wear by a noun, had I thy hose down,  
Qui que quod, I would so smoke thee with the rod:  
Ille Illa Illud, until I fetch blood.  
But Nobiles valete, remain in quiet.   Exit. Sir Harry. 

Sir Timothy, there is some Gold in earnest,  
I like you well take into your tuition,   
My daughter Gratiana; the news Taber.  Enter Taber Taber. 
Of another gallant noble sir that pretends to have business, both with you and my mistress,  Sir Harry. 
Admit him.  Enter Chartly very gallant, in his hand a Lady. Taber. 
Lusty juventus; will it please you to draw near.  Chart. 
Noble Knight, whilst you peruse that sweet Lady, tell me how you like this:  kisseth her. Gratia. 

You press so suddenly upon me sir  
I know not what to answer.   Sencer. 
Mad Chartly; what makes desperation here.  Chart. 
To the word wooer let me add the name speeder my father hath written to your father, and the cause of his writing at this present, is to let you understand, that he fears you have lived a maid too long: and therefore to prevent all diseases incident to the same; as the green sickness and others. He sent me like a skilful Physician, to take order with you against all such maladies. If you will not credit me, list but how fervently my father writes in my behalf.  Sir Harry. 
He is my only son, and she I take as your only daughter, what should hinder then,  
To make a match between them, (well 'tis well 'tis good I like it) I will make her jointure three hundred pounds a year.  Chart. 
How say you by that sweet Lady three hundred pounds a year and a proper man to boot.  Sir Harry. 

All's good, I like it, welcome M. Chartly.  
Thou Gratiana art no child of mine  
Unless thou bidst him welcome. This I presume  
To be your father's hand.   Chart. 
But I'll be sworn he never writ it.  Sir Harry. 
And this his seal at Arms.  Chart. 

Or else I understand it very poorly, but Lady  
In earnest of further acquaintance, receive this Chain,  
These jewels, hand and heart.   Sir Harry. 
Refase no Chain nor jewels, heart nor hand, but in exchange of these bestow thyself thine own dear self upon him.  Gratia. 
myself on him, whom I tell now I ne'er saw? Well since I must, your will's to me a law.  Senc. 
Nay then 'tis time to speak, shall I stand here waiting like a Coxcomb, and see her given away before my face? stay your hand sir Harry; and let me claim my promise.  Sir Harry. 
My promise I'll perform sir Timothy, you shall have all your wages duly paid.  Senc. 

I claim fair Gratiana by your promise.  
No more sir Timothy, but Sencer now,  
You promised me when you received my service,  
And with your liberal hand did wage my stay:  
To endow me freely with your daughter's Love,  
That promise now I claim.   Sir Harry. 

Mere cozenage, knavery,  
I tide myself to no conditions.  
In which such guile is practised, come son Chartly,  
To cut of all disasters incident.  
To these proceedings we will solemnize  
These Nuptial rites with all speed possible.   Chart. 
Farewell good sir Timothy; farewell learned sir Timothy.  Exeunt. Sencer. 

Why: and farewell learned sir Timothy.  
For now sir Timothy and I are two:  
Boast on, brag on, exalt exalt thyself,  
Swim in a Sea of pleasure and content  
Whilst my Bark suffers wrack I'll be revenged,  
Chartly; I'll cry vindicta for this Horn,  
Next time thou gorest, it must be with thy horn,   Exit. Enter M. Boyster Boyster. 

I am mad, and know not at what.  
I could swagger but know not with whom,  
I am at odds with myself; and know not why:  
I shall be pacified, and cannot tell when,  
I would fain have a wife but cannot tell where,  
I would fasten on Luce but cannot tell how.  
How; where; when; why; whom; what.  
Feeding sure makes me lean, and fasting fat.   Enter Luce and joseph. Luce. 
Not all this while once see me.  joseph. 
His occasions, perhaps enforce his absence.  Luce. 

His occasions:  
Unless he find occasion of new Love.  
What could enforce such absence from his spouse:  
Am I grown foul and black, since my espousals.  
It should not seem so; For the shop is daily,  
Customed with store of Chapmen, such as come  
To cheapen Love. O no, I am myself?  
But Chartly he is changed.   joseph. 
You know that Gentleman.  Luce. 
Escape him if thou canst.  Boyster. 
He cannot, I arrest you;  Luce. 
At whose suit.  Boyster. 

Not at mine own, that's dashed, I love thee not.  
Thou art a Spaniard, Gipsy, a mere Blackamoor:  
Again, I say I love thee not.   Luce. 

A blackamoor, a Gipsy?  
Sure I am changed indeed, and that's the cause  
My Husband left me so, this Gentleman  
Once termed me beautiful, how look I joseph.   joseph. 
As well as ere you did, fat, fresh, and fair.  Boyster. 
You lie boy, pocket that, and now be gone.  joseph. 
And what shall then become of my Mistress.  Boyster. 
I'll wait upon your Mistress.  Luce. 
I know you will not wait on such a gipsy.  Boyster. 
Yes Luce on such a gipsy: Boy, abi abi.  joseph. 
Abide fir, you need not fear that I have no purpose to leave her.  Boyster. 

Now you are going to the wedding-house.  
You are bid to be a Bride maid, are you not.   Luce. 
What wedding sir, or whose?  Boyster. 
Why Chartley's; Luce hath he been thy friend so long, and would not bid thee to write on his Bride. Why look'st thou red and pale, and both, and neither.  Luce. 
To Mr. Chartley's Bridals, why, to whom, Should he be married.  Boyster. 
To Grace of Gracious street.  Luce. 

To Gratiana?  
Beshrow you sir you do not use me well,  
To buzz into mine ears these strange untruths:  
I tell you sir, 'tis as impossible  
That they two should match: as Earth and Heaven to meet.   Boyster. 

You'll not believe it, pray then hark within,  
The Nuptial music echoing to their joys.  
But you give credit to no certainties:  
I told you but a tale, a lie, a fable?  
A monstrous, a notorious idle untruth,  
That you were black, and that I loved you not.  
And you could credit that.   Enter sir Harry and Haringsfield, Chartly leading Gratiana by the Arm, Taber and attendants. 

Who's telltruth now.  
Know you that man, or know you that fine Virgin:  
Whom by the arm he leads.   Luce. 
I'll not endure't: Heaven give you joy sir:  Chart. 
I thank you: Luce?  she faints. Sir Harry. 
Look to the Maid she faints.  Roist. held her up. Chartly. 

Grace, come not near her Grace.  
Father keep off, on Gentlemen apace.  
she's troubled with the falling sickness, for  
Oft hath she fallen before me.   Sir Harry. 

Nay if it be no otherwise, on gentlemen.  
Let those with her strive to recover her.  
Keep off, the disease is infectious:   Chartly. 
If it were in a man, it were nothing, but the falling sickness in a woman is dangerous.  Enter Luce's Father. 
My other father in Law, now shall I be utterly shamed, If he assure to know me, I'll out face him.  Father. 
Son your well met.  Chartly. 
How fellow.  Father. 
I cry you mercy sir.  Chart 
No harm done friend, no harm done.  Exeunt. Fath. 
If he? he could not but have known me there, Yet he was wondrous like him.  Boyst. 
How cheer you Luce, whence grew this passion.  Luce. 

Pardon me sir, I do not know myself:  
I am apt to swoon, and now the fit is past me.  
I thank you for your help; is master Chartly  
Vanished so soon:   Boyster. 
Yes: and to supply his place, see where thy father comes.  Father. 

He hath not such a suit, besides this gallant  
Led by the arm a Bride, a lusty Bride?  
How much might I have wronged the Gentleman.  
By craving his acquaintance, this it is,  
To have dim Eyes. Why looks my daughter sad.  
I cry you mercy. Sir I saw not you.   Boyst. 
I would I had not seen you at this time neither, farewell.  Exit. Luce. 
If he be gone? then call me vent my grief, Father I am undone,  Father. 
Forbid it Heaven.  Luce. 
Disgraced, despised, discarded, and cast off.  Father. 
How, mine own child:  Luce. 
My Husband, O my husband?  Father. 
What of him.  Luce. 

Shall I the shower of all my grief at once  
Power out before you: Chartly, once my husband  
Hath left me to my shame. Him and his Bride,  
I met within few minutes.   Father. 

Sure 'twas they.  
I met them two, 'twas he; base villain Jew.  
I'll to the Wedding board, and tell him so:  
I'll do't as I am a man?   Luce. 
Be not so rash.  Father. 

I'll live and die upon him;  
he's a base fellow, so I'll prove him too.  
joseph my Sword.  
This rashness will undo us.   Luce. 
I'll have my Sword.  Father. 

It hath been twice in France, and once in Spain,  
With john a Gaunt, when I was young like him  
I had my wards, and foins, and quarter-blows:  
And knew the way into St. George's fields.  
Twice in a morning, Tuttle, Finsbury?  
I knew them all, I'll too him, where's my sword,  
Or leave this spleen, or you will overthrow  
Our fortunes quite, let us consult together,  
What we were best to do.   Father. 
I'll make him play at Leapfrog, well I hear thee  Luce. 

I cannot prove our marriage, it was secret,  
And he may find some cavil in the Law.   Father. 

I'll too him with no Law, but Staffood Law.  
I'll ferret the false boy, nay on good Luce.   Luce. 

Part of your spleen, if you would change to counsel,  
we might revenge us better.   Father. 
Well I hear thee.  Luce. 

To claim a public marriage at his hands:  
we want sufficient proof, and then the world  
Will but deride our folly, and so add  
Double disgrace unto my former wrong.  
To Law with him he hath a greater purse,  
And nobler friends, how then to make it known?   Father. 

Is this his damasked kirtle fringe with Gold,  
His black bag, and his Beaner, 'tis well yet  
I have a Sword:   Luce. 

And I have a project in my Brain begot,  
To make his own mouth witness to the World  
My innocence, and his incontinence?  
Leave it to me, I'll clear myself from blame,  
Though I the wrong, yet he shall reap the shame.   Exeunt. Enter Sencer like a Servingman. Senc. 
Now or never, look about thee Sencer, tomorrow is the Marriage day which to prevent, lies not within the compass of my apprehension, therefore I have thus disguised myself, to go to thee, Looming woman's, the Fortune tellers. The any thing, the nothing, this over against mother Redcap's is her house, I'll knock.  Enter 2. Luce in her boy's shape. 2. Luce. 
whose's there? What would you have.  Sencer. 
I would speak with the wise gentlewoman of the house.  2. Luce. 
O belike you have lost somewhat.  Sencer. 
You are in the wrong sweet youth.  2. Luce. 
I am somewhat thick of hearing, pray speak out.  Sencer. 

I say I have not lost any thing, but wit and time,  
And neither of those she can help me too:   2. Luce. 
Then you belike are crossed in Love, and come to know what success you shall have.  Sencer. 
Thou hast hit it sweet lad; thou hast hit it.  2. Luce. 
What is it, you say sir:  Sencer. 
Thou hast hit it?  2. Luce. 
I pray come in, I'll bring you to my Mistress.  Exit. Enter Luce and joseph. Luce. 
This is the house, knock joseph, my business craves dispatch.  joseph. 
Now am I as angry, as thou art timorous, and now to vent the next thing I meet, O 'tis the door.  knocks. Enter 2. Luce. 2. Luce. 
Who's there, what are you.  Luce. 
A maid and a wife.  2. Luce. 

And that would grieve any wench to be so,  
I know that by myself, not Luce.   Luce. 
Boy, where's your Mistress.  2. Luce. 

In some private talk with a Gentleman?  
I'll fetch her to you presently.   Exit. Luce. 

If she and you see me not, I am but dead,  
I shall be made, a byword to the World:  
The scorn of women; and my Father's shame:   Enter Wise-woman and Sencer. Taber. 
You tell me your name is Sencer, I knew it before, and that Chartly is to be married, I could have told it you.  2. Luce. 
Married tomorrow, O me!  Sencer. 
ay but you tell me, that Chartly before tomorrow shall be disappointed of his, make that good, Thou shalt have twenty Angels.  Taber. 
I'll do't, stand aside, I'll have but a word or two with this Gentlewoman; and I am for you presently.  Luce. 
O! Mother, mother.  They whisper. 2. Luce. 
My husband marry another wife tomorrow? O changeable destiny, no sooner married to him, but instantly to lose him. Nor death it grieves me so much that I am a wife, but that I am a maid too, to carry one of them well is as much as any is bound to do, but to be tied to both, is more than flesh and blood can endure.  Taber. 
Well trust to me, and I will sell all things straight.  Enter Boyster. Boyster. 
where's this Witch, this hag, this beldame, this wizard, and have I found thee, thus then will I tear, mumble and maul thee.  Taber. 
Help, help, and if you be a gentleman.  Sencer. 
Forbear this rudeness, he that touches her, Draws against me.  Boyster. 
Against you sir, apply thou, that shall be tried.  All. 
Help, help, part them help.  Sencer. 
With patience hear her speak.  Boyster. 
Now Trot, now Granam, what canst thou say for thyself: what Luce hear be patient and put up them, she must not see the end.  Sencer. 

Than trince of all sides, if we come for counsel,  
Let us with patience hear it:   Luce. 
Then first to me.  Wisew. 
You would prevent young Chartley's marriage, you shall: hark in your ear.  Luce. 
It pleaseth me.  Wisew. 
You-forestall Gratiana's wedding, 'tis but thus.  Sencer. 
I'll do't,  Wisew. 
You would enjoy Luce as your wife, and lie with her tomorrow night. Hark in your care.  Boyster. 
Fiat.  Taber. 

Away, you shall enjoy him, you are married,  
Luce away, you shall see Chartly discarded from Gratiana,  
Sencer be gone, and if I fail in any of these or the rest,  
I lay myself open to all your displeasures.   Boyster. 
Farewell till soon:  Taber. 
You know your meeting place.  All. 
we do?  wise-woman. 
You shall report me wiser and cunning too.  Exit. 2. Luce. 

I'll add one night more to the time, I have said.  
I have not many I hope to live a maid.   Exit. Enter Taber and Sir Boniface with a Trencher, with broken meat and a Napkin. Taber. 
Fie, fie, what a time of trouble is this tomorrow tomorrow is my mistress to be married, and we serving-men are so puzzled.  Sir Boniface. 

The dinner's half done, and before I say  
Grace, and bid the old Knight and his guest proface.  
A medicine from your trencher, good M. Taber.  
As good a man as ere was sir Saber:  
Well think it no shame, men of learning and wit, say study gets a stomach, friend Taber a bit.   Taber. 
Lick clean good sir Boniface, and save the scraper a labour.  Enter Sencer like a Servingman. Sir Boniface. 

But soft let me ponder:  
Know you him that comes yonder?   Taber. 
Most heartily welcome, would you speak with any here.  Senc. 
Pray is the young gentleman of the house at leisure.  Taber. 
Mean you the Bridegroom M. Chartly.  Sencer. 
I have a Letter for him. You seem to be a gentleman yourself, acquaint him with my attendance, and I shall rest yours in all good offices.  Taber. 
Sir Boniface, pray keep the gentleman company I will first acquaint your lips with the virtue of the Seller.  Sir Boniface. 
Adesdem come near, and taste of your beer. Welcome, sine dole, for puntis te vole,  Exit. Sencer. 

When I taste of your liquor.  
Gramercy master Vicar.   Enter Taber with a bowl of Beer and a Napkine. Taber. 
Most heartily welcome: your courtesy I beseech you, ply it off I entreat you, pray sir Boniface keep the Gentleman company; till I acquaint my young master with his business.  Exit. Sir Bonif. 
Taber, I shall besolas manus.  They dissemble one to another Sencer. 
A vostre servitor.  Enter Haringsfield. Harring. 
He what art thou,  Sencer. 
A hanger on, if it please you:  Harring. 

And I a shaker off, I'll not bear your gallows,  
You shall not hang on me.   Enter Chartly with his Napkin as from Dinner. 
O. Mr Bridegroom.  Chartly. 
Gentlemen, the Ladies call upon you to dance, they will be out of measure displeased, if dinner being done, you be not ready to lead them a measure:  Harring. 
Indeed women love not to be scanted of their measure.  Chartly. 
Fie sir Boniface: have you forgot yourself, Whilst you are in the Hall, there's never a whetstone for their wits in the parlour?  Sir Boniface. 
I will enter and set an edge upon their Ingenies.  Chartly. 
To me sir, from whom? a letter to her most dear, most loving, most kind friend Mr. Chartly these be delivered: sure from some wench or other I long to know the contents.  Sencer. 
Now to cry quittance with you for my farewell learned sir Timothy.  Chartly. 
Good news, as I live, there's for thy pains my good sir Pandarus: Hadst thou brought me word my father had turned up his heels. Thou couldst scarcely have pleased me better: (He reads) though I disclaim the name of wife, of which I account myself altogether unworthy, yet let me claim some small interest in your love, this night I lie at the house where we were married, (the wise-woman's I mean) where my maidenhead is to be rifled, bid fair for it, and enjoy it, see me this night or never, so may you marrying Gratiana, and loving me, have a sweet wife and a true friend: This night or never, your quondam wife: Hereafter your poor sweetheart no other: Luce. So when I am tired with Gratiana, that is when I am past grace. With her I can make my rendezvous, I'll not slip this occasion, nor sleep till I see her, thou art an honest lad, and mayst prove a good Pimp in time. Canst thou advise me what colour, I may have to compass this commodity.  Sencer. 
Sir, she this night expects you, and prepares a costly banquet for you.  Chartly. 
I'll go, although the Devil and mischance look big,  Sencer. 
feign some news that such a piece of Land is fall'n to you, and you must instantly ride to take possession of it, or which is more probable, cannot you persuade them you have received a letter that your Father lies a dying.  Chartly. 
You rogue, I would he did but the name of that news is called, too good to be true.  Sencer 
And that if ever you will see him alive, you must ride post into the Country.  Chartly. 
Enough: if ever I prove Knight errant thou shalt be mine own proper squire, for this thou hast fitted me with a plot, do but wait here note how I will manage it,  
Tabor my horse, for I must ride tonight:  Taber. 
tonight sir.  Chartly. 
So tell my Bride and Father, I have news that quite confounds my senses.  Enter Sir Harry, Gratiana and Harringsfield. Gratiana. 

How ride tonight, the marriage day tomorrow  
And all things well provided for the feast.  
O tell me sweet, why do you look so pale.   Chartly. 
My Father, O my Father:  Grace. 
What of him.  Sir Harry. 
What of your father, Son?  Chartly. 

If ever I will here his aged tongue.  
Preach to me counsel, or his palsy hand,  
Stroke my wild head, and bless me, or his eyes:  
Drop tear by tear which they have often done,  
At my misgoverned rioting youth.  
What should I more, if ever I would see;  
The good old man alive. Oh, o?   Sencer. 
Go thy ways for thou shalt ha''t.  Grace. 
But do you mean to ride.  Chartly. 
ay Grace, all this night.  Sencer. 

Not all the night without alighting sure:  
You'll find more in't then to get up and ride,   Harring. 

The Gentleman's riding, boots and spurs.  
Why Taber?   Chartly. 

Nay Grace, now's no time.  
To stand on scrupulous parting. Knewest thou my business.   Sencer. 
As she shall know it:  Chartly. 
And how I mean this night to toil myself.  Sencer. 
Marry hang you brock.  Chartly. 
Thou would be moan my travel.  Sencer. 
I know 'twould grieve her:  Chartly. 

You father, Grace, good Mr Harringsfield.  
You sir, and all pray for me Gentlemen, that in this dark  
night's journey I may find smooth way, sweet speed and  
all things to my mind.   Sir Harry. 
we'll see my son take horse.  Exeunt. Gratiana. 

But I will stay.  
I want the heart to see him post away?   Sencer. 
Save you gentlewoman, I have a message to deliver to one Mistress Gratiana, this should be the knight's house her father.  Gratiana. 

It is: The message that you have to her.  
You may acquaint me with, for I am one  
That knows the inside of her thoughts.   Sencer. 
Are you the Lady,  Gratiana. 
Sir I am the poor gentlewoman.  Sencer. 
There is a cunning woman dwells not far.  
At Hogsden Lady, famous for her skill.  
Besides some private talk that much concerns your fortunes in your love. She hath to show you this night if it shall please you walk so far as to her house, an admirable suit.  

Of costly needle work, which if you please.  
You may by underrate for half the value  
It cost the making, about six o'clock.  
You may have view thereof, but otherwise.  
A Lady that hath craved the sight thereof:  
Must have the first refusal.   Gratiana. 

I'll not fail her.  
My husband being this day rid from home.  
My leisure fitly serves me, thank you Mistress?   Sencer. 
At six o'clock.  Gratiana. 
I will not fail the hour.  Exit. Sencer. 

Now to sir Harry, his is the next place.  
To meet at Hogsden his fair daughter Grace.   Exit.   


Actus 5us. Scena prima.  Enter old M. Chartly as new come out of the Country To inquire after his Son, and three or four serving men with blue Coats to attend him. Old Chart. 
Good heaven; This London is a stranger grown, and out of my acquaintance, this seven years I have not seen Paul's steeple, or Cheap, cross.  Gyles. 
Sir.  Old Chart. 
Hast thou not made inquiry for my Son.  Gyles. 

Yes sir, I have asked about everywhere for him,  
But cannot hear of him.   Old Chart. 
Disperse yourselves, enquire about the Taverns, ordinaries, Bowl-allies, Tennis courts, Gaming-houses. For there (I fear) he will be found.  Gyles. 
But where shall we hear of your worship again.  Old Chart. 
At Grace Church by the Conduit, near Sir Harry, but stay, leave off a while your bootless search, had e'er man such a wild brain to his sorrow, of such small hope, who when he should have married a fair, a modest, and a virtuous maid, rich and revenued well, and even the night before the marriage day, took horse, rode thence whether Heaven knows, since the distracted virgin hath left her Father's house, but neither feumd, yet in their search we have measured out much Ground.  Enter Sir Harry and Sencer. Sencer. 
Your worship will be there.  Sir Harry. 

Yes, not to fail.  
At half an hour past six, or before seven.   Sencer. 

You shall not find us at six and at seven, I'll  
Warrant you: good health to your worship.   Exit. Sir Harry. 

Farewell good fellow,  
At the wise-woman's house I know it well:  
Perhaps she knows some danger touching me.  
I'll keep mine hour.   Old Chart. 

Sir Harry, a hand a hand to balk you it were siun.  
I shall be bold to make your house mine Inn:   Sir Harry. 
Brother Chartly; I am glad to see you.  Old Chart. 

methinks sir Harry you look strangely on me.  
And do not bid me welcome with an heart.   Sir Harry. 

And blame me not to look amazedly,  
To see you hear.   Old Chart. 
Why me?  Sir Harry. 

Come come, y'are welcome.  
And now I'll turn my strangeness to true joy,  
I am glad to see you well, and safe recovered,  
Of your late grievous sickness.   Old Chart. 

The strange amazed looks that you cast off  
You put on me, and blame me not to wonder,  
That you should talk of sickness to sound men,  
I thank my stars, I did not taste the grief  
Of inward pain or outward malady,  
This seven years' day.   Sir Harry. 

But by your favour brother,  
Then let me have my wonder back again.   Old Chart. 

Before I quite part with it, let me know,  
Why you the name of brother put upon me.  
In every clause, a name as strange to me:  
As my recovered sickness,   Sir Harry. 

You are pleasant,  
And it becomes you well, welcome again,  
The rather you are come just to the wedding.   Old Chart. 
What wedding sir.  Sir Harry. 

That you should ask that question:  
Why of my daughter Grace.   Old Chart. 
Is Grace bestowed? Of whom I pray,  Sir Harry. 

Of whom, but of your son.  
I wonder brother Chartly, and my friend,  
You should thus play on me.   Old Chart. 

But by your favour,  
Were you ten Knights Sir Harry, (take me with you)  
My son match with your daughter, my consent,  
Not worthy to be craved.   Sir Harry. 
Nay, than I see:  
You'll stir my patience, know this forward match took its first birth from you.  Old Chart. 
From me?  Sir Harry. 

From you.  
Peruse this letter, know you your own hand.  
'twas well that I reserved, your hand a witness  
Against your tongue, you had best deny the jointure,  
Of the three hundred pounds made to my daughter,  
'tis that I know you aim at, but your seal.   Old Chart. 

Shall not make me approve it, I deny  
This Seal for mine, nor do I vouch that hand,  
Your daughter and the dower, letter and all  
I quite disclaim, sir Harry you much wrong me.   Sir Harry. 

I can bear more than this, heap wrong on  
wrong, and I'll support it all, I for this time  
Will cast my spleen behind me, and yet hear me,  
This letter your son Chartly as from you,  
Delivered me. I like the motion well.   Old Chart. 

My spleen is further thrown aside then yours.  
And I am full as patient, and yet hear me;  
My son's contracted to another maid,  
Nay I am patient still, yet that I writ  
This letter sealed, this impress I deny.   Sir Harry. 
Why then the jack your hand did counterfeit.  Old Chart. 
Why then he did so, where's that unthrift speak?  Sir Harry. 

Some hour ago, he mounted and rid post.  
To give you visit whom he said lay sick  
Upon your deathbed.   Old Chart. 

You amaze me sir.  
It is an ill presage, hereon I see.  
Your former salutation took its ground:  
To see me safe recovered of my sickness.   Sir Harry. 

Indeed it did, your welcome is a subject.  
I cannot use too oft, welcome again,  
I am sorry you this night must sup alone:  
For I am elsewhere called about some business,  
Concerning what I know not, hours run on.  
I must to Hogsden, high time I were gone.   Exit. Old Chart. 

Perhaps to the wise-woman's, she may tell me.  
The fortunes of my son, this accident,  
Hath bred in me suspicion, and strange fears.  
I will not sup alone, but I protest,  
'mongst some this night. I'll play the intruding guest.   Exit with his serving-men. Enter the wise-woman, Sencer, Luce and her Father, 2. Luce. Wisew. 
But will sir Harry come.  Sencer. 
Presume he will, and Chartly too.  Father. 
I'll have the knave by the ears.  Luce. 
Nay patience sir, leave your revenge to me.  Enter M. Boyster. Boyster. 
Granam I am come according to promise.  Wisew. 
And welcome to the best hole that I have in Hogsden.  Boyster. 
Good even.  Luce. 

Thanks sir, a good even may it prove,  
That each may reap the fruits of their own Love:   2. Luce. 
That shall be my prayer too.  Boyster. 
Come what shall's do.  Wisew. 

Withdraw, I'll place you all in several rooms.  
Where sit, see, but say nothing.   Exeunt. Enter Taber ushering Gratiana. Taber. 

Here sweet Mistress, I know the place well ever  
Since I was here to know my fortune.   Gratiana. 
Call me some half an hour hence.  Exit. Enter the wise-woman and 2. Luce. Wisew. 
Your Ladyship is most lovingly welcome. A low stool for the Gentlewoman boy: I made bold to send to you to take view of such a piece of work, as I presume you have seldom seen the like.  Gratia. 
of whose doing, I pray.  Wisew. 
A friend of yours and mine. Please you withdraw I'll bring you to't.  2. Luce. 
Mistress.  Wisew. 

One calls sweet Lady, I shall do you wrong,  
But pray you think my little stay not long:   Enter Sencer, sir Harry and Luce. Sencer. 
Here sir in this retiring Chamber.  Sir Harry. 

Gramercy friend, how now; what's here to do  
A pretty wench and a close chamber too.   Luce. 

That you have so much graced my Mother's house,  
With your desired presence worthy Knight.  
Receive a poor maids' thanks, who's there? a chair  
And cushion for fir Harry.   Sir Harry. 
Thanks most fair.  Luce. 

Please you but a few minutes here to stay:  
Till my return, I'll not be long away.   Sencer. 
The gentlewoman will wait on you by and by sir.  Sir Harry. 

And I'll attend her friend,  
Of all those doubts I long to know the end:   Enter 2. Luce and old Chartly. 2. Luce. 
The Knight you seek was here, or will be straight, and if you be the man you name yourself. You are most welcome, and you shall not back, sill you have scene sir Harry.  Old Chart. 
Gentle youth.  
I saw him enter here, and under privilege of his acquaintance made I bold to stay.  2 Luce. 
And you are welcome sir, sir down I pray.  Sencer. 

Now they are placed in several rooms, that look  
Into this one. Were Chartly come we had all our company.   Senser. 
Hark, there's one knocks 'tis Chartly on my life.  Luce. 

One of you let him in whilst I prepare me  
To entertain his coming.   Enter young Chartly. Usher in by Sencer. Chartly. 

What? old acquaintance Luce. Not a word?  
Yet some lip labour if thou lovest me.   Gratiana. 
My Husband?  Sir Harry. 
What young Chartly?  Old Chart. 
How? My son.  Chartly. 
Come, come away with this wailing in woe, if thou putst finger in the eye a little longer, I shall plunge in pain too presently.  Luce. 
O husband, husband.  Anne. 
Husband?  Chartly. 
What sayst thou my sweet wife,  Chartley. 
Wife? O my heart.  2. Luce. 
In that name wife I claim a poor child's part.  Luce. 
O husband; How have you used me?  Chart. 

Nay how do I mean to use thee: But as a man  
Should use his wife.   Boyst. 
I hope he doth not mean to use her so.  2. Luce. 
I hope so too,  Chart. 
My granam is a Witch.  CHart. 
Nay Luce, sweet wife leave weeping if thou lov'st me,  Luce. 
O can you blame me, knowing that the fountain of all these Springs took their first head, from you, you know, you too will know, not three days since are past, since we were married.  Gratiana. 
Married, I can endure no longer.  Sir Harry. 
It cannot be.  Old Chart. 
It is not possible.  Boyster. 
I'll be even with thee, for this old granam.  Luce. 

And though we wanted witness upon earth,  
Yet Heaven bears record of our Nuptial tie,   Chart. 

Tush, when we, meet in heaven let's talk of that.  
Nay come you ass, you fool, what's past is past,  
Though man and wife, yet I must marry now.  
Another gallant, here's thy letter Luce.  
And this night I intend to lodge with thee.   2. Luce. 
I'll scratch her eyes out first, although I love her.  Chartly. 

prithee be merry?  
I have made a gull of Grace, and old sir Harry thinks me  
a great way off, I told the Knight,  
My father lay a dying, took post-horse,  
Rid out of Holburn, turned by Islington,  
So, hither wench to lodge all night with thee.   2. Luce. 
here's one saith nay to that,  Old Chart. 
Was that your journey:  Chartly. 
Why I have too much of Grace already.  Boyster. 
Thou hast no grace at all.  Chartly. 

Nay let's to bed, if thou couldst but imagine how  
I love thee Luce.   Luce. 
How is it possible you can love me, and go about to marry another.  Chartly. 
Dost thou not know she's rich? Why you fool as soon as I have got her dower, it is but giving her a dram, or a pill to purge melancholy to make her turn up her heels, and then withal that wealth, come I to live with thee my sweet rascal.  Gratiana. 
she thanks you, and is much beholding to you.  Chartly. 
I am betrayed.  Gratiana. 

Art thou my suitor? wouldst thou marry mee,  
And thy first wife alive, then poison me,  
To purchase my poor dowry.   Chartly. 
What shall I say, or think, or do, I am at a Nonplus.  Gratiana. 

Hast thou the face, thou brazen impudence,  
To look upon me past grace.   Chart. 

Thou canst not properly call me past grace, for  
I never enjoyed thee yet: I cannot tell, whether  
I blush or no, but I have now at this time,  
More Grace, than I can tell what to do with.   Gratiana. 
Who drew thee to this folly?  Chartly. 
Who but the old dotard thy Father, who when I was honestly married to a civil maid, he persuaded me to leave her, I was loath at first but after entreating, urging, and offering me large proffers, I must confess I was seduced to come a-wooing to thee.  Grace. 
My father, villain.  Chart. 
ay thy father Grace. And were he here I would justify it to the old dotard's face.  Sir Harry. 

vild boy thou dar'st not be so impudent.  
When did I meet thee, seek or sue to thee:  
When? Name the day, the month, the hour, the year.   Chartly. 
Plots, plots. I can but cry you mercy both, Say that I have done you wrong, I can be but sorry for it, but indeed to clear you, and lay the fault where it ought to be. All this comes from mine own father in the country, who hearing I had married with Luce. Sends me word of. his blessing to be divorced from her, and to come a suitor to your daughter, I think you have his hand and seal to show.  Old Chart. 
My hand and seal, when was that letter writ.  Chart. 
Heyda, if you get one word more of me tonight, but scurvy looks, I'll give you leave to hang me.  Sir Harry. 
Vild boy,  Old Chart. 
Ungracious villain.  Gratiana. 
Treacherous youth?  Sir Harry. 
No grace at all?  Chart. 
No grace.  Chart. 

This is bad company who hath reduced thee?  
Speak on my blessing, who hath thus misled thee?  
But no more lies I charge thee.   Chart. 
Bad company hath been the shame of me, I was as virtuously given as any youth in Europe, till I fell into one Boyster's company, 'tis he that hath done all the harm upon me.  Boyster. 
I.  Chart. 
And if he should deny it?  Boyster. 
What then you'd cry him mercy.  Chart. 
I had best bite out my tongue, and speak no more what shall I do, or what shall I say, there is no outfacing them all Gentlemen, Fathers, wives, or what else. I have wronged you all. I confess it that I have, what would you more, will any of you rail of me? Ill bear it, will any of you beat me? So they strike not too hard I'll suffer it, will any of you challenge me? I'll answer it. What would you have me say, or do? One of these I have married, the other I have betrothed, yet both maids for me; Will you have me take one, and leave the other? I will, will you have me keep them both? I will.  Father. 
Perjured not mine.  Chart. 
What you here too? Nay then I see all my good friends are met together, wilt thou have me Luce? I am thy Husband, and had I not loved thee better than Grace. I had not disappointed the marriage day tomorrow.  Luce. 
Lascivious no,  Chartly. 
Wilt thou have me Grace, for had I not loved thee better than Luce. I would never after I had married her been contracted to thee.  Grace. 
Inconstant no,  Chart. 
Then neither married man, widow nor bachelor, what's to be done? here's even the proverb verified, between too stools, the tail goes to ground.  Sir Harry. 
Now I bethink me this our meeting here is wondrous strange, call in the Gentlewoman that owns this house.  Enter Sencer and the wise-woman, He like a gentleman. Boyster. 
Old trot, I'll trounce thee.  
Here is the marriage proved 'twixt Luce and Chartly, witch this was not your promise.  Wisew. 
Have patience, and in the end we'll pay you all. Your worships are most heartily welcome, I made bold to send for you, and you may see to what end, which was to discover unto you, the wild vagaries of this, of this wanton wag pasty, a will-doats I warrant him, and sir Harry that your daughter hath scaped this scouring, thank this gentleman, and then make of him as he deserves.  Sir Harry. 
O, I remember him.  Grace. 

He never pleased mine eye so well as now.  
I know his Love, and he in Chartley's place  
My favour shall possess.   Sencer. 
Thanks my sweet Grace.  Sir Har. 
ay and the more the inconstant youth to spite.  Sencer, 
I gave her thee in Chartley's sight.  Chart. 
There's one gone already, but this is my wife and her I'll keep in spite both of the Devil and his dam.  Wisew. 
Not from her lawful Husband.  Chart. 
That am I.  Wisew. 
That is the Gentleman, accept him Luce.  
And you then like of her, nay I'll make it good,  
This gentleman married you vizarded, you him disguised mistaking him for Chartly, which none but my boy jack was privy too: after she changed her habit with him, as you with jack.  
And you in mistress Luce's habit.  Luce. 
May I believe you mother.  Wisew. 
This be your token.  Boyst. 
Her that I married, I wrong twice by the finger.  Luce. 
Of that token, my hand was sensible.  Boyst. 

And ere the clamorous and loud noise be gone,  
I whispered to her thus.   Luce. 
You are the man,  Boyster. 
Thanks granam, what thou promised thou hast done.  Father. 
And leaving him, I take you for my son.  Chart. 
Two gone, then where's the third, this makes me mad, where is my wife then, for a wife I had.  Wisew. 

Not see thy wife. Come hither jack my boy.  
Nay take him to thee, and with him all joy.   Old Chart. 

Well art thou served to be a general scorn,  
To all thy blood: and if not for our sakes,  
For thy soul's health and credit of the world,  
Have some regarded to me, to me thy father.   Chartly. 

Enough sir: if I should say I would become  
A new man; You would not take my word.  
If I should swear. I would amend my life,  
You would not take mine oath, if I should bind myself, to become an honest man you would scarce take my bond.   Old Chart. 
I should do none of these.  Chartly. 
Then see sir, when to all your judgements I see me past grace, do lay hold of Grace, and here begin to retire myself, this woman hath lent me a glass, in which I see all my imperfections, at which my conscience doth more blush inwardly, than my face outwardly, and now I dare confidently undertake for myself I am honest.  2. Luce. 
Then I dare confidently undertake to help you to a wife who desires to have an honest man or none, look on me well, simple though I stand here I am your wife, blush not at your folly man, perhaps I have more in me, than you expect from me.  Chartly. 
Knavery and riot both which, are now to me mean forage.  2. Luce. 
You and I have been better acquainted and yet search me not too far lest you shame me, look on me well, nay better, better yet, I'll assure you I left of a petticoat when I put on these breeches,  
What say you now, she scatters her hair.  Chart. 
First love, and best beloved?  2. Luce. 
Let me be both or neither.  Wisew. 
My boy turned girl I hope she'll keep my counsel from henceforth, I'll never entertain any servant but I'll have her searched.  Old Chart. 

Her love hath drawn her hither after him.  
My loving daughter welcome thou hast run,  
A happy course to see my son thus changed.   Chartly. 
Father, call me once again your son, and sir Harry me your friend: Sencer an hand, and mistress Grace an heart, in honourable love. Where I have wronged you Luce forgive. Impute my errors to my youth not me, with Grace I interchange, an embrace with you Luce, a parting buss I wish you all joy, divide my part amongst you, thou my soul.  
Nay mother midnight there's some love for you.  
Out of thy folly, being reputed wise,  
we, self conceited have our folly's found:  
Bear thou the name of all these comic acts.  Luce. 

Luce and Grace, (O covetous man) I see,  
I sought to engross what now sufficeth three.  
Yet each one wife, enough, one Nuptial Feast:  
Shall serve three Bridals where, be thou chief guest.   Exeunt omnes.  
Explicat Actus 5us.    

TO HIS CHOSEN FRIEND, the learned Author Mr Thomas Heywood.  
THou wants no Herald to divulge thy fame;  
It needs no Apology; Only thy name;  
Into judicious Readers, doth infuse;  
A will: to add a Laurel to thy muse;  
Was now Maecenas living. How would he  
Support thy learned wit? Whose industry  
Hath purchased such a knowing skill; That those  
Who read admire thee; less some Critic shows  
His Ignorance in seeking with new songs,  
To gain the honour; which to thee belongs.  
But let pale envy belch forth all her spite  
Thy Candid fame shalt still contain white  
Unspotted, pure, and fair, till memory,  
Be turned oblivion, or a Deity,  
Prove mortal; And when Atropos, shall do  
The fatal office, her belongs unto;  
Apollo will rebreath a life in thee,  
In length to equal all eternity  
Where in Elyzian joys he will so raise  
Thy worth where never wither shall the bays  
Wherewith he crown thee; So thy works will show.  
The Debt, I pay 's no more but what I owe.  SAMVEL KING. 
FINIS.