THE Dutch Courtesan.  
AS IT WAS PLAYED IN THE Blackfriars, by the Children of her majesties Revels.  
Written BY JOHN MARSTON.  
AT LONDON, ¶ Printed by T. P. for john hodget's, and are to be sold at his shop in Paul's Churchyard. 1605.   

Prologue.  
SLight hasty labours in this easy Play,  
Present not what you would, but what we may:  
For this vouchsafe to know the only end  
Of our now study is, not to offend.  
Yet think not, but like others rail we could,  
(Best art Presents, not what it can, but should)  
And if our pen in this seem over slight,  
We strive not to instruct, but to delight,  
As for some few, we know of purpose here  
to tax, and scout: know firm art cannot fear  
Vain rage: only the highest grace we pray  
Is, you'll not tax, until you judge our Play.  
Think and then speak: 'tis rashness, and not wit  
To speak what is in passion, and not judgement fit:  
Sit then, with fair expectance, and survey  
Nothing but passionate man in his slight play,  
Who hath this only ill: to some deemed worst,  
A modest diffidence, and self mistrust.  

Fabulae argumentum.  
THe difference betwixt the love of a Courtesan, & a wife, is the full scope of the Play, which intermixed with the deceits of a witty City jester, fills up the Comedy.    

Dramatis personae.  

Francischina A Dutch Courtesan,  
Mary Faugh An old woman.  


Two old Knights.  
Sir Lionell Freevill  
Sir Hubert Subboys    
Young Freevill Sir Lion: Son.  


Sir Hubert's Daughters.  
Beatrice  
Crispinella    
Putifer Their Nurse.  
Tysefew A blunt Gallant.  
Caqueteur A prating Gull.  
Malheureux Young Freevil's unhappy friend.  
Cocledemoy A knavishly witty City companion.  
Master Mulligrub A Vintner.  
Mistress Mulligrub His wife.  
Master Burnish A Goldsmith.  
Lionell His man.  
Holofernes Rainscure A barber's boy.  
Three Watchmen    

THE Dutch Courtesan. 
Turpe est difficiles habere nugas   

Actus primi,  

Scena prima.  Enter 3: Pages with lights, Malligrubb, Freevile, Malhoureus, Tisifen. & Caqueteur. Freeuile. 
NAy comfort my good host Shark, my good, Mulligrubb.  Mal. 
Advance thy snout, do not suffer thy sorrowful nose to drop on thy spanish leather jerkin, most hardly honest Mulligrub.  Free. 
What, cogging Cocledemoy is run away with a nest of goblets, true, what then? they will be hammered out well enough, I warrant you.  Mull. 
Sure, some wise man would find them out presently.  Free. 
Yes sure, if we could find out some wise man presently.  Mal. 
How was the plate lost? how did it vanish?  Free. 
In most sincere prose thus: that man of much money, some wit, but less honesty, cogging Cocledemoy, comes this night late into mine hosts Mulligrubs Tavern here, calls for a room, the house being full, Cocledemoy consorted with his movable chattel, his instrument of fornication, the bawdy Mrs.  Mary Faugh, 
are emparlour next the street good poultry was their food, black bird, Lark, woodcock, and mine host here, comes in, cries God bless you, and departs: A blind Harper enters, craves audience, uncaseth, plays, the Drawer for female privateness' sake is nodded out, who knowing that whosoever will hit the mark of profit, must like those that shoot in stone-bows wink with one eye, grows blind o' the right side and departs.  Caque. 
He shall answer for that winking with one eye at the last day.  Mal. 
Let him have day till then, and he will wink with both his eyes.  Free. 
Cocledemoy perceiving none in the room but the blind Harper, (whose eyes heaven had shut up, from beholding wickedness,) unclasps a casement to the street very patiently, pockets up 5. bowls unnaturally, thrusts his wench forth the window, and himself most preposterously with his heels forward follows, the unseeing Harper plays on, bids the empty dishes and the treacherous candles much good do them. The Drawer returns, but out alas, not only the, but also the beast of goblets were flown away, Laments are raised.  Tysep. 
Which did not pierce the heavens.  Free. 
The Drawers moan, mine host doth cry, the bowls are gone.  Mul. 
Hic finis Priami.  Mal. 
Nay, be not jaw fallen, my most sharking Mulligrub.  Free. 
'tis your just affliction remember the sins of the fellar, and repent, repent.  Mull. 
I am not jaw-fallen, but I will hang the contracting Cocledemoy, and there's an end of't. Exit.  Cac. 
Is it a right stone, it shows well by candlelight.  Free. 
So do many things that are counterfeit, but I assure you this is a right Diamond.  Cac. 
Might I borrow it of you, it will not a little grave my finger in visitation of my Mistress.  Free. 
Why use it most sweet Cuqueture, use it.  Caca. 
Thanks good Sir, t's grown high night: Gentles, rest to you. Exit.  Tys. 
A torch, found wench, soft sleep, and sanguine dreams to you both on boy.  Free. 
Let me bid you good rest.  Mal: 
Not so trust me, I must bring my friend home: I dare not give you up to your own company, I fear the warmth of wine and youth, will draw you to some Common house of lascivious entertainment.  Free: 
Most necessary buildings Malheureus ever since my intention of Marriage, I do pray for their continuance.  Mal: 
Loved Sir, your reason?  Free: 
Marry least my house should be made one: I would have married men love the stews, as Englishmen loved the low countries: wish war should be maintained there, lest it should come home to their own doors: what, suffer a man to have a hole to put his head in, though he go to the Pillory for it: Youth and Appetite are above the Club of Hercules.  Mal. 
This lust is a most deadly sin sure.  Free. 
Nay, 'tis a most lively sin sure.  Mal: 
Well I am sure, 'tis one of the head sins.  Free: 
Nay, I am sure it is one of the middle sins.  Mal: 
pity, 'tis grown a most daily vice.  Free 
But a more nightly vice ,I assure you.  Mal 
Well, 'tis a sin.  Free. 
ay, or else few men would wish to go to Heaven :& not to disguise with my friend, I am now giving the way of all flesh.  Mal. 
Not to a Courtesan.  Free. 
A courteous one.  Mal: 
What to a Sinner?  Free 
A real Publican.  Mal 
Dear my loved friend, let me be free with you,  
Know Sir, the strongest argument that speaks  
Against the soul's eternity is lust.  
The Wiseman's folly, and the fool's wisdom  
But to grow wild in loose lasciviousness,  
Given up to heat, and sensual Appetite:  
Nay to expose your health and strength and name,  
Your precious time, and with that time the hope  
Of due preferment advantageous means,  
Of any worthy end to the stale use,  
The common bosom Of a money Creature,  
One that sells human flesh ,Mangonist,  Free: 
Alas good creatures, what would you have them do? would you have them get their living by the curse of man, the sweat of their brows? so they do, every man must follow his trade, and every woman her occupation: a poor decayed mechanical man's wife, her husband is laid up, may not she lawfully be laid down, when her husbands only rising, is by his wife's falling? a captains wife wants means, her Commander lies in open field abroad, may not she lie in civil arms at home. A weighting Gentlewoman that had wont to take say to her Lady, miscarries, or so: the Court misfortune throws her down, may not the City courtesy take her up: do you know no Alderman would pity such a woman's case: why is charity grown a fin? or relieving the poor and impotent an offence? You will say beasts take no money for their fleshly entertainment: true, because they are beasts, therefore beastly, only men give to lose, because they are men, therefore manly: and indeed, wherein should they bestow their money better? In Land, the title may be cracked: In Houses, they may be burnt: In apparel, will wear: In wine, alas for pity our throat is but short: But employ your money upon women, and a thousand to nothing, some one of them will bestow that on you, which shall stick by you as long as you live; they are no ingrateful persons, they with give quite for quo: do ye protest, they'll sweat, do you they they'll fall do you fall, they'll rise, do you give them, the french Crown, they'll give you the french; O justus justa, justum They sell their bodies: do not better persons sell their souls? nay, since all things have been sold, honour, justice, aim: my, even God himself, ay me, what base ignobleness is it to sell the pleasure of a wanton bed.  
Why do men scrape, why heap to full heaps join.  
But for his Mistress, who would care for coin,  
For this I hold to be denied of no man,  
All things are made for man, and man for woman, give me my fee.  Mal: 
Of ill you merit well: my hearts good friend, Leave yet at length, at length, for know this ever 'tis no such sin to err, but to persever.  Free: 
Beauty is woman's virtue, love the life's Music: and woman the daintiness or second course of heavens curious workmanship, since then beauty love and woman are good, how can the love of woman's beauty be bad and, Bonum quo communius to melius; wilt then go with me?  Mal: 
Whether?  Free: 
To a house of salvation.  Mal: 
Salvation?  Free: 
Yes 'twill make thee repent. will't go to the family of love? I will show thee my creature: a pretty nimble eye Dutch Tanakin; An honest soft hearted impropriation, a soft plump, round cheek fro, that has beauty enough, for her virtue, virtue enough for a woman, and woman enough for any reasonable man in my knowledge: will't pass along with me?  Mal: 
What to a Brothel, to behold an impudent prostitution, fie on't shall hate the whole sex to see her: the most odious spectacle the earth can present, is an modest vulgar woman.  Free: 
Good still: my brain shall keep't: you must go as you love me.  Mal: 
Well: I'll go to make her loathe the shame she's in, The sight of vice augments the hate of sin  Free: 
The sight of vice augments the hate of sin, very fine pardie.  Exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Cocledemoy and Mary Faugh. Coclo: 
Mary, Mary Faugh.  Marc 
Hem.  Cocle: 
Come my worshipful Rotten rough-bellied bawd, ha my blue toothed patrons of natural wickedness, give me the goblets.  Mar: 
By yea, and by nay, master Cocledemoy I fear you're play the knave and restore them.  Cocle: 
No by the Lord Aunt, Restitution is Catholic and thou know'st we love.  Mar. 
What?  Cocle: 
Oracles are seized: Tempus preteritum, dost hear my worshipful clysterpipe, thou ungodly fire that burned Diana's Temple, dost hear Bawd,  Mar: 
In very good truthness you are the foulest mouthed profane railing Brother, call a woman the most ungodly names: I must confess we all eat of the forbidden fruit, and for mine own part though I am one of the family of love and as they say a bawd that covers the multitude of sins, yet I trust I am none of the wicked that eat fish a Fridaies.  Cocle: 
Hang toasts, I rail at thee my worshipful organ bellows that fills the pipes, my fine rattling phlegmy cough o' the lungs and cold with a Pox, I rail at thee what my right precious panderess supporters of barber Surgeons and enchanters of lotium and diet drink: I rail at thee necessary damnation, I'll make an oration, ay, in praise of thy most courtly in fashion, and most pleasurable function. I.  Mar: 
I prithee do, I love to hear myself praised, as well as any old Lady, I.  Cocle: 
List then, a Band, first for her profession or vocation it it is most worshipful of all the 12. Companies, for as that trade it most honourable that sells the best commodities, as the Draper is more worshipful than the pointmaker, the silkman more worshipful than the Draper, and the Goldsmith more honourable than both, Little Mary: so, that Baud above all, her shop has the best ware, for where these fell but cloth satins, and jewels, she sells divine virtues as virginity, modesty and such rare Gems, and those not like a petty chapman, by retail, but like a great merchant by whole sale, wa, ha, ho, and who are her customers, not base corn cutters, or sowgelders, but most rare wealthy Knights, and most rare bountiful lords are her customers again, where as no trade or vocation profiteth, but by the loss and displeasure of another, as the Merchant thrives none but by the licentiousness of giddy, and unsettled youth: the Lawyer, but by (the vexation of his client, the Physician, but by the maladies of his patient, only my smooth gummed Bawd hues by others' pleasure, and only grows rich by other rising. O merciful gain, O righteous income. So much for her vocation, trade and life, as for their death, how can it be bad, since their wickedness is always before their eyes, and a deaths head most commonly on their middle finger. To conclude, t's most certain they must needs both live well, and do well, since most commonly they live in Clerkenwell, and die in Bridewell Dixi Mary.  Enter Freevile and Malhereux. Free. 
Come along, yonder's the preface or exordium to my wench, the bawd: Fetch, fetch. What M. Cocledemoy, is your knaveship yet stirring, look to it, Mulligrub lies for you.  Enter Cocledemoy. Cocl. 
The more fool he, I can lie for myself, worshipful friend, hang toasts, I vanish. Ha my fine boy thou art a scholar, and hast read Tully's Offices, my fine knave, hang toasts.  Free. 
The Vintner will toast you and he catch you.  Cocl. 
I will draw the Vintner to the stoop, and when he runs low tilt him, he my fine knave, art going to thy recreation.  Free. 
Yes my capticeous rascal.  Cocl. 
Thou wilt look like a fool then by and by.  Free 
Look like a fool why?  Cocl. 
Why according to the old saying, A beggar when he is lousing of himself looks like a Philosopher, a hard bound Philosopher, when he is on the stool, looks like a tyrant, and a wise man, when he is in his belly act, looks like a fool, God give your worship good rest, grace and mercy keep your syringe straight, and your Lotium unspile.  Enter Franchiscina. Free: 
See, Sir this is she.  Mal. 
This?  Free. 
This.  Mal. 
A Courtesan? Now cold blood defend me, what a proportion afflicts me?  Fran. 
O mine aderliuer love, vat sall me do to requite dis your must affection.  Free. 
Marry salute my friend, clip his neck, and kiss him welcome.  Fran. 
A mine art, Sir you been very velcome.  Free. 
Kiss her man with a more familiar affection, so, come what entertainment, go to your Lute. Exit Fran.  
And how dost approve my sometimes elected? fees none of your ramping Cannibals, that devour man's flesh, nor any of your curtain gulfs, that will never be satisfied, until the best thing a man has be thrown into them. I loved her with my heart, until my soul showed me the imperfection of my body, and placed my affection on a lawful love, my modest Beatrice, which if this short heels knew, there were no being for me with eyes before her face. But faith, dost thou not some what excuse my sometimes incontinency with her enforcive beauties. Speak.  Ma. 
Hah, she is a whore, is she not?  Free. 
Whore? fie whore? you may call her a Courtesan, a Cockatrice, or (as that worthy spirit of an eternal happiness said) a Suppository, but whore? fie: 'tis not in fashion to call things by their right names, is a great merchant, a cuckold, you must say, he is one of the livery, is a great Lord, a fool, you must say he is weak, is a gallant pocky, you must say, he has the court scab, come she's your mistress or so: Enter Francischina with her Lute .Come Siren your voice.  Fran. 
Vill not you stay in mine bosom tonight love?  Free. 
By no means sweet breast, this Gentleman has vowed to see me chastened laid.  Fran. 
He shall have a bed too, if dat it please him.  Free. 
Peace you tender him offence, he is one of a professed abstinence, Siren your voice and away.  She sings to her Lute. 

The Song.  
The dark is my delight,  
So 'tis the Nightingales.  
My music's in the night,  
So is the Nightingales.  
My body is but little,  
So is the Nightingales.  
I love to sleep 'gainst prickle.  
So doth the Nightingale.   
Thanks, Buss, so the night grows old good rest.  Fran. 
Rest to mine dear love, rest, and no long absence.  Free. 
Believe me not long.  Fran. 
Sall Ick not believe you long. Exit Fracischina.  Fre. 
O yes, come viah, away, boy, on. Exit his Page lighting him  Enter Frevill and seems to overhear Malheureus. Mal. 
Is she unchaste, can such a one be damned?  
O love and beauty, ye two eldest seeds  
Of the vast Chaos, what strong right you have,  
Even in things divine, our very souls.  Free. 
Wha, ha, ho, come bird come, stand peace.  Mal. 
Are strumpets then such things, so delicate,  
Can custom spoil, what nature made so good.  
Or is their Custom bad? beauty's for use,  
I never saw a sweet face vicious,  
It might be proud, inconstant, wanton, nice,  
But never tainted with unnatural vice.  
Their worst is, their best art is love to win,  
O that to love should be or shame, or sin;  Free: 
By the Lord he's caught, Laughter eternal?  Mal: 
Soul I must love her destiny is weak to my affection.  
A common love, blush not faint breast  
That which is ever loved of most is best  
Let colder-eld the strongest objections move,  
No love's without some lust, no life without some love.  Eree: 
Nay come on good sir, what though the most odious spectacle the world can present be an immodest vulgar woman: Yet sir for my sake.  Mal: 
Well sir for your sake I'll think better of them.  Free: 
Do good sir and pardon me that have brought you in You know the sight of vice augments the hate of sin.  Mal: 
Hah? will you go home sir 'tis high bed time.  Free: 
With all my heart sir only do not chide me I must confess.  Mal: 
A wanton lover you have been.  Free: 
O that to love should be or shame, or sin.  Mal: 
Say ye?  Free. 
Let colder eld the strongest objections move.  Mal: 
how's this?  Free: 
No love's without some lust,  
No life without some love,  
go your ways for an Apostata, I believe my cast garment must be let out in the seams for you when all is done, 
"Of all the fools that would all man out-thrust,  
" He that 'gainst Nature would seem wise is worst.   Exeunt.  
Finis Actus Primi.   

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.  Enter Freeuile, pages with torches, and gentlemen with music. Free: 
The morn is yet but young: here gentlemen,  
This is my Beatrice window, this the chamber  
Of my betrothed dearest, whose chaste eyes,  
Full of loved sweetness, and clear cheerfulness,  
Have gauged my soul to her in joyings,  
Shredding away all those weak under-branches,  
Of base affections, and unfruitful heats,  
Here bestow your music to my voice. Cantat.  Enter Beatrice above. 
Always a virtuous name to my chaste love,  Bea: 
Loved sir the honour of your wish return to you,  
I cannot with a mistress complement  
Forced discourses, or nice art of wit,  
Give entertain to your dear wished presence,  
But safely thus, what hearty gratefulness,  
Unsullen Silence, unaffected modesty,  
And an unignorant shamefastness can express,  
Receive as your protested due. Faith my heart,  
I am your servant,  
O let not my secure simplicity, breed your mislike,  
As one quite void of skill,  
'tis Grace enough in us not to be ill,  
I can some good, and faith I mean no hurt,  
Do not then sweet wrong sober ignorance,  
I judge you all of virtue, and our vows,  
Should kill all fears that base distrust can move,  
my soul what say you, still you love?  Free: 
Still? my vow is up above me, & like time  
Irrevocable. I am sworn all yours,  
No beauty shall untwine our arms, no face  
In my eyes can or shall seem fair,  
And would to God only to me you might  
Seem only fair; let others disesteem  
Your matchless graces: so might I safer seem,  
Envy I covet not: far, far be all ostent  
Vain boasts of beauties: soft joys and the rest,  
"He that is wise, pants, on a private breast,  
So could I live in desert most unknown,  
yourself to me enough were Populous,  
Your eyes shall be my joys, my wine that still  
Shall drown my often cares, your only voice  
Shall cast a slumber on my listening sense,  
You with soft lip shall only ope mine eyes,  
And suck their lids asunder, only you  
Shall make me wish to live, & not fear death,  
So on your cheeks I might yield latest breath,  
O he that thus may live, and thus shall die,  
May well be envied of a deity.  Beat: 
Dear my loved heart be not so passionate, nothing extreme lives long.  Free: 
"But not to be extreme, nothing in love's extreme my love receives no mean.  Beat: 
I give you faith, and pray thee since poor foul I am so easy to believe thee, make it much more pity to deceive me, wear this sleight favour in my remembrance. throweth down a ring to him.  Free: 
Which when I part from, hope the best of life, ever part from me.  Beat: 
I take you and your word, which may ever live your servant, see day is quite broke up, the best of hours.  Free: 
Good morrow graceful mistress, our nuptial day holds.  Beat: 
With happy constancy a wished day. Exit.  Enter Malhoureus. Free: 
myself and all content rest with you.  Mal: 
The studious morn with paler cheek draws on,  
The days bold light, hark how the freeborn birds  
Carol their unaffected passions, The nightingales sing.  
Now sing they sonnets, thus they cry, we love  
O breath of heaven! thus they harmless souls  
Give entertain to mutual affects.  
They have no Bawds: no mercenary beds  
No politic restraints: no artificial heats  
No faint dissemblings, no custom makes them blush,  
No shame afflicts their name, O you happy beasts  
In whom an inborn heat is not held sin,  
How far transcend you wretched, wretched man  
Whom national custom, Tyrannous respects  
Of slavish order, fetters: lame his power  
Calling that sin in us, which in all things else  
Is nature's highest virtue. (O miseri quorum gaud a crimen haben:  
Sure nature against virtue cross doth fall  
Or virtues self is oft unnatural,  
That I should love a strumpet I a man of Snow  
Now shame forsake me whether am I fallen!  
A creature of a public use, my friends love to  
To live to be a talk to men, a shame  
To my professed virtue. "O accursed reason,  
" How many eyes hast thou to see thy shame▪  
"And yet how blind once to prevent defame?  Free. 
Diaboli vertus in Lumbis est, morrow my friend; come, I could make a tedious scene of this now but, what, pab, thou art in love with a Courtesan, why sir, should we loathe all strumpet assume men should hate their own mothers or sisters, a sin against kind I can tell you.  Mal: 
May it beseem wise man to be in love?  Free: 
Let wise men alone, 'twill beseem thee and me well enough.  Mal: 
Shall I not offend the vow band of our friendship?  Free: 
What to affect that which friend affected by heaven I resign her freely, the creature and I most grow of, by this time she has assure'ly heard of my resolved marriage, and no question swears, God's Sacrament, ten thousand Devils I'll resign i'faith.  Mal: 
I would but embrace her, hear her speak, and at the most but kiss her.  Free: 
O friend he that could live with the smoke of roast meat might live at a cheap rate.  Mal: 
I shall near prove heartily received,  
A kind of flat ungracious modesty,  
An insufficient dullness stains my haviour.  Free. 
No matter sir, insufficiency and sottishness are much commendable in a most discommendable action, now could I swallow thee, thou hadst wont to be so harsh and cold i'll tell thee. Hell and the prodigies of angry love are not so fearful to a thinking mind as a man without affection, why friend, Philosophy & a nature are all one, love, is the centre in which all lines close the common bond of being.  Mal: 
O but a chaste reserved privateness, a modest continence,  Free: 
He tell thee what, take this as firmest sense,  
"In Continence will force a Continence,  
" Heat wasteth heat, light defaceth light,  
"Nothing is spoiled but by his proper might,  
This is some thing too weighty for thy floor.  Mal. 
But howsoe'er you shade it, the world's eye  
Shines not and open out,  
Lying, malice, envy, are held but fidyngs.  
Errors of rage, when custom and the world  
Calls lust a crime spotted with blackest terror..  Free. 
Where errors are held Crimes, Crimes are but errors  
Along sir to her she is an arrant strumpet: & a strumpet is.  
A Sarpego: Venom de Gonory to man. (Offer to go out & suddenly draws back.  
Things actually possessed: yet since thou art in love  
And again as good make use of a Statue,  
A body without a soul, a carcase three months dead,  
Yet since thou art in love.  Mal. 
Death man, my destiny I cannot choose.  Free. 
Nay I hope so, again they fell but only flesh,  
No jot affection, so that even in the enjoying,  
Absentem marmore amque putes, yet since you needs must love,  Mal. 
Unavoidable though folly, worse than madness.  Free, 
Its true, but since you needs most love, you must know this,  
He that must love, a fool, and he must kiss,  Enter Cocledemoy. M. 
Cocledemoy vt vales Domine.  Cocl. 
Ago tibi gratias, my worshipful friend, how does your friend?  Free. 
Out you rascal.  Cocle. 
Hang toasts, you are an Ass, much a your worship's brain lies in your Calves, bread a God boy, I was at supper last night with a new weaned bulchin, bread a God drunk, horribly drunk, horribly drunk, there was a wench one Frank Frailty, a punk, an honest polecat, of a clean In step, found leg, smooth thigh, and the nimble Devil in her buttock, all fy a grace, when saw you Tysefew, or M. Caqueteur, that prattling gallant of a good draft common customs, fortunate, impudence and sound fare.  Free. 
A way Rogue.  Cocl, 
Hang toasts, my fine boy, my companion as worshipful.  Mal. 
Yes I hear you are taken up with scholars and churchmen. Enter Holifernes the barber.  Cocle. 
Qùanquam to Marce fili my fine boy, does your worship want a Barber Surgeon.  Free. 
Farewell knave, beware the Mulligrubs.  Exeunt Freevill and Mat. Cocle. 
Let the Malligrubs beware the knave, what a barber Surgeon, my delicate boy?  Holof. 
Yes sir an apprentice to surgery.  
Ti, s my fine boy, to what bawdy house doth your Master belong, what's thy name?  Holof. 
Holofernes Rainscure.  Cocle. 
Rainscure? good M. Holofernes I desire your further acquaintance, nay pray ye be covered my fine boy, kill thy itch and heal thy scabs, is thy Master rotten?  Holif. 
My father forsooth is dead.  Cocle. 
And laid in his grave, alas what comfort shall Peggy then have.  Hol. 
None but me sir, that's my mother's son I assure you.  Cocl. 
Mother's son, a good witty boy, would live to read an Homily well, and to whom are you going now?  Hol. 
Marry forsooth to trim M. Mulligrub the Vintner.  Cocl. 
Do you know M. Mulligrub?  Hol. 
My Godfather Sir.  Cocl. 
Good boy hold up thy chops, I pray thee do one thing for me, my name is Gudgeon.  Hol. 
good M. Gudgeon.  Cocl. 
Lend me thy basin, razor, and Apron.  Hol. 
O Lord sir.  Cocl. 
Well spoken, good english, but what's thy furniture worth?  Hol. 
O Lord sir I know not.  Cocl. 
Well spoken, a boy of a good wit, hold this pawn, where dost dwell.  Hol. 
At the sign of the three r sir,  Cocl 
A sign of good shaving my carastrophonical fine boy, I have an odd jest to trim M. Mulligrub for a wager, a jest boy, a humour, I'll return thy things presently, hold.  Hol. 
What mean you good M. Gudgeon?  Cocl. 
Nothing faith but a jest boy, drink that, I'll recoil presently.  Hol. 
You'll not stay long.  Cocl. 
As I am an honest man, the 3. razers?  Hol. 
ay sir. Exit Holifernes.  Cocl. 
Good, and if I shave not M. Mulligrub, my wit has no edge, and I may go cack in my pewter, let me see, a barber, my scurule tongue will discover me, must dissemble, must disguise, for my beard, my false hair, for my tongue Spanish Dutch, or Welsh, no, a Northern barber, very good, widow Raine-soure's man well, newly entertained, right, to, hang toasts, all cards have white backs, and all knaves would seem to have white breaster, so proceed, now worshipful Cocledemoy.  Exit Cocledemoy in his barbers furniture. Enter Marry Eough, and Francischina with her Harye, Loose chafing. Mary. 
Nay good sweet daughter, do not swagger so, you hear your love is to be married, true, he does cast you off, right he will leave you to the world, what then? though blue and white, black and green leave you, may not red and yellow entertain you, is there but one colour in the Rainbow?  Francis. 
Grand Grincome on your sentences, God's sacrament, ten thousand devils take you, you ha' brought mine love, mine honour, mine body all to noting.  Mary Fough. 
To nothing! I'll be sworn I have brought them to all the things I could, I ha' made as much a your maidenhead, and you had been mine own daughter, I could not ha' sold your Maiden head oftener than I ha' done, I ha' sworn for you God forgive me, I have made you acquainted with the Spaniard Don Skirtoll, with the Italian, M. Beieroane, with the Irish Lord, S. Patrick, with the Dutch Merchant, Haunce Herkin Ginkin Skellam Flapdragon, and specially with the greatest French, and now lastly with this English (yet in my conscience) an honest Gentleman: and am I now grown one of the accursed with you for my labour? is this my reward, am I called Bawd? Well Mary Fough, go thy ways Mary Fough, thy kind heart will bring thee to the Hospital.  Francisc. 
Nay good Naunt, you'll help me to another love, vil you not?  Mar. 
Out thou naughty belly, wouldst thou make me thy Bawd? thou'st best make me thy Bawd, I ha' kept counsel for thee, who paid the Apothecary, was't not honest Mary Fough? who redeemed thy petticoat and mantle, was't not honest Mary Fough? who helped thee to thy custom not of swaggering Ireland Captains, nor of 2. s. Inns a court men, but with honest atte-caps, wealthy flatcaps, that pay for their pleasure the best of any men in Europe, nay, which is more in London, and dost thou defile me vile creature.  Francis. 
Foutra 'pon you Vitch, Bawd, Polecat, Paugh, did not you praise Freevill to mine love?  Fough. 
I did praise I confess, I did praise him, I seed he was a fool, an unthrift, a true whoremaster, I confess, a constant drab keeper I confess, but what the wind is turned.  Erancis. 
It is, it is vile woman, reprobate woman, naughty woman it is, vat shall become of mine poor flesh now, mine body must turn Turk for 2. d. O Diuela, life o' mine art, Ick sall be revenged, do ten thousand Hell dam me, Ick shall have the rouge troth cut, and his love, and his friend, and all his affinity sall smart, sall die, shall hang, now legion of devil seize him, de gran pest, S. Anthony's fire, and de hot Neopolitan pox rot him.  Enter Freevil and Malheureus. Freeuil. 
Francischina.  Fran. 
O mine feet, dearest, kindest, mine loving, O mine thousand, ten thousand, delicated, petty seet art Cantat Gallice .a mine a dear liefest affection.  Free. 
Why Monkey, no fashion in you? give entertain to my friend.  Franc. 
Icke shall make de most of you, dat courtesy may: Aunt Mary, Mettre Faugh, stools, stools for des gallants: mine Mettre sing non oder song, frolic, frolic Sir, but still complain me do her wrong, lighten your heart Sir, for me did but kiss her, for me did but kiss her, and so let go: Your friend is very heavy, ick sall near like such sad company.  Free. 
No thou delightest only in light Company.  Fran: 
By mine trot, he been very sad, vat ail you sir.  Mal. 
A tooth ache Lady, a paltry rheum.  Fran. 
De diet is very goot for de rheum.  Free: 
How far off dwells the house surgeon Mary Fough.  Mar. 
You are a profane fellow i'faith, I little thought to hear such ungodly terms come from your lips.  Fran. 
Pray de now, 'tis but a toy, a very trifle.  Free 
I care not for the value, Frank, but i'faith-  Fran. 
I fait, me must needs have it (dis is Beatrice ring, oh could I get it,) seet pree now, as ever you have embraced me with a hearty arm, a warm thought, or a pleasing touch, as ever you will profess to love me, as ever you do wish me life, give me dis ring, dis little ring.  Free. 
pray be not uncivilly importunate, sha' not ha''t, faith I care not for thee, nor thy jealousy, sha' not ha''t i'faith.  Francis: 
You do not love me, I hear of Sir Hubert Subboys daughter Mistress Beatrice, God's Sacrament, ick could scratch out her eyes, and suck the holes.  Free: 
Go you're grown a punk rampant.  Francis. 
So get thee gone, near more behold mine eyes by thee made wretched.  Free: 
Mary Fough farewell, farewell Frank.  Franck. 
Sall I not ha' de ring?  Free: 
No by the Lord.  Franck: 
By te Lord?  Free: 
By the Lord.  Frank. 
Go to your new Blouze, your unproud sluttery, your modest Mettre forsooth.  Free: 
Marry will I forsooth.  Franck: 
Will you marry forsooth?  Free: 
Do not turn witch before thy time.  
With all my heart Sir, you will stay.  Mal. 
I am no whit myself, Video meliora proboque,  
But raging lust my fate all strong doth move:  
"The Gods themselves cannot be wise and love.  Free: 
Your wishes to you. Exit Freevil:  Mal: 
Beauty entirely choice:  Fran: 
Pray ye prove a man of fashion, and neglect the neglected.  Mal. 
Can such a rarity be neglected, can there be measure or sin in loving such a creature:  Fran. 
O mine poor forsaken heart.  Mal: 
I can not contain, he saw thee not that left thee,  
If there be wisdom, reason, honour, grace  
Of any foolishly esteemed virtue,  
In giving o'er possession of such beauty,  
Let me be vicious, so I may be loved,  
Passion I am thy slave, sweet it shall be my grace,  
That I account thy love, my only virtue:  
Shall I swear I am thy most vowed servant.  Fran. 
Mine vowed, go, go, go, I can no more of love, no, no, no, you been all unconstant, O unfaithful men, tyrants, betrayers, de very enjoying us, loseth us, and when you only ha' made us hateful, you only hate us: O mine forsaken heart.  Mal. 
I must not rave, Silence and modesty two customary virtues: will you be my mistress?  Franc. 
Mettres? ha, ha, ha.  Mal. 
Will you lie with me?  Franc. 
Lie with you, O no, you men will outlie any woman, fait me no more can love.  Mal. 
No matter, let me enjoy your bed.  Franc, 
O vile man, vat do you tinck on me, do you take me to be a beast, a creature that for sense only will entertain love, and not only for love, love? O brutish abomination!  Mal. 
Why then I pray thee love, and with thy love enjoy me.  Franc. 
Give me reason to affect you, will you swear you love me.  Mal. 
So seriously, that I protest no office so dangerous, no deed so unreasonable, no cost so heavy, but I vow to the utmost tentation of my best being to effect it.  Franc. 
Sall I, or can I trust again? O fool,  
How natural 'tis for us to be abused!  
Sall ick be sure that no satiety,  
No enjoying, not time shall languish your affection?  Mal. 
If there be aught in brain, heart or hand,  
Can make you doubtless, I am your vowed servant.  Franc. 
Will you do one ting for me?  Mal. 
Can I do it?  Eranc. 
Yes, yes, but ick do not love dis same Freevill.  Mal. 
Well.  Eranc. 
Nay I do hate him.  Mal. 
So.  Eranc. 
By this kiss I hate him.  Mal. 
I love to feel such oaths, swear again.  Franc. 
No, no, did you ever hear of any that loud at the first sight?  Mal. 
A thing most proper.  Fran. 
Now fair, I judge it all incredible, until this hour I saw you pretty fair eyed youth, would you enjoy me?  Mal. 
Rather than my breath, even as my being.  Franc. 
Vel, had ick not made a vow.  Mal. 
What vow?  Franck. 
O let me forget it, it makes us both despair.  Mal. 
Dear soul what vow?  Franck: 
Hah, good morrow gentle Sir, endeavour to forget me, as I must be enforced to forget all men. Sweet mind rest in you.  Mal: 
Stay, let not my desire burst me, O my impatient heat endures no resistance, no protraction, there is no being for me but your sudden enjoying.  Franc. 
I do not love Freevil.  Mal: 
But what vow, what vow?  Franc. 
So long as Freevil lives, I must not love.  Mal. 
Then he.  Franc. 
Must.  Mal. 
Die.  Fran. 
ay, no there is no such vehemence in your affects,  
Would I were any thing, so he were not.  Mal. 
Will you be mine when he is not?  Franc 
Will I? dear, dear breast, by this most zealous kiss, but I will not persuade you: but if you hate him that I loathe most deadly, yet as you please, i'll persuade noting.  Mal: 
Will you be only mine.  Fran: 
Vill I? how hard 'tis for true love to dissemble, I am only yours.  Mal: 
'tis as irrevocable as breath, he dies. Your love.  Fran: 
My vow, not until he be dead,  
Which that I may be sure not to infringe,  
Dis token of his death, sall satisfy,  
He has a ring, as dear as the air to him,  
His new loves gift: tat got and brought to me.  
I shall assured your possessed rest.  Mal. 
To kill a man?  Fran. 
O done safely, a quarrel sudden picked,  
with an advantage strike, than bribe, a little coin,  
all's safe, dear soul, but I'll not set you on,  Mal. 
Nay he is gone, the ring, well, come, little more liberal of thy love.  Fran. 
Not yet my vow.  Mal. 
O heaven, there is no hell but loves prolongings, dear farewell.  Franc. 
Farewell, Now does my heart swell high, for my revenge,  
Has birth and form, first friend shall kill his friend,  
He dat survives, i'll hang, besides 'd  
Chaste Beatrice I'll vex: only de ring.  
Dat got the world sall know the worst of evils.  
"Woman corrupted is the work of devils. Exit Fran.  Mal. 
To kill my friend! O 'tis to kill myself,  
Yet man's but man's excrement, man breeding man,  
As he does worms or this, to spoil this nothing, he sits.  
The body of a man is of the self same soul,  
As Ox or horse, no murder to kill these,  
As for that only part, which makes us man,  
Murder wants power to touch't: O wit how vile,  
How hellish art thou, when thou affect nature  
'gainst sacred faith! think more to kill a friend  
To gain a woman, to lose a virtuous self,  
For appetite and sensual end, whose very having,  
Loseth all appetite, and gives satiety,  
That corporal end, remorse and inward blushings,  
Forcing us loathe the steam of our own heats,  
Whilst friendship closed in virtue being spiritual,  
Tastes no such languishes and moment's pleasure,  
With much repentance, but like rivers flow,  
And further that they run, they bigger grow,  
Lord how was I misgone, how easy t's to err,  
When passion will not give us leave to think?  
"A learned that is an honest man may fear.  
" And lust, and rage, and malice, and any thing,  
"when he is taken uncollected suddenly:  
" 'Tis sin of cold blood; mischief will waked eyes,  
"That is the damned and the truly vice,  
" Not he that's passionless but he 'bove passion's wise,  
My friend shall know it all. Exit:  Enter Master Mulligrub, and Mistress Mulligrub, she with bag of money. Mistress Mul. 
It is right I assure you, just fifteen pounds.  Mul. 
Well Cocledemoy 'tis thou putst me to this charge, but and I catch thee, I'll charge thee with as many irons: well, is the barber come, i'll be trimmed and then to Cheapside, to buy a fair piece of plate, to furnish the loss, is the barber come?  Mrs.: Mul: 
Truth husband, surely heaven is not pleased with our vocation; we do wink at the sins of our people, our wines are Protestants, and I speak it to my grief, and to the burden of my conscience, we fry our fish with salt butter. Exit.  Mul. 
Go look to your business, mend the matter and score false with a vengeance.  Enter Cocledemoy like a barber. 
Welcome friend, whose man?  Cocle: 
Widow Rain sours man, and shall please your good worship, my name's Andrew Shark.  M. Mul: 
How does my God son good Andrew.  Cocle: 
Very well, he's gone to trim M. Quicquid our Parson, hold up your head.  Mul: 
How long have you been a barber Andrew?  Cocle: 
Not long Sir, this two year.  Mul. 
What and a good work man already, I dare scarce trust my head to thee.  Cocle: 
O fear not, we ha' polled better men than you, we learn the trade very quickly, will your good worship be shaven or cut?  Mul: 
As you will, what trade didst live by, before thou turnedst Barbar Andrew.  Cocle: 
I was a peddler in Germany, but my countrymen thrive better by this trade.  Mul: 
Wha's the news Barbar, thou art sometimes at Court.  Cocle: 
Sometimes pole a Page or so sir.  Mull. 
And what's the news? how do all my good Lords, and all my good Ladies, and all the rest of my acquaintance.  Cocle: 
What an arrogant knave's this, I'll acquaintance ye ('tis cash,) say ye sir. he spieth the bag  Mul: 
And what news? what news? good Andrew.  Cocle: 
Marry sir you know the Conduit at Greenwich, and the under-holes that spouts up water.  Mul: 
Very well, I was washed there one day, and so was my wife, you might have wrung her smock i'faith, but what a those holes?  Cocle: 
Thus Sir, out of those little holes in the midst of the night crawled out 24. huge horrible, monstrous, fearful devouring.  Mul: 
Bless us.  Cocle: 
Serpents, which no sooner were beheld, but they turned to mastiffs which howled, those mastiffs instantly turned to Cocks which crowed, those cocks in a moment were changed to Bears which roared, which Bears are at this hour to be yet scene in Paris Garden, living upon nothing but toasted cheese and green onions.  Mul: 
By the Lord and this may be: my wife and I will go see them, this portends something.  Cocle: 
Yes worshipful fy, thou'dst feel what portends by and by.  Mul: 
And what more news, you shave the world, especially you barber Surgeons you know the ground of many things, you are cunning privy searchers, by the mass you scour all: what more news?  Cocle: 
They say Sir that 25, couple of Spanish jennetes are to be seen hand in hand dance the old measures, whilst fix goodly Flanders Mares play to them on a noise of flutes.  Mul. 
O monstrous! this is a lie o' my word, nay and this be not a lie, I am no fool I warrant, nay make an Ass of me once?  Cocle: 
Shut your eyes close, wink sure sir, this ball will make you smart.  Mul. 
I do wink.  Cocle. 
Your head will take cold.  Cocledemoy puts on a Coxe comb on Mulligrubs head. 
I will put on your good worship's nightcap, whilst I shave you, so, much: hang toasts: faugh: viah: sparrows must peck and Cocledemoy munch.  Mul. 
Ha, ha, ha, 25. couple of Spanish jennets to dance the old measures. Andrew, makes my worship laugh, i'faith, dost take me for an Ass Andrew, dost know one Cocledemoy in town, he made me an Ass last night, but i'll ass him, art thou free Andrew, shave me well, I shall be one of the common Council shortly, and then Andrew, why Andrew, Andrew, dost leave me in the Suds? Cantat .why Andrew I shall be blind with winking. Ha Andrew, wife Andrew, what means this, wife, my money wife.  Enter Mistress Mulligrubbe. Mistress Mul. 
What's the noise with you? what ail you?  M. Mul. 
Where's the barber?  Mrs. Mul. 
Gone, I saw him depart long sin, why are not you trimmed?  M. Mul. 
Trimmed, O wife, I am shaved, did you take hence the money?  Mrs. Mul. 
I touched it not as I am Religious.  M. Mul. 
O Lord I have wink fair.  Enter Holofernes. Holof: 
I pray Godfather give me your blessing.  M. Mul. 
O Holofernes, O where's thy mother's Andrew?  Holof: 
Blessing Godfather.  M. Mul. 
The devil choke thee, where's Andrew thy mother's man?  Holof: 
My mother hath none such forsooth.  Mul: 
My money, 15. l. plague of all Andrew's, who wast trimmed me?  Holof: 
I know not Godfather, only one met me, as I was coming to you, and borrowed my furniture, as he said for a jest's sake.  M. Mul. 
What kind of fellow?  Holof. 
A thick elderly stub-bearded fellow.  M. Mul. 
Cocledemoy, Cocledemoy, raise all the Wise men in the street, I'll hang him with mine own hands O wife, some Rosa Solis.  Mrs. Mul 
Good husband take comfort in the Lord, I'll play the Devil, but i'll recover it, have a good conscience t's but a weeks cutting in the Term.  M. Mul: 
O wife, O wife, O Jack how does thy mother? is there any Fiddlers in the house?  Mrs. Mul. 
Yes, M. Creaks noise.  M Mul. 
Bid 'em play, laugh, make merry, cast up my accounts, for i'll go hang myself presently, I will not curse, but a pox on Cocledemoy, he has polled and shaved thee, he has trimmed me. Exeunt.  
Finis Actus Secundi.   

Actus tertius. Scena prima.  Enter Beatrice, Crispinell, and Nurse Putifer. Puti. 
Nay good child, A love once more, M. Freevil's Sonnet, o' the kiss you gave him.  Beatr. 
shalt good Nurse,  
Purest lips soft banks of blisses,  
Self alone, deserving kisses,  
O give me leave to etc.  Crisp. 
Pish sister Beatrice, pree read no more, my stomach o'late stands against kissing extremely.  Beat. 
Why good Crispinella?  Crisp: 
By the faith, and trust I bear to my face, 'tis grown one of the most unsavoury Ceremonies: Body, a beauty 'tis one of the most unpleasing injurious customs to ladies: any fellow that has but one nose on his face, and standing collar and skirts also lived with Tastery sarsenet, must salute us on the lips as familiarly: Soft skins save yet here was a stub-bearded john a style with a ployden's face saluted me last day, and stroke his bristles through my lips, I ha' spent 10. shillings in pomatum find to skin them again. Marry if a nobleman or a knight with one lock visit us though his unclean goose turned green teeth, hath palsy his nostrils smell worse than a putrefied marrowbone, & his loose beard drops into our bosom, yet we must kiss him with a curtsy, a curse, for my part I had as live they would break wind in my lips.  Beat: 
Fie Crispinella you speak too broad.  Crispi: 
No lot sister, let's near be ashamed to speak what we be not ashamed to think, I dare as boldly speak venery, as think venery.  Beat. 
Faith sister i'll begone if you speak so broad.  Crisp: 
Will you so? now bashfulness seize you, we pronounce boldly Robbery, Murder, treason, which deeds must needs be far more loathsome than an act which is so natural, just and necessary, as that of procreation, you shall have an hypocritical vestal virgin speak, that with close teeth publicly, which she will receive with open mouth privately, for my own part I consider nature without apparel, without disguising of custom or complement, I give thoughts words, and words truth, and truth boldness, she whose honest freeness makes it her virtue, to speak what she thinks, will make it her necessity to think what is good, I love no prohibited things, and yet I would have nothing prohibited by policy but by virtue, for as in the fashion of time, those books that are called in, are most in sale and request; so in nature those actions that are most prohibited, are most desired.  Beat: 
Good quick-sister, stay your pace we are private, but the world would censure you, for truly severe modesty is women's virtue.  Crisp: 
Fie, Fie, virtue is a free pleasant buxom quality: I love a constant countenance well, but this froward ignorant coins, four austere lumpish uncivil privateness, that promises nothing but rough skins, and hard stools, ha, fie out good for nothing but for nothing, well nurse, and what do you conceive of all this?  Put. 
Nay faith my conceiving days be done, marry for kissing i'll defend that, that's within my compass, but for my own part here's mistress Beatrice is to be married with the grace of God, a fine gentleman he is shall have her and I warrant a strong, he has a leg like a post, a nose like a Lion, a brow like a Bull, and a beard of most fair expectation: this week you must marry him, and I now will read a lecture to you both, how you shall behave yourselves to your husbands, the first month of your nuptial, I ha' broke my skull about it, I can tell you and there is much brain in it.  Crisp: 
Read it to my sister good nurse, for I assure you i'll near marry.  Put: 
Marry God forfend, what will you do then?  Crisp: 
Faith strive against the flesh, marry? no faith, husbands are like lots in the lottery: you may draw forty blanks before you find one that has any prize in him, A husband generally is a careless domineering thing that grows like coral which as long as it is under water is soft and tender, but as soon as it has got his branch above the waves is presently hard stiff, not to be bowed but burst, so when your husband is a suitor & under your choice, Lord how supple he is, how obsequious, how at your service sweet Lady: once married got up his head above A stiff crooked knobby inflexible tyrannous creature he grows then they turn like water, more you would embrace the less you hold, i'll live my own woman, and if the worst come to the worst, I had rather prove a wag then a fool.  Beat: 
O but a virtuous marriage.  Crisp: 
Virtuous marriage? there is no more affinity betwixt virtue and marriage, then betwixt a man and his horse, indeed virtue gerts up upon marriage sometimes, and manageth it in the right way, but marriage is of another piece, for as a horse may be without a man, and a man without a horse, so marriage you know is often without virtue, and virtue I am sure more oft without marriage, but thy match sister, by my troth I think 'twill do well, he's a well shaped clean lipped gentleman of a handsome, but not affected fineness, a good faithful eye, and a well humoured cheek, would he did not stoop in the shoulders for thy sake, see here he is. (Enter Freevill & Tissefew.)  Free: 
Good day Sweet.  Crisp: 
Good morrow brother nay you shall have my lip, good morrow servant.  Tisse: 
Good morrow sweet life.  Crisp: 
Life? dost call thy mistress life.  Tisse 
Life, yes why not life?  Crisp. 
How many mistresses hast thou?  Tisse: 
Some nine.  Crisp. 
Why then thou hast nine lives like a Cat.  Tisse. 
Mew you would be taken up for that.  Crisp: 
Nay good let me still sit, we low statures love still to sit, lest when we stand we may be supposed to sit.  Tisse: 
Dost not wear high cork shoes: chopines.  Crisp: 
Monstrous on's. I am as many other are, pieced above and pieced beneath.  Tisse: 
Still the best part in thee,  Crisp: 
And yet all will scarce make me so high as one of the giants stilts that stalks before my Lord majors pageant.  Tisse: 
By the Lord so I thought 'twas for some thing Mistress joice jested at thy high insteps.  Crisp: 
She might well enough, and long enough, before I would be ashamed of my shortness, what I made or can mend myself I may blush at; but what nature put upon me, let her be ashamed for me, I ha' nothing to do with it, I forget my beauty.  Tisse: 
Faith joice is a foolish bitter creature.  Crisp: 
A pretty mildewed wench she is.  Tisse: 
And fair.  Crisp: 
As myself.  Tisse: 
O you forget your beauty now.  Crisp, 
Troth I never remember my beauty, but as some men do religion for controversies sake,  Beat 
A motion sister.  Crisp, 
Niniveh, julius Ceasar, jonas, or the destruction of jerusalem.  Beat, 
My love here.  Crisp. 
pray call him not love, 'tis the drabs phrase, nor sweet honey, nor my coney, nor dear duckling, 'tis the Citizen terms, but call me him.  Beat. 
What?  Crisp. 
anything, whatest the motion?  Beat: 
You know this night our parents have intended solemnly to contract us, and my Love to grace the feast hath promised a mask.  Free. 
You'll make one Tysefue, and Caqueture shall fill up a room.  Tisse 
Fore heaven well remembered he borrowed a diamond of me last night to grace his finger in your visitation: The Lying Creature will swear some strange thing on it now.  Enter Caqueteur. Crisp: 
Peace, he's here, stand close, lurk.  Caqu: 
Good morrow most dear, and worthy to be most wise, how does my mistress?  Crisp: 
Morrow sweet servant, you glister, pree let's see that stone.  Caqu: 
A toy Lady, I bought to please my finger.  Crisp. 
Why I am more precious to you, than your finger:  Caqu: 
Yes, or than all my body, I swear.  Crisp. 
Why, then let it be bought to please me, come I am no professed beggar.  Caqu: 
Troth Mistress; zounds: Forsooth, I protest.  Crisp: 
Nay, if you turn Protestant for such a toy.  Caqu: 
In good deed la, another time i'll give you a  Crisp: 
Is this yours to give.  Caque: 
O God, forsooth mine, quoth you, nay as for that.  Crisp: 
Now I remember, I ha' seen this on my servant Tissefeu's finger.  Caqu: 
Such another.  Crisp. 
Nay, I am sure this is it.  Caqu: 
Troth 'tis forsooth, the poor fellow wanted money to pay for supper last night, and so pawned it to me, 'tis a pawn faith, or else you should have it.  Tise: 
Hark ye, Thou base lying: how dares thy impudence hope to prosper, were't not for the privilege of this respected company, I would so hang thee.  Crisp: 
Come hither servant, What's the matter betwixt you two?  Caqu●▪ 
Nothing but (hark you) he did me some uncivil discourtesies last night, for which, because I should not call him to account, he desires to make me any satisfaction: the Coward trembles at my very presence, but I ha' him on the hip, i'll take the forfeit on his Ring.  Tise: 
What's that you whisper to her?  Caqu 
Nothing Sir, but satisfy her, that the Ring was not pawned, but only lent by you to grace my finger, and so told her I craved your pardon, for being too familiar, or indeed overbold with your reputation.  Crisp. 
Yes indeed he did, he said you desired to make him any satisfaction for an uncivil discourtesy you did him last night, but he said he had you o' the hip and would take the forfeit of your ring.  Tise. 
How now ye base Poltroon?  Caque. 
Hold, hold, my mistress speaks by contraries.  Tise. 
Contraries.  Caque. 
She jests, faith only jests.  Crisp. 
Sir, I'll no more a your service, you are a child, I'll give you to my nurse.  Put. 
And he come to me, I can tell you as old as I am, what to do with him.  Caque. 
I offer my service forsooth.  Tise. 
Why so, now every dog has his bone to gnaw on.  Free. 
The Mask holds, Master Caqueteur.  Caca. 
I am ready Sir, Mistress I'll dance with you, near fear, I'll grace you.  Put. 
I tell you I can my singles and my doubles and my trick a xxtie, my carantapace, my traverse forward, and my falling back yet i'faith.  Beat. 
Mine, the provision for the night is ours.  
Much must be our care, till night we leave you,  
I am your servant be not tyrannous,  
Your virtue won me, faith my love's not lust,  
Good wrong me not, my most fault is much trust.  Free. 
Until night only my heart be with you. Farewell sister.  Crisp. 
Adieu brother, come on sister for these sweet meats.  Fre. 
Let's meet and practise presently.  Tise. 
Content, we'll but fit our pumps, Come ye pernicious vermin. Exeunt.  Enter Malheverus. Free. 
My friend, wished hours, what news from Babylon? How does the woman of Sin, and natural concupiscence?  Mal. 
The eldest child of nature near beholded So damned a creature.  Free. 
What, In nova fert animus mutatas dicere formas? which way bears the Tide?  Mal. 
Dear loved Sir, I find a mind courageously vicious, may put on a desperate security, but can never be blessed with a firm enjoying and self satisfaction.  Free. 
what passion is this, my dear Lindabridis.  Mal. 
'tis well, we both may jest, I ha' been tempted to your death.  Free. 
What is the rampant Cockatrice grown mad for the loss of her men?  Mal. 
Devilishly mad.  Free. 
As most assured of my second love.  Mal. 
Right.  Free. 
She would have had this ring.  Mal. 
ay, and this heart, and in true proof you were slain I should bring her this ring, from which she was assured  
You would not part, until from life you parted.  
For which deed, and only for which deed, I should possess her sweetness.  Free. 
O bloody villains, nothing is defamed but by his proper self, Physicians abuse remedies, Lawyers spoil the Law, and women only shame women, you ha' vowed my death?  Mal. 
My lust, not I, before my reason would, yet I must use lust, that I a man of sense should conceive endless pleasure in a body whose soul I know to be so hideously black.  Free. 
That a man at twenty three should cry, O sweet pleasure, and at forty three should sigh, O sharp Pox: but consider man furnished with omnipotency and you overthrow him, thou must cool thy impatient appetite.  
'Tis Fate, t's Fate.  Mal. 
I do malign my creation that I am subject to passion, I must enjoy her.  Free. 
I have it mark, I give a mask tonight  
To my loves kindred, in that thou shalt go:  
In that we two make show of falling out,  
Give seeming challenge, instantly depart,  
With some suspicion to present fight.  
We will be seen as going to our sword,  
And after meeting, this Ring only lent,  
I'll lurk in some obscure place, till rumor  
(The common Bawd to loose suspicions)  
Have feigned me slain, which (in respect myself  
Will not be found, and our late seeming quarrel)  
Will quickly sound to all as earnest truth:  
Then to thy wench, protest me surely dead.  
Show her this Ring, enjoy her, and blood cold  
we'll laugh at folly.  Mal. 
O but think of it.  Fre: 
Think of it, come away, virtue let sleep thy passions, "What old times held as crimes, are now but fashions. Exeunt  Enter Master Garnish, and Lionell: Master Mulligrubbe, with a standing cup in his hand, and an Obligation in the other, Cocledemoy stands at the other door disguised like a French peddler, and overhears them. Mul: 
I am not at this time furnished, but there's my bond for your Plate.  Gar: 
Your bill had been sufficient you're a good man, a standing cup parcel guilt, of 32. ounces. 11. pound, 7. shillings, the first of july, good plate, good man, good day good all.  Mul: 
'tis my hard fortune, I will hang the knave, no, first he shall half rot in fetters in the Dungeon, his conscience made despairful, i'll hire a Knave a purpose, shall assure him he is damned, and after see him with mine own eyes, hanged without singing any Psalm. Lord that he has but one neck.  Gar: 
You are too tyrannous, you'll use me no further.  Mul: 
No Sir, lend me your servant, only to carry the plate home, I have occasion of an hours absence.  Gar: 
With easy consent, sir haste and be careful, Exit Gar.  Mul: 
Be very careful I pray thee to my wife's own hands.  Lion: 
Secure yourself sir.  Mull: 
To her own hand.  Lion: 
Fear not, I have delivered greater things than this, to a woman's own hand.  Cocl. 
monsieur, please you to buy a fine delicate ball, sweet ball; a camphor ball.  Mu: 
Pre thee away.  Co: 
One a ball to scour, a scouring ball, a ball to be shaved  Mull: 
For the love of god talk not of shaving, I have been shaved, mischief and 1000. devils cease him, I have been shaved. Exit Mullig:  Co: 
The Fox grows fat when he is cursed, i'll shave ye smother yet, turd on a tile stone, my lips have a kind of rheum at this bowl, I'll have't, I'll gargalize my throat with this Vintner, and when I have done with him, spit him out, I'll shark, conscience does not repine, were I to bite an honest gentleman a poor grogaran poet, or a penurious Parson, that had but ten pigs tails in a twelvemonth & for want of learning had but one good stool in a fortnight, I were dammed beyond the works of supererogation, but to wring the whythers of my gouty barmd spigot frigging-jumbler of elements. Mulligrub, I hold it as lawful as sheep-shearing, taking eggs from hens, caudles from Asses, or buttered shrimps from horses, they make no use of them, were not provided for them. And therefore worshipful Cocledemoy, hang toasts, on, in grace and virtue to proceed, only beware beware degrees, there be rounds in a ladder, and knots in a halter, ware carts, hang toasts, the common counsel has decreed it, I must draw a lot for the great Goblet. Exit.  Enter Mistress Mulligrub, and Lionell with a Goblet. Mul: 
Nay, I pray you stay and drink, and how does your Mistress, I know her very well, I have been inward with her, and so has many more, she was ever a good patient creature i'faith, with all my heart i'll remember your master an honest man, he knew me before I was married, an honest man he is, and a crafty, he comes forward in the world well, I warrant him, and his wife is a proper woman that she is, well, she has been as proper a woman as any in Cheap, she paints now, and yet she keeps her husbands old Customers to him still. Introth a fine faced wife, in a wainscot carved seat, is a worthy ornament to a Tradesman shop, and an attractive I warrant, her husband shall find it in the custom of his ware, I'll assure him, God be with you good youth, I acknowledge the receipt. Exit Lion .I acknowledge all the recent sure, 'tis very well spoken, I acknowledge the receipt, thus 'tis to have good education and to be brought up in a Tavern, I do keep as gallant and as good company, though I say it, as any she in London, squires, Gentlemen, and knights diet at my table, and I do lend some of them money, and full many fine men go upon my score, as simple as I stand here, and I trust them and truly they very knightly and courtly promise fair, give me very good words, and a piece of flesh when time of year serves, nay, though my husband be a Citizen and's caps made of wool, yet I ha' wit, and can see my good assoon as another, for I have all the thanks, my silly husband, a lass, he knows nothing of it, 'tis I that bear, 'tis I that must bear a brain for all.  Cocl. 
Fair hour to you Mistress.  Mrs. Mu: 
Fair hour, fine term, faith i'll score it up anon a beautiful thought to you sir.  Cocl: 
Your Husband, and my Master Mr. Garnish has sent you a jole of fresh Salmon, and they both will come to dinner to season your new cup with the best wine, which cup your husband entreats you to send back by me, that his arms may be graved o' the side, which he forgot before it was sent.  Mr. Mul 
By what token, are you sent by no token? nay, I have wit.  Cocl. 
He sent me by the same token, that he was dry shaved this morning.  Mrs. Mu. 
A sad token, but true, here sir, I pray you commend me to your Master, but especially to your Mistress, tell them they shall be most sincerely welcome. Exit.  Cocl. 
Shall be most sincerely welcome, worshipful Cocledemoy, lurk close, hang toasts, be not ashamed of thy quality, every man's turd smells well in's own nose, vanish Foist. Exit.  Enter Mrs. Mulligrub, with servants and furniture for the Table. Mrs. Mul. 
Come spread these Table Diaper Napkins, and do you hear, perfume this Parlour does so smell of profane Tobacco, I could never endure this ungodly Tobacco, since one of our Elders, assured me upon his knowledge Tobacco was not used in the Congregation of the family of love: spread, spread handsomely, Lord these boys do things arsy-varsy, you show your bringing up, I was a Gentlewoman by my sister's side, I can tell ye so methodically: methodically, I wonder where it go that word O sir Amina dub Ruth had me kiss him methodically, I had it somewhere, and I had it indeed.  Enter Master Mulligrub. Mul: 
Mind, be not desperate, i'll recover all All things with me, shall seem honest, that can be profitable, He must near winch, that would or thrive, or save, To be called Niggard, cuckold, Cutthroat, Knave.  Mrs. 
Are they come husband?  Mul. 
Who? what, how now? what feast towards in my private Parlour.  Mrs. 
Pray leave your foolery, what are they come?  Mul: 
Come, who come?  Mrs. 
You need not make't so strange?  Mul: 
Strange?  Mrs. 
I strange, you know no man that sent me word, that he and his wife would come to dinner to me, and sent this jole of fresh Salmon before hand.  Mul: 
Peace, not I, peace, the Messenger hath mistaken the house, let's eat it up quickly, before it be inquired for sit to it, some vinegar, quick, some good luck yet faith, I never tasted salmon relished better, oh when a man feeds at other men's cost.  Mrs. 
Other men's cost? why did not you send this jole of Salmon.  Mul: 
No.  Mrs. 
By Master Garnish man?  Mul: 
No.  Mrs. 
Sending me word, that he and his wife would come to dinner to me.  Mul: 
No, no.  Mrs. 
To season my now bowl?  Mul. 
Bowl?  Mrs. 
And withal willed me to send the bowl back:  Mul: 
Back?  Mrs. 
That you might have your Arms graved on the side?  Mul: 
Ha?  Mrs. 
By the same token you were dry shaven this morning before you went forth.  Mul: 
Pah, how this salmon stinks.  Mrs. 
And thereupon sent the bowl back, prepared dinner, nay and I bore not a brain.  Mul: 
Wife, do not vex, me, is the bowl gone, is it delivered?  Mrs. 
Delivered! yes sure, 'tis delivered.  Mul: 
I will never more say my prayers, do not make me mad, 'tis common, let me not cry like a woman, is it gone?  Mrs: 
Gone? Good is my witness, I delivered it with no more intention to be cozened on't, than the child new borne: and yet  Mul: 
Look to my house, I am haunted with evil spirits, hear me, do; hear me, if I have not my Goblet again, heaven, I'll to the Devil, I'll to a conjuror, look to my house, I'll raise all the wise men i'th' street.  Mrs. 
Deliver us! what words are these, I trust in God, he is but drunk sure.  Enter Cocledemoy. Cocl. 
I must have the salmon to worship, Cocledemoy, now for the Master piece, God bless thy neck piece, and Fowtra. Fair Mistress my Master.  Mrs. 
Have I caught you, what Roger?  Co. 
Peace good Mistress, I'll tell you all, a lest, a very mere lest, your husband only took sport to fright you, the bowl's at my Masters, and there is your husband, who sent me in all haste, lest you should be over frighted with his feigning, to come to dinner to him.  Mrs. 
Praise Heaven, it is no worse.  Cocl. 
And desired me, to desire you to send the lose of salmon before, and yourself to come after to them, my Mistress would be right glad to see you.  Mrs. 
I pray carry it: now thank them entirely: bless me, I was never so out of my skin in my life, pray thank your Mistress most entirely.  Cocl. 
So now Figo worshipful Mall Pough, and I will monch Cheaters & Bawds go together like washing & wringing. Exit.  Mrs: 
Beshrew his heart for his labour, how every thing about about me quivers, what Christian my hat and apron, here take my sleeves, and how I tremose, so I'll gossope it now for't, that's certain, here has been revolutions, and false hers indeed.  Enter Mulligrub. Mul. 
Whether now? What's the matter with you now? whether are you a gadding?  Mestris. 
Come, come, play the fool no more: Will you go?  Mul. 
Whether, in the rank name of madness: whether?  Mist. 
Whether, why to master Garnish, to eat the jowl of Salmon? Lord, how strange you make it?  Mul. 
Why so, why so.  Mist. 
Why for why did not you send the self same fellow for the jole of Salmon, that had the cup?  Mul. 
'tis well, 'tis very well.  Mist. 
And will me to come and eat it with you at the goldsmiths.  Mul. 
hey, ay, ay, art in thy right wits?  Mist. 
Do you hear, make a fool of somebody else, and you make an ass of me, I'll make an Ox of you, do ye see.  Mul. 
Nay wife be patient, for look you, I may be mad, or drunk, or so, for my wise part, though you can bear more than I, yet I can do well: I will not cause nor carry, but heaven knows what I think. Come, let's go near some music, I will never more say my prayers. Let's go hear some doleful music. Nay if Heaven forget to prosper knaves. I'll go no more to the Synagogue. Now I am discontented, I'll turn Sectary that is fashion.  Exeunt. 
Finis Actis Tertius.   

Actus Quartus, Scena prima.  Enter Sir Hubert Subboyse, Sir Lyonell Frevile, Crispinella, servants with lights. Sir Hub. 
More lights: welcome Sir Lyonell Frevile, brother Frevile shortly. Look to your lights.  Servant. 
The Maskers are at hand.  Sir Lyo. 
Call down our daughter: Hark they are at hand, rank handsomely.  Enter the maskers, they dance. Enter Maheureus and take Beatrice from Frevile. They draw. Fre. 
Know sir, I have the advantage of the place.  
You are not safe, I would deal even with you.  Mal. 
So. They exchange gloves as pledges.  Fre. 
So.  Beat. 
I do beseech you sweet, do not for me provoke your Fortune.  Sir Ly. 
What sudden flaw is risen?  Sir Hub. 
From whence come this?  Fre. 
An ulcer long time lurking, now is burst.  Sir Hub. 
Good sir the time and your designs are soft.  Bea. 
I dear sir, council him, advise him, 'twill relish well From your carving: Good my sweetnest safe.  Fre. 
As well, als well, this shall be ended straight.  Sir Hub. 
The banquet stays, there we'll discourse more large,  Fre. 
Marriage must not make men Cowards.  Sir Ly. 
Nor rage fools.  Sir Hub. 
"'tis valour not where heat, but reason rules. Exit,  Only Tissefu and Crispen, stay Tis. 
But do you hear Lady, you proud ape you. What was the lest you broke of me even now?  Crisp. 
Nothing, I only said you were all mettle, that you had a brazen face, a Leaden brain, and a copper head.  Tys. 
Quicksilver, thou little more than a Dwarf, and something less than a Woman.  Cris. 
A Wisp, a wisp, a wisp, will you go to the banquet.  Tys. 
By the Lord I think thou wilt marry shortly too, thou growest somewhat foolish already.  Crisp. 
O i'faith, 'tis a fair thing to be married, and a necessary, To hear this word must, if our husbands be proud, we must bear his contempt, if noisome we must bear with the Goat under his armholes, if a fool we must bear his babble, and which is worse, If a loose liver, we must live upon unwholesome Reversions: Where, on the contrary side, our husbands because they may and we must; care not for us, things hoped with fear, and got with strugglings, are men's high pleasures, when duty pales and flatters their appetite.  Tys. 
What a tart Monkey is this, by heaven if thou hadst not so much wit I could find in my heart to my marry thee. Faith bear with me for all this.  Crisp. 
Bear with thee, I wonder how thy mother could bear thee ten months in her belly, when I cannot endure thee 2. hours in mine eye.  Tis. 
Alas for you sweet soul, by the Lord you are grown a proud, scurvy, apish, idle, disdainful, scoffing, God's foot, because you have read Ephues and his England, Palmerin de Oliva, & the Legend of Lies.  Crisp. 
Why i'faith yet servant, you of all others should bear with my known unmalicious humours, I have always in my Heart given you your due respect:  
And heaven may be sworn, I have privately given fair speech of you, and protested.  Tyss. 
Nay look you, for my own part, if I have not as religiously vowed my heart to you, been in drunk to your health, swallowed flapdragons, eat glasses, drunk urine, stabbed arms, and don all the offices of protested gallantry for your sake: and yet you tell me I have a brazen face, a leaden brain▪ and a copper beard, Come yet and it please you.  Cris. 
No, no, you do not love me?  Tis. 
By() but I do now, and whosoever dares say that I do not love you, nay honour you, and if you would vouchsafe to marry.  Crisp. 
Nay as for that think out as you will, but Gods my record, and my sister knows I have taken drink and slept upon't, that if ever I marry it shall be you, and I will marry, and yet I hope I do not say it shall be you neither.  Tys. 
By heaven I shallbe assoon worn of health as of your enjoying: will you cast a smooth cheek upon me?  Cris. 
I cannot tell, I have no crumped shoulders, my back needs no mantle, and yet marriage is honourable: do you think ye shall prove a Cuckold?  Tyss. 
No, by the Lord, not I?  Crisp. 
Why, I thank you i'faith:  
Heigho: I slept on my back this morning  
And dreamed the strangest dreams:  
Good Lord, how things will come to pass?  
Will you go to the banquet?  Tys. 
If you will be mine, you shall be your own, my purse, my body, my heart is yours, only be silent in my house, modest at my table, and wanton in my bed, and the Empress of Europe cannot content, and shall not be contented better.  Crisp. 
Can any kind heart speak more discreetly affectionately: my father's consent, and as for mine,  Tys. 
Then thus, and thus, so Hymen should begin, Sometimes a falling out, proves falling in. Exit.  Enter Frevile, speaking to some within, Malhereux at the other door. Fre. 
As you respect my virtue, give me leave  
To satisfy my reason, though not blood:  
So, all runs right, our feigned rage hath ta'en  
To fullest life, they are much possessed  
Of force most, most all quarrel: now my right friend  
Resolve me with open breast, free and true heart  
Cannot thy virtue having space to think  
and fortify her weakened powers with reason,  
Discourses, Meditations, Discipline.  
Divine ejaculatories, and all those aids against devils:  
Cannot all these curb thy low appetite  
and sensual fury?  Mal. 
"There is no God in blood, no reason in desire:  
Shall I but live? Shall I not be forced to act  
Some deed, whose very name is hideous?  Fre. 
No.  Mal. 
Then I must enjoy Francischina.  Fre. 
You shall: I'll lend this ring, show it to that fair Devil, It will resolve me dead, which rumor with my artificial absence, will make most firm, enjoy her suddenly.  Mal. 
But if report go strong that you are slain, and that by me. Whereon I may be seized Where shall I find your being.  Fre. 
At master shatewe's the jewellers, to whose breast I'll trust our secret purpose.  Mal. 
I rest yourself, each man hath follies.  Fre. 
But those worst of all,  
"Who with a willing eye, do seeing fall.  Mal. 
'tis true, but truth seems folly in madness spectacles, I am not now myself, no man: Farewell.  Fre. 
Farewell.  Mal. 
"When woman's in the heart, in the soul hell.  Exit Mal. Fre. 
Now repentance the fools whip seize thee,  
Nay if there be no means I'll be thy friend,  
But not thy Vices; and with greatest sense  
I'll force thee feel thy errors, to the worst  
The vildest of dangers thou shalt sink into,  
No jeweller shall see me, I will lurk  
Where none shall know or think, close I'll withdraw,  
and leave thee with two friends: a whore and knave  
But is this virtue in me? No, not pure,  
Nothing extremely best with us endures,  
No use in simple purities, the elements  
are mixed for use, Silver without allay  
Is all too eager to be wrought for use:  
Nor precise virtues ever purely good  
Holds useful size with temper of weak blood:  
Then let my course be borne, tho: with side-wind,  
The end being good, the means are well assigned, Exit.  Enter Franchischina melancholy, Cockledemoy Cocle. 
Come catafugo Francke a Franck-hall, who who ho,  
Excellent, Ha, here's a plump rump wench, with a breast  
Softer than a courtiers tongue, a old lady's gums,  
Or an old man's mentula, my fine rogue.  Fran. 
Pan you poltroon.  Cocl. 
Gooddy fist, flumpum pum pum, a my fine Wagtail,  
Thou art as false as prostituted and adulterate  
as some translated manuscript Buss fair whore, buss.  Fra, 
God's sacramant. Pox.  Cocle. 
Hadamoy key dost thou frown medianthou teukey  
Nay look here: Numeron key Silver blithe for cany  
Os cany goblet: Us key ne moy blcgefoy oteeston pox  
On you Gosling.  Fran. 
By me fait dis been very fine language, Ick sall bush ye now, ha, be garzon vare had you dat place?  Cocl. 
Hedemoy key, get you gone Punk rampant, key common up-tail.  Enter Marry fough, in haste. Mary. 
O daughter, cozen, niece, servant, mistress.  Cocle. 
Humpum, plumpum squat, I am gone. Ex. Cocle.  Mary. 
There is one M. Malliereux at the door desires to see you: he says he must not be divide, for he hath sent you this ring and withal says 'tis done.  Fran. 
Vat sall me do now, God's sacramant: tell him two hours hence he sall be most affectionately velcome, tell him (vat shall me do) tell him Ick am been in my bate, and Ick fall perfume my seetes, make a mine body so delicate for his arm Two hours hence.  Mary. 
I shall satisfy him two hours hence well.  Exit Marry. Fran. 
Now Ick sall revenge, hay, begar me shall tartar de whole generation, mine brain work it, Frevile, is dead, Malhareux sall hang, And mine rival Beatrice, Ick sall make run mad.  Enter Marry Faugh. Mary. 
he's gone forsooth to eat a caudle of Cock-stones, & will return within this two hours.  Fran. 
Very vel, give mons to some fellow to squire me, Ick shall go abroad.  Mary 
there's a lusty Bravo beneath, a stranger, but a good stale Rascal: he swears valiantly, kicks a Bawd right virtuously, and protests with an empty pocket might desperately, he'll squire you.  Fra. 
Very velcom, mine san, Ick sall return presently, now shall me be revange ten tousant deula, der sall be no got in me but passion, no taught but rage, no mercy but blood, no spirit but Diula in me, Dear shall noting taught good for me, But dat is mischievous for others. Exit  Enter Sir Hubert, Sir Lyonell Beatrice, Crispinella, and Nurse. Tissefeu following. Sir Ly. 
Did no one see him since? pray God, nay all is well,  
A little heat, what he is but withdrawn? and yet I would to God,  
But fear you nothing.  Beat. 
Pray God that all be well or would I were not.  Tyss. 
he's not to be found Sir, anywhere.  Sir Ly. 
You must not make a heavy face presage an ill event: I like your Sister well, she's quick and lively: would she would marry faith.  Cris. 
Marry, nay tell I would marry: methinks an old man's a quiet thing.  Sir Ly. 
Ha, mass and so he is.  Cris. 
You are a Widower.  Sir Ly. 
Than I am i'faith fair Crisp, and I can tell you, would you affect me, I have it in me yet i'faith.  Cris. 
Troth I am in love, let me see your hand: would you cast yourself away upon me willingly?  Sir Ly. 
Will I: I by the  Cris. 
Would you be a cuckold willingly? By my troth us a comely, fine, and handsome sight, for one of my years to marry an old man, truth 'tis restorative what a comfortable thing it is to think of her husband to hear venerable cough o' the everlastings, no feel his rough skin, his summer hands, and winter legs, his almost no eyes, and assuredly no teeth, and then to think what she must dream of, when she considers others happiness and her own want: 'tis a worthy and notorious comfortable match.  Sir Ly. 
Pish, pish, will you have me?  Cris. 
Will you assure me.  Sir Ly. 
Five hundred pound jointure.  Cris. 
That you will die within this fortnight?  Sir Ly. 
No, by my faith Cris.  Cris. 
Then Crisp. by her faith assures you she'll have none of you.  Enter Frevile disguised like a pander and Francischina. Fre. 
Beer leave Gentles and men of night caps, I would I peak, But that here stands one is able to express her own tale best.  Fra. 
Sir mine speech is to you, you had a son master Frevile.  Sir Ly. 
Had ha, and have.  Fran. 
No point, me be come to assure you dat on mestre Malheureus hath killed him.  Beat. 
O me, wretched, wretched.  Sir Hub. 
Look to our daughter.  Sir Ly. 
How art thou informed?  Fran. 
If dat it please you to go vid me, Ick sall bring you where you'll all hear Malheureus' vid his own lips confess it, and dare ye may apprehend him and revenge your and mine loves blood.  Sir Hub. 
Your loves blood mistress, was he your Love?  Fran. 
He was so sir, let your daughter it do not veep Lady, de young man dat be slain did not you for he still louitt me ten tousant tousant times more dearly.  Beat. 
O my heart I will love you the better I cannot hate what he affected? O passion, O my grief which way will break, think and consume?  Cris. 
Peace.  Beat. 
Dear woes cannot speak.  Fran. 
For look you Lady as your ring he gave me, vidmost bitter jests at your scorned kindness.  Bea. 
He did not ill not to love me ,but sure he did not well to mock me: Gentle minds will pity, thou they cannot love yet peace, and my love sleep with him. unlace good nurse, alas, I was not so ambitious of so supreme an happiness, that he should only love me, 'twas joy enough for I poor soul that I only might only love him.  Fran. 
O but to be abused, scorned, scoffed at, O ten thousand diula by such a one, and unto such a one.  Bea. 
I think you say not true sister, shall we know one another in the other world?  Crisp. 
What means my sister?  Bea. 
I would feign see him again: O my torture mind, Frevile is more than dead, he is unkind.  Exit Beat. and Crisp. and Nurse. Sir Hub. 
Convey her in, and so sir as you said Set a strong watch.  Sir Ly. 
ay sir, and so pass along with this same common woman, you must make it good.  Fran. 
Ick sall, or let me pay for his, mine blood.  Sir Hu. 
Come then along all, with quiet speed.  Sir Ly. 
O Fate?  Tyss. 
O sir, be wisely sorry, but not passionate. Exit:  Manet Frevile. Fre. 
I will go and reveal myself: stay: no, no,  
Grief endures Love: Heaven to have such a wife  
Is happiness, to breed pale envy in the saints.  
Thou worthy dove-like virgin without gall,  
Cannot (that woman's evil) jealousy,  
Despite disgrace, nay which is worst, contempt  
Once stir thy faith. O Truth, how few sisters hast thou?  
Dear memory, with what a suffering sweetness, quiet modesty,  
Yet deep affection she received my death,  
And then with what a patient, yet oppressed kindness  
She took my lewdly intimated wrongs. O the dearest of heaven?  
Were there but three such women in the world, two  
Might be saved.  
Well, I am great with expectation to what devilish end  
This woman of foul soul will drive her plots:  
But providence all wicked art over tops.  
"and Impudence must know (though stiff as Ice,)  
" That fortune doth not alway dote on Vice. Exit.  Enter sir Hubert, sir Lyonell, Tyssesue, Franch. and three with Halberds. Sir Hub. 
Plant a watch there, be very careful Sirs, the rest with us.  Tyss. 
The heavy night grows to her depth of quiet, 'tis about mid darkness.  Fran. 
Mine chamber is hard by, Ick sall bring you to it presantment.  Sir Ly. 
Deep silence. On  Cocle. 
within Wa, ha, ha, Ex.  Enter Mulligrub. Mul. 
It was his voice, 'tis he: he sups with his cupping glasses. 'tis late, he must pass this way: I'll ha' him, I'll ha' my fine boy, my worshipful Cocledemoy, I'll moy him, he shall be hanged in lousy linen, I'll hire some sectary to make him an heretic before he die? And when he is dead I'll piss on his grave.  Enter Cocledemoy. Cocl. 
Ah my fine punks, good night, Frank, frailty, frail a Frail-Hall? Bonus noches my ubiquitari.  Mul. 
Ware polling and shaving Sir.  Cocle. 
A Wolf, a wolf, a wolf, Exit. Cocledemoy  Leaving his cloak behind him: Mul. 
here's something yet, a Cloak, a cloak, yet I'll after, he cannot scape the watch, I'll hang him if I have any mercy▪ I'll slice him. Exit.  Enter Cocledemoy, Const. 
Who goes there? come before the Constable.  Cocle. 
Bread a God Constable, you are a Watch for the devil. Honest men are robbed under your nose, there's a false knave in the habit of a Vintner, set upon me, he would have had my purse, But I took me to my heels: yet he got my Cloak, a plain stuff cloak poor, yet 'twill serve to hang him? 'tis my loss, poor man that I am.  Enter Mulligrub running with Cocledemoys cloak. 2. 
masters, we must Watch better, be't not strange that knaves, drunkards, and thieves, should be a broad, and yet we of the Watch, Scriveners, smiths, and Tailors, never stur.  2. 
Hark, who goes there?  Mul. 
An honest man and a Citizen.  2. 
Appear, appear, what are you?  Mul. 
A simple Vintner.  1 
A Vintner ha, and simple, draw nearer, nearer: here's the Cloak.  2 
I Master Vintner we know you, a plain stuff cloak: 'tis it.  1 
Right, come: Oh thou varlet, dost not thou know that the Wicked cannot scape the eyes of the Constable?  Mul. 
What means this violence, as I am an honest man I took the cloak.  1. 
As you are a knave, you took the cloak, we are your witnesses for that.  Mul. 
But hear me, hear me, I'll tell you what I am.  2 
A thief you are.  Mul. 
I tell you my name is Mullegrub.  1. 
I will grub you, In with him to the stocks, there let him sit tell tomorrow morning that justice Quodlibet may examine him.  Mul. 
Why but I tell thee.  2. 
Why but I tell thee, we'll tell thee now.  Mul. 
Am I not mad, am I not an ass,  
Why scabs, God's foot: let me out.  2. 
ay, ay, let him prate, he shall find matter in us scabs I warrant: Gods so, what good members of the common wealth, do we prove.  1. 
Prithee peace, let's remember our duties, and let go sleep, in the fear of God. Exeunt.  Having left Mullegrub in the stocks. Mul. 
Who goes there: I lo, ho, ho: zounds shall I run mad, Lose my wits: shall I be hanged, hark: who goes there? Do not fear to be poor Mullegrub, Thou hast a sure stock now.  Enter Cocledemoy like a bellman, Cocle. 
The night grows old,  
And many a cuckold is now Wha, ha, ha, ho,  
Maids on their backs,  
Dream of sweet smacks, and warm: Woe, ho, ho, ho,  
I must go comfort my venerable Mullegrub, I must  
Fiddle him till he fist: fough:  
Maids in your Night-rails,  
Look well to your light  
Keep close your locks,  
and down your smocks,  
Keep a broad eye  
And a close thigh, excellent, excellent, whose's there?  
Now Lord, Lord, (master Mullegrub) deliver us: what does your Worship in the stocks? I pray come out Sir.  Mul. 
Zounds man I tell thee I am locked.  Coc. 
Locked: O world: O men: O time: o night: that canst not Discern virtue, and wisdom, and one of the common Counsel: What is your Worship in for?  Mul. 
For (a plague on't) suspicion of Felony.  Cocl. 
Nay, and it be but such a trifle, Lord I could weep, to see your good Worship in this taking: your Worship has been a good friend to me, and though you have forgot me, yet I knew your wife before she was married, and since I have found your Worsh. door open and I have knocked, and God knows what I have saved: and do I live to see your Worship stocked?  Mal. 
Honest Belman, I perceive thou know'st me, I prithee call the Watch. Inform the Constable of my reputation, That I may no longer abide in this shameful habitation, And hold thee, all I have about me.  Gives him his purse. Cocle. 
'tis more than I deserve sir: Let me alone for your Delivery.  Mul. 
Do, and then let me alone with Cockledemoy, I'll moy him.  Cocle. 
Maids in your: Master Constable, whose's that i'th' stocks?  1. 
One for a robbery: one Mullegrub, he calls himself. Mullegrub? belman, know'st thou him?  Cocle. 
Know him: O master Const. what good service have you done. Know him? he's a strong thief, his house has been suspected for a bawdy Tavern a great while: and a receipt for Cutpurses, 'tis most certain: He has been long in the black book, and is he ta'en now?  2 
by’r lady my masters we'll not trust the stocks with him, we'll have him to the justices, get a Mittimus to Newgate presently. Come sir, come on sir.  Mul. 
Ha: does your Rascalship yet know my Worship In the end?  1 
ay, the end of your Worship we know.  Mul. 
Ha, goodman Constable, here's an honest fellow can tell you what I am?  2 
'tis true sir, you're a strong thief he says on his own knowledge: Bind fast, bind fast, we know you: we'll trust no Stocks with you. Away with him to the jail instantly.  Mul. 
Why but dost hear belman, Rogue, Rascal, Gods Why but? The constable drags away mulligrub.  Cocle. 
Why but; wha ha ha, excellent, excellent, ha my fine Cocledemoy, my Vintner fists, I'll make him fart crackers before I ha' done with him; tomorrow is the day of judgement.  
Afore the Lord God my knavery grows unperegal, 'tis time to take a nap, until half an hour hence: God give your Worship Music, content, and rest.  Exeunt. 
Finis Actus quartus   

Actus Quintus, Scena prima.  Enter Franchischina, sir Lyonel, Tissefeu, with Officers. Fran. 
You been very velcom to mine shambra.  sir Lyo. 
But how know ye, how are ye assured Both of the deed, and of his suit return.  Fran. 
O Myn-here. Ick sall tell you, metre Malhereux  
Came all breathless running a my shambra  
His sword all bloody: he tell a me he had kill Frevile,  
And pred o' me to conceal him:  
Ick flatter him, bid bring moneys, he should live and lie vid me,  
He went whilst Ick (me hope vidout sins) out of mine  
Much love to Frevile betray him.  Sir Lyo. 
Fear not, 'tis well: good works get grace for sin.  She conceals them behind the curtain. Fran. 
Dear, peace, rest dear, so softly, all go in:  
De net is lay, now shall Ick be revenge.  
If dat me knew a dog dat Frevile love,  
Me would poison him, for know de deepest hell  
As a revenging Woman's, nought so fell.  Enter Marry fough. mary. 
Ho cozen Francke, the party you wot of, M. Malhereux.  Fran. 
Bid him come up, I prithee.  Cantat saltatque cum cithera. Enter malhereux. Fran. 
O mine here man, a dear liver Love,  
Mine ten tousant times velcom Love,  
Ha, by mine trat, you been de just, vat sall me say:  
Vat seet honey name sall I call you?  Mal. 
Any from you is pleasure. Come my loving  
Prettiness, where's thy Chamber?  
I long to touch your sheets.  Fran. 
No, no, not yet mine sweetest soft-lipped love:  
You sall not gulp down all delights at once:  
Be min trat, dis all-fles-Lovers, dis ravenous Wenches  
Dat sallow all down hole, vill have all at one bit,  
Fie, fie, fie, be min fait day do eat  
comfits vid spoons.  
No, no, I'll make you chew your pleasure vit love,  
"De more degrees and steps, de more delight,  
" De more endeared is de pleasure hight.  Mal. 
What your a learned wanton, and proceed by art?  Fran. 
Go little wag, pleasure should have a  
crane's long neck, to relish de Ambrosia of  
Delight.  
And Ick pre de tel me, for me loves to hear of manhood  
Very much, Isait: Ick prede (vat vas me a saying)  
Oh, Ick prede tell a me:  
How did you kill a metre Frevile?  Mal. 
Why quarreled a set purpose, drew him out, Singled him, and having th'advantage of my sword and might, ran him through and through.  Fran. 
Vat did you vid him van he was sticken?  Mal. 
I dragged him by the heels to the next wharf and spurned him in the River.  Those in ambush rusheth forth and takes him. sir Lyo. 
Seize, seize him: O monstruous? O ruthless Villain?  Mul. 
What mean you Gentlemen? by heaven,  Tys. 
Speak not of any thing that's good.  Mal. 
Your errors gives you passion: Frevile lives.  Sir Lyo. 
thy own lips say, thou liest.  Mal. 
Let me die if at shatewe's the jeweller, he lives not safe untouched.  Tys. 
Mean time to strictest guard, to sharpest prison.  Mall 
No rudeness Gentlemen: I'll go undragged.  
O wicked, wicked Devil. Exit.  Sir Lyo. 
Sir, the day of trial is this morn,  
Let's prosecute the sharpest rigor, and severest end:  
"Good men are cruel, when theyare vices friend.  Sir Hub. 
Woman we thank thee, with no empty hand,  
Strumpets are fit, fit for something. Farewell.  All save Frevile departs. Fre. 
ay, for Hell: O thou unreprievable, beyond all  
Measure of Grace damned immediately:  
That things of beauty created for sweet use:  
Soft comfort, and as the very music of life,  
Custom should make so unutterably hellish?  
O heaven, what difference is in women, and their life?  
What man, but worthy name of Man:  
Would leave the modest pleasures of a lawful bed:  
The holy union of two equal hearts  
Mutually holding either dear as health,  
The undoubted issues, joys of chaste sheets,  
The unfeigned embrace of sober Ignorance:  
To twine the unhealthful loins of common Loves,  
The prostituted impudence of things.  
Senseless like those by Cataracts of Nile,  
"Their use so vile, takes away sense how vile,  
" To love a creature, made of blood and hell,  
"Whose use makes weak, whose company doth shame,  
" Whose bed doth beggar: issue doth defame.  Enter Francischina. Fran. 
Metre Frevile live: ha, ha, live at mestre shatewe's:  
Much at metre shatew's. Frevile is dead. Malhereux sall hang,  
And sweet devil, dat Beatrice would but run mad, dat  
she would but run mad, den me would dance and sing,  
Metre Don Dubon, me pre ye now go to mistress  
Beatrice, tell her Frevile is sure dead, and dat he  
Curse herself especially, for dat he was  
Sticked in her quarrel, swearing in his last gasp,  
Dat if it had been in mine quarrels,  
'twould never have grieved him.  Fre. 
I will.  Fran. 
Prede do, and say any ting dat vil vex her.  Fre. 
Let me alone to vex her.  Fran. 
Vil you, vil you make a her run mad? here take  
Dis ring, sea me scorn to wear any ting dat washers,  
Or his: I prede torment her, Ick cannot love her,  
She honest and virtuous forsooth.  Fre. 
Is she so? O vile creature? then let me alone with her.  Fran. 
Vat. Vil you make a her mad? seet by min trat,  
Be pretta seruan, Bush, Ick sall go to bet now.  Fre. 
Mischief whether wilt thou? O thou tearless woman?  
How monstrous is thy Devil,  
The end of Hell as thee.  
How miserable were it to be virtuous, if thou couldst prosper?  
I'll to my Love, the faithful Beatrice,  
She has wept enough, and faith dear soul too much.  
But yet how sweet it is to think  
How dear ones life was to his Love: how mourned his death.  
'tis joy not to be expressed with breath:  
But O let him that would such passion drink,  
Be quiet of his speech, and only think. Exit.  Enter Beatrice and Crispinella. Bet. 
Sister, cannot a woman kill herself? Is it not lawful to die when we should not live?  Crisp. 
O sister 'tis a question not for us, we must do what God will.  Beat. 
What God will? Alas, can torment be his glory, or our grief his pleasure? Does not the nurses nipple juiced over with Wormwood, bid the child it should not suck? And does not Heaven when it hath made our breath bitter unto us, say we should not live? O my best sister: to suffer wounds when one may scape this rod, is against nature, that is against God.  Crisp. 
Good sister do not make me weep: sure Frevile was not false: I'll gauge my life that strumpet out of craft  
And some close second end hath maliced him.  Beat. 
O sister if he were not false, whom have I lost?  
If he were: what grief to such unkindness,  
From head to foot I am all misery:  
Only in this, some justice I have found  
My grief is like my love, beyond all bound. Enter Nurse  Nurse. 
My servant, master Cacature desires to visit you,  Crisp. 
For griefs sake keep him out, his discourse is like the long word, Honorificabilitudinitatibus: a great deal  
Of sound and no sense: his company is like a parenthesis.  
To a discourse you may admit it, or leave it out, it makes no matter.  Enter Frevile in his discourse. Fre. 
By your leave sweet creatures.  Crisp. 
Sir, all I can yet say of you, is, you are uncivil.  Fre. 
You must deny it: By your sorrows leave,  
I bring some music, to make sweet your grief,  Beat. 
whate'er you please: O break my heart  
Canst thou yet pant? O dost thou yet survive,  
Thou didst not love him, if thou now canst live:  Frevile. He sings, she sounds. 

O Love, how strangely sweet  
are thy weak Passions,  
That love and joy shall meet  
in self same fashions.  
O who can tell  
the cause why this should move?  
But only this,  
no reason, ask of Love.   Crisp. 
Hold, peace, the gentlest soul is swooned, O my best sister.  Fre. 
Ha, get you gone, close the doors: My Beatrice,  Discovers himself. 
Cursed be my indiscreet trials: O my immeasurably loving.  Crisp. 
She stirs, give air, she breathes.  Beat. 
Where am I, ha? how have I slipped off life?  
Am I in heaven? O my Lord, though not loving  
By our eternal being, yet give me leave  
To rest by thy dear side: am I not in heaven?  Fre. 
O eternally much laved, recollect your spirits.  Beat. 
Ha, you do speak, I do see you, I do live,  
I would not die now: Let me not burst with wonder.  Fre. 
Call up your blood, I live to honour you,  
As the admired glory of your sex.  
Nor ever hath my love been false to you.  
Only I presumed to try your faith too much,  
For which I most am grieved.  Cris. 
Brother; I must be plain with you, you have wronged us.  
I am not so Covetous to deny it,  
But yet when my discourse hath staid your quaking,  
You will be smother lipped: and the delight  
And satisfaction which we all have got,  
Under these strange disguisings, when you know,  
You will be mild and quiet, forget at last,  
"It is much joy to think on sorrows past.  Beat. 
Do you then live? and are you not untrue?  
Let me not die with joy, pleasure's more extreme:  
Then grief, there's nothing sweet to man but mean.  Fre. 
Heaven cannot be too gracious to such goodness, I shall discourse to you the several chances, but hark I must yet rest disguised, the sudden close of many drifts now meet,  
"Where pleasure hath some profit, art is sweet. Enter Tisefeu.  Tys. 
News, news, news, news.  Cris. 
Oysters, Oysters, oysters, oysters.  Tys. 
Why, is not this well now? Is not this better than louring, and pouting, and puling, which is hateful to the living, and vain to the dead? Come, come, you must live by the quick, when all is done, and for my own part, let my wife laugh at me when I am dead, so she'll smile upon me whilst I live, but to see a woman Whine, and yet keep her eyes dry mourn, and yet keep her cheeks fat: nay, to see a woman claw her husband by the feet when he is dead, that would have scratched him by the face when he was living: this now is somewhat ridiculous.  Cris. 
Lord how you prate.  Tis. 
And yet I was afraid i'faith that I should ha' seen a Garland on this beauty's hearse, but time, truth, experience, and variety, are great doers with women.  Cris. 
But what's the news? the news I pray you?  Tys. 
I pray you? near pray me: for by your leave you may command me. This 'tis: the public sessions which this day is past, hath doomed to death ill fortuned Malhereux.  Cris. 
But sir, we heard he offered to make good,  
That Frevile lived at shatew's the jewellers.  Bea. 
And that 'twas but a plot betwixt them two.  Tyss. 
O ay, ay, he gaged his life with it, but know  
When all approached the test, shatew's divide  
He saw or heard of any such complot,  
Or of Frevill: so that his own defence,  
Appeared so false, that like a madman's sword,  
He stroke his own heart, he hath the course of law  
and instantly must suffer: but the jest  
(If hanging be a jest) as many make it)  
Is to take notice of one Mullegrub, a sharking vintner.  Fre. 
What of him Sir.  Tys. 
Nothing but hanging, the Whoreson slave is mad before he hath lost his senses.  Fre. 
Was his fact clear and made apparent Sir?  Tys. 
No faith suspicions, for 'twas thus protested  
a cloak was stolen, that cloak he had, he had it  
Himself confessed by force, the rest of his defence  
The choler of a justice wronged in wine,  
Joined with malignance of some hasty jurors,  
Whose wit was lighted by the justice nose, The knave was cast,  
But Lord to hear his moan, his prayers, his wishes,  
His zeal ill timed, and his words unpitied,  
Would make a dead man rise and smile,  
Whilst he observed how fear can make men vile.  Cris. 
Shall we go meet the execution?  Beat. 
I shall be ruled by you.  Tys. 
By my troth a rare motion, you must haste,  
For malefactors goes like the world upon wheels.  Bea. 
Will you man us, you shall be our guide to Frevile.  Fre. 
I am your servant.  Tys. 
Ha servant? Zounds I am no companion for panders, your best make him your love.  Bea. 
So will I Sir, we must live by the quick you say.  Tys. 
'Sdeath a virtue, what a damned things this?  
Whole trust fair faces, tears, and vows, 'Sdeath not I,  
She is a woman, that is, she can lie.  Cris. 
Come, come, turn not a man of time, to make all ill,  
Whose goodness you conceive not, since the worst of chance  
Is to crave grace for heedless ignorance.  Enter Cocledemoy like a Sergeant. Cocl. 
So, I ha' lost my Sergeant in an ecliptic mist, drunk, horrible drunk, he is fine: so now will I fit myself, I hope this habit will do me no harm, I am an honest man already: fit, fit, fit as a punk's tail, that serves everybody: By this time my Vintner thinks of nothing but hell and sulphur, he farts fire and brimstone already, hang toasts, the execution approacheth.  Enter Sir Lyonell: Sir Hubert, Malhereux piniond, Tysefeu, Beatrice, Frevile, Crisp. Francischina, and Halberds. Mal. 
I do not blush, although condemned by laws,  
No kind of death is shameful but the cause:  
Which I do know is none, and yet my lust  
Hath made the one (although not cause) most just.  
May I not be reprieved? Frevile is but mislodged,  
Some lethargy hath seized him, no, much malice,  
Do not lay blood upon your souls with good intents,  
Men may do ill and law sometime repents.  Cockledemoy picks Malheureux's pocket of his purse. Sir Lyo. 
Sir, sir, prepare, vain is all lewd defence.  Mal. 
"Conscience was law: but now laws Conscience,  
My endless peace is made, and to the poor,  
My purse, my purse.  Cocle. 
I Sir, and it shall please you the poor has your purse already.  Mal. 
You are a Welyman,  
But now thou source of Devils, Oh how I loath  
The very memory of that I adored,  
He that's of fair blood, well meant, of good breeding,  
Best famed, of sweet acquaintance and true friends,  
And would with desperate Impudence lose all these,  
And hazard landing at this fatal shore,  
Let him near kill, nor steal, but love a Whore,  Fran. 
De man dose rave, tinck a got, tinck a got, and bid de flesh, de world, and the dible farewell.  Mal. 
Farewell. Frevile discovers himself.  Fre. 
Farewell.  Fran. 
Vat be't you sea, ha?  Fre. 
Sir your pardon, with my this defence,  
Do not forget protested violence  
Of your low affections no requests,  
No arguments of reason, no known danger.  
No assured wicked bloodiness,  
Could draw your heart from this damnation.  Mal. 
Why stay.  Fran. 
Unprosperous Devil, vat sall me do now.  Fre. 
Therefore to force you from the truer danger,  
I wrought the feigned, suffering this fair Devil,  
In shaps of woman to make good her plot,  
And knowing that the hook was deeply fast,  
I gave her line at will, till with her own vain strivings,  
See here she's tired: O thou comely damnation?  
Dost think that vice is not to be withstood,  
O what is woman merely made of blood.  Sir Ly. 
You maze us all, let us not be lost in darkness?  Fre. 
All shall be lighted, but this time and place  
Forbids longer speech, only what you can think  
Has been extremely ill is only hers.  Sir Ly. 
To severest prison with her, with what heart canst live? What eyes behold a face?  Fran, 
Ick vil not speak, torture, torture your fill,  
For me am worse than hanged, me ha' lost my will. Exit.  Francischina with the guard. Sir Ly. 
To the extremest whip and jail.  Fre. 
frolic, how is it Sirs?  Mal. 
I am myself, how long was't ere I could  
Persuade my passion to grow calm to you?  
Rich sense makes good bad language, and a friend  
Should weigh no action, but the actions end.  
I am now worthy yours, when before  
The beast of man, loose blood distempered us,  
"He that lust rules cannot be virtuous.  Enter Mullegrub mistress Mullegrub and officers. Offi. 
On afore there, room for the prisoners?  Mul. 
I pray you do not lead me to execution through Cheapside, I owe M. Burnish the goldsmith money, and I fear he'll set a sergeant on my back for it.  Coc. 
Trouble not your sconce my Christian Brothers, but have an eye unto the main chance, I will warrant your shoulders, as for your neck Plinius secundus, or marcus Tullius Cicero, or somebody it is says, that a three fold cord is hardly broken.  Mull. 
Well, I am not the first honest man that hath been cast away, and I hope shall not be the last.  Cocle. 
O sir, have a good stomach and maws, you shall have a joyful supper.  Muly. 
In troth I have no stomach to it, and it please you take my trencher▪ I use to fast at nights.  mistress mul. 
O husband, I little thought you should have come to think on God thus soon: nay and you had been hanged deservedly, it would never have grieved me, I have known of many honest innocent men have been hanged deservedly, but to be cast away for nothing.  Cocl. 
Good woman hold your peace, your prittles & your prattles your bibbles and your babbles, for I pray you hear me in private, I am a widower, and you are almost a widow, shall I be welcome to your houses, to your tables, and your other things.  mist mul. 
I have a piece of mutton and a featherbed for you at all times, I pray make haste.  Mul. 
I do here make my confession, if I owe any man any thing, I do heartily forgive him: if any man owe me any thing, let him pay my wife.  Cocle. 
I will look to your wives payment I warrant you.  Mul. 
And now good yoke-fellow leave thy poor mulligrub.  mist. mul. 
Nay then I were unkind i'faith, I will not leave you until I have seen you hang.  Cocle. 
But brothers, brothers, you must think of your sins and iniquities, you have been a broacher of profane vessels, you have made us drink of the juice of the whore of Babylon, for whereas good ale, Perrys, Bragets, ciders, and metheglins, was the true ancient British and Trojan drinks, you ha' brought in Popish wines, Spanish wines, French wines, tam marti quam mercurio, both muscadine and malmsey, to the subversion, staggering, and sometimes overthrow of many a good Christian: You ha' been a great jumbler, O remember the sins of your nights, for your night works ha' been unsavoury in the taste of your Customers.  mul. 
I confess, I confess, and I forgive as I would be forgiven, Do you know one Cocledemoy?  Cocle. 
O very well: know him? an honest man he is and a comely, an upright dealer with his neighbours, and their wives speak good things of him.  mul. 
Well, wheresoe'er he is, or whatsoe'er he is, I'll take it on my death he's the cause of my hanging, I heartily forgive him, and if he would come forth he might save me, for he only knows the why, and the wherefore.  Cocle. 
You do from your hearts, and midriffs, and entrails forgive him than you will not let him rot in rusty Irons, procure him to be hanged in lousy linen without a song, and after he is dead piss on his grave.  mul. 
That hard heart of mine has procured all this, but I forgive as I would be forgiven.  Col. 
Hang toasts my Worsh.  mulli. 
behold thy Cocledemoy, my fine vintner, my castrophomical fine boy: behold and see.  Tyss. 
Bliss, o' the blessed, who would but look for 2. knaves here?  Cocl. 
No knave wor. friend, no knave, for observe honest Cocledemoy restores whatsoever he has got, to make you know, that whatsoe'er he has done, has been only Euphoniae gratia, for wit's sake: I acquit this Vintner as he has acquitted me, all has been done for Emphases of wit my fine boy, my worshipful friends.  Tys. 
Go you are a flattering knave.  Cocl. 
I am so, 'tis a good thriving trade, it comes forward better than the 7. liberal Sciences, or the nine cardinal virtues, which may well appear in this, you shall never have flattering knave turn courtier: and yet I have read of many Courtiers that have turned flattering knaves.  Sir Hub. 
Wast even but so, why then als well?  mull. 
I could even weep for joy.  mist, mul. 
I could weep to, but God knows for what.  Tys. 
Hers another tack to be given, your son and daughter.  Sir Hub. 
be't possible, heart I, all my heart, will you be joined here?  Tys. 
yes faith father, marriage and hanging are spun both in one hour.  Cocle. 
Why then my worsh. good friends I bid myself most heartily welcome to your merry nuptials, and wanton jigga-joggies And now my very fine Heliconian Gallants, and you my Worsh. friends in the middle Region: 
If with content our hurtless mirth hath been,  
Let your pleased minds as our much care hath been:  
For he shall find that slights such trivial wit,  
'tis easier to reprove then better it:  
We scorn to fear, and yet we fear to swell,  
We do not hope 'tis best: 'tis all, if Well. Exeunt. FINIS. Exeunt