The Roaring Girl. OR Moll cutpurse.  
As it hath lately been Acted on the Fortune-stage by the Prince his Players.  
Written by T. Middleton and T. Dekkar.  

My case is altered, I must work for my living.   
Printed at London for Thomas Archer, and are to be sold at his shop in pope's head-palace, near the Royal Exchange. 1611.   

To the Comic, Play-readers, Venery, and Laughter.  
THE fashion of playmaking, I can properly compare to nothing, so naturally, as the alteration in apparel: For in the time of the Great-crop-doublet, your huge bombasted plays, quilted with mighty words to lean purpose was only then in fashion. And as the doublet fell, neater inventions began to set up. Now in the time of spruceness, our plays follow the niceness of our Garments, single plots, quaint conceits, lecherous jests, dressed up in hanging sleeves, and those are fit for the Times, and the termers: Such a kind of light-colour Summer stuff, mingled with diverse colours, you shall find this published Comedy, good to keep you in an afternoon from dice, at home in your chambers; and for venery you shall find enough, for sixpence, but well couched and you mark it. For Venus being a woman passes through the play in doublet and breeches, a brave disguise and a safe one, if the Statute untie not her codpiece point. The book I make no question, but is fit for many of your companies, as well as the person itself, and may be allowed both Gallery room at the playhouse, and chamber-room at your lodging: worse things I must needs confess the world has taxed her for, then has been written of her; but 'tis the excellency of a Writer, to leave things better than he finds 'em; though some obscene fellow (that cares not what he writes against others, yet keeps a mystical bawdy-house himself, and entertains drunkards, to make use of their pockets, and vent his private bottle-ale at midnight) though such a one would have ripped up the most nasty vice, that ever hell belched forth, and presented it to a modest Assembly; yet we rather wish in such discoveries, where reputation lies bleeding, a slackness of truth, than fullness of slander.  
THOMAS MIDDLETON.   

Prologus.  

A Play (expected long) makes the Audience look  
For wonders:— that each scene should be a book,  
Composed to all perfection; each one comes  
And brings a play in's head with him: up he sums,  
What he would of a Roaring Girl have writ;  
If that he finds not here, he mews at it.  
Only we entreat you think our scene.  
Cannot speak high (the subject being but mean)  
A Roaring Girl (whose notes till now never were)  
Shall fill with laughter our vast Theater,  
That's all which I dare promise: Tragic passion,  
And such grave stuff, is this day out of fashion.  
I see attention sets wide ope her gates  
Of hearing, and with covetous listening waits,  
To know what Girl, this Roaring Girl should be.  
(For of that Tribe are many.) One is she  
That roars at midnight in deep Tavern bowls,  
That beats the watch, and Constable's controls;  
Another roars i'th' day time, swears, stabs, gives braves,  
Yet sells her soul to the lust of fools and slaves.  
Both these are Suburb-roarers. Then there's (beside)  
A civil City Roaring Girl, whose pride,  
Feasting, and riding, shakes her husband's state,  
And leaves him Roaring through an iron grate.  
None of these Roaring Girls is ours: she flies  
With wings more lofty. Thus her character lies,  
Yet what need characters? when to give a guess,  
Is better than the person to express;  
But would you know who 'tis? would you hear her name?  
she is called mad Moll; her life, our acts proclaim.    


Dramatis Personae.  
Sir Alexander Wentgrane, and Neats-foot his man.  
Sir Adam Appleton.  
Sir Davy Dapper.  
Sir Bewteous Ganymed.  
Lord Noland.  
Young Wentgrane,  
Jack Dapper, and Gull his page.  
Goshawk.  
Greenwit.  
Luxton.  
Tiltyard. Cives & uxores. Openwork. Gallipot.  
Moll the Roaring Girl.  
trapdoor.  
Sir Guy Fitz-allard.  
Mary Fitz-allard his daughter.  
Curtilax a sergeant, and  
Hanger his Yeoman.  
Ministri.    

The Roaring Girl.  
Act. 1. Scoe. 1.  Enter Marry Fitz-Allard disguised like a sempster with a case for bands, and Neatfoot a servingman with her, with a napkin on his shoulder, and a trencher in his hand as from table. Neatfoote. 
THe young gentleman (our young master) Sir Alexander's son, is it into his ears (sweet Damsel) (emblem of fragility) you desire to have a message transported, or to be transcendent.  Mary 
A private word or two Sir, nothing else.  Neat. 
You shall fructify in that which you come for: your pleasure shall be satisfied to your full contentation: I will (fairest tree of generation) watch when our young master is erected, (that is to say up) and deliver him to this your most white hand.  Mary 
Thanks sir.  Neat. 
And withal certify him, that I have culled out for him (now his belly is replenished) a daintier bit or modicum then any lay upon his trencher at dinner— hath he notion of your name, I beseech your chastity.  Mary 
One Sir, of whom he be spoken falling bands.  Neat. 
Falling bands, it shall so be given him,—— if you please to venture your modesty in the hall, amongst a curl-pated company of rude servingmen, and take such as they can set before you, you shall be most seriously, and ingeniously welcome.  Mary 
I have died indeed already sir.  Neat. 
—— Or will you vouchsafe to kiss the lip of a cup of rich Orleans in the buttery amongst our waiting women.  Mary 
Not now in truth sir.  Neat. 
Our young Master shall then have a feeling of your being here presently it shall so be given him.  Exit Neatfoote, marry 
I humbly thank you sir, but that my bosom  
Is full of bitter sorrows, I could smile,  
To see this formal Ape play Antic tricks:  
But in my breast a poisoned arrow sticks,  
And smiles cannot become me, Love woven slightly  
(Such as thy false heart makes) wears out as lightly,  
But love being truly bred i'th' the soul (like mine)  
Bleeds even to death, at the least wound it takes,  
The more we quench this, the less it slakes: Oh me!  Enter Sebastian Wengraue with Neatfoote. Seb. 
A Sempster speak with me, sayst thou.  Neat. 
Yes sir, she's there, viva voce, to deliver her auricular confession.  Seb. 
With me sweet heart. What be't?  Mary 
I have brought home your bands sir.  Seb. 
Bands: Neatfoot.  Neat. 
Sir.  Seb. 
Prithee look in, for all the Gentlemen are upon rising.  Neat. 
Yes sir, a most methodical attendance shall be given.  Seb. 
And dost hear, if my father call for me, say I am busy with a Sempster.  Neat. 
Yes sir, he shall know it that you are busied with a needle woman.  Seb. 
In's ear good Neatfoot,  Neat. 
It shall be so given him.  Exit Neatfoot. Seb. 
Bands, you're mistaken sweet heart, I bespoke none, when, where, I prithee, what bands, let me see them.  Mary 
Yes sir, a bond fast sealed, with solemn oaths,  
Subscribed unto (as I thought) with your soul:  
Delivered as your deed in sight of heaven,  
Is this bond canceled, have you forgot me.  Seb. 
Ha! life of my life: Sir Guy Fitz-allard's daughter,  
What has transformed my love to this strange shape?  
Stay: make all sure,— so: now speak and be brief,  
Because the wolf's at door that lies in wait,  
To prey upon us both albeit mine eyes  
Are blessed by thine, yet this so strange disguise  
Holds me with fear and wonder.  Mary 
Mines a loathed sight,  
Why from it are you banished else so long.  Seb. 
I must cut short my speech, in broken language,  
Thus much sweet Moll, I must thy company shun,  
I court another Moll, my thoughts must run,  
As a horse runs, that's blind, round in a Mill,  
Out every step, yet keeping one path still.  Mary 
umh: must you shun my company, in one knot  
Have both our hands byth' hands of heaven been tied,  
Now to be broke, I thought me once your Bride:  
Our fathers did agree on the time when,  
And must another bedfellow fill my room.  Seb. 
Sweet maid, let's lose no time, 'tis in heavens book  
Set down, that I must have thee: an oath we took,  
To keep our vows, but when the knight your father  
Was from mine parted, storms began to sit  
Upon my covetous father's brow: which fell  
From them on me, he reckoned up what gold  
This marriage would draw from him, at which he swore,  
To lose so much blood, could not grieve him more.  
He then dissuades me from thee, called thee not fair,  
And asked what is she, but a beggar's heir?  
He scorned thy dowry of (5000) Marks.  
If such a sum of money could be found,  
And I would match with that, he'd not undo it,  
Provided his bags might add nothing to it,  
But vowed, if I took thee, nay more, did swear it,  
Save birth from him I nothing should inherit.  Mary 
What follows then, my shipwreck.  Seb. 
Dearest no:  
Though wildly in a labyrinth I go,  
My end is to meet thee: with a side wind  
Must I now sail, else I no haven can find  
But both must sink for ever. There's a wench  
Called Moll, mad Moll, or merry Moll, a creature  
So strange in quality, a whole city takes  
Note of her name and person, all that affection  
I owe to thee, on her in counterfeit passion,  
I spend to mad my father: he believes  
I dote upon this Roaring Girl, and grieves  
As it becomes a father for a son,  
That could be so bewitched: yet i'll go on  
This crooked way, sigh still for her, fain dreams,  
In which i'll talk only of her, these streams  
Shall, I hope, force my father to consent  
That here I anchor rather than be rent  
Upon a rock so dangerous, Art thou pleased,  
Because thou seest we are waylaid, that I take  
A path that's safe, though it be far about,  marry 
My prayers with heaven guide thee,  Seb. 
Then I will on,  
My father is at hand, kiss and begone;  
Hours shall be watched for meetings; I must now  
As men for fear, to a strange I doll bow.  Mary 
Farewell.  Seb. 
I'll guide thee forth, when next we meet,  
A story of Moll shall make our mirth more sweet.  Exeunt Enter Sir Alexander Wengraue, Sir Davy Dapper, Sir Adam Appleton, Goshake, Laxton, and Gentlemen. Omnes 
Thanks good Sir Alexander for our bounteous cheer:  Alex. 
Fie, fie, in giving thanks you pay too dear.  S. Dap. 
When bounty spreads the table, faith 'twere sin,  
(at going of) if thanks should not step in.  Alex. 
No more of thanks, no more, I marry Sir,  
Th'inner room was too close, how do you like  
This Parlour Gentlemen?  Omnes 
Oh passing well.  Adam 
What a sweet breath the air casts here, so cool,  Gosh. 
I like the prospect best.  Lax. 
See how 'tis furnished.  S. Dap. 
A very fair sweet room.  Alex. 
Sir Davy Dapper,  
The furniture that doth adorn this room,  
Cost many a fair grey groat ere it came here,  
But good things are most cheap, when theyare most dear,  
Nay when you look into my galleries,  
How bravely they are trimmed up, you all shall swear  
youare highly pleased to see what's set down there:  
Stories of men and women (mixed together  
Fair ones with foul, like sunshine in wet wether)  
Within one square a thousand heads are laid  
So close, that all of heads, the room seems made,  
As many faces there (filled with blithe looks)  
Show like the promising titles of new books,  
(Writ merrily) the Readers being their own eyes,  
Which seem to move and to give plaudities,  
And here and there (whilst with obsequious ears,  
Thronged heaps do listen) a cut purse thrusts and leers  
With hawks eyes for his prey: I need not show him,  
By a hanging villainous look, yourselves may know him,  
The face is drawn so rarely, Than sir below,  
The very flower (as 'twere) waves to and fro,  
And like a floating Island, seems to move,  
Upon a sea bound in with shores above,  Enter Sebastian and M. Greenwit. Omnes. 
These sights are excellent.  Alex. 
I'll show you all,  
Since we are met, make our parting Comical.  Seb. 
This gentleman (my friend) will take his leave Sir.  Alex. 
Ha, take his leave (Sebastian) who?  Seb. 
This gentleman.  Alex. 
Your love sir, has already given me some time,  
And if you please to trust my age with more,  
It shall pay double interest: Good sir stay.  Green. 
I have been too bold.  Alex. 
Not so sir. A merry day  
'mongst friends being spent, is better than gold saved.  
Some wine, some wine. Where be these knaves I keep.  Enter three or four servingmen, and Neatfoote. Neat. 
At your worshipful elbow, sir.  Alex. 
You are kissing my maids, drinking, or fast asleep.  Neat. 
Your worship has given it us right.  Alex. 
You varlets stir,  
Chairs, stools and cushions: prithee sir Davy Dapper,  
Make that chair thine.  Sir Dap. 
'tis but an easy gift,  
And yet I thank you for it sir, I'll take it.  Alex. 
A chair for old sir Adam Appleton.  Neat. 
A back friend to your worship.  Adam. 
marry good Neatfoot,  
I thank thee for it: back friends sometimes are good.  Alex. 
Pray make that stool your perch, good M. Goshawk.  Gosh. 
I stoop to your lure sir.  Alex. 
Son Sebastian,  
Take Master Greenwit to you.  Seb. 
Sit dear friend.  Alex. 
Nay master Laxton— furnish master Laxton  
With what he wants (a stone) a stool I would say, a stool.  Laxton. 
I had rather stand sir.  Exeunt servants. Alex. 
I know you had (good M. Laxton.) So, so—  
Now here's a mess of friends, and (gentlemen)  
Because Time's glass shall not be running long,  
I'll quicken it with a pretty tale.  Sir Dap. 
Good tales do well,  
In these bad days, where vice does so excel.  Adam. 
Begin sir Alexander.  Alex. 
Last day I met  
An aged man upon whose head was scored,  
A debt of just so many years as these,  
Which I owe to my grave, the man you all know.  Omnes. 
His name I pray you sir.  Alex. 
Nay you shall pardon me,  
But when he saw me (with a sigh that broke,  
Or seemed to break his heartstrings) thus he spoke:  
Oh my good knight, says he, (and then his eyes  
Were richer even by that which made them poor,  
They had spent so many tears they had no more.)  
Oh sir (says he) you know it, for you ha' seen  
Blessings to rain upon mine house and me:  
Fortune (who slaves men) was my slave: her wheel  
Hath spun me golden threads, for I thank heaven,  
I near had but one cause to curse my stars,  
I asked him then, what that one cause might be.  Omnes. 
So Sir.  Alex. 
He paused, and as we often see,  
A sea so much becalmed, there can be found  
No wrinkle on his brow, his waves being drowned  
In their own rage: but when th'imperious wind,  
Use strange invisible tyranny to shake  
Both heavens and earth's foundation at their noise:  
The seas swelling with wrath to part that fray  
Rise up, and are more wild, more mad, than they.  
even so this good old man was by my question  
Stirred up to roughness, you might see his gall  
Flow even in's eyes: then grew he fantastical.  Sir Dap. 
Fantastical, ha, ha.  Alex. 
Yes, and talk oddly.  Adam. 
Pray sir proceed,  
How did this old man end?  Alex. 
marry sir thus.  
He left his wild fit to read over his cards,  
Yet then (though age cast snow on all his hairs)  
He joyed because (says he) the God of gold  
Has been to me no niggard: that disease  
(Of which all old men sicken) Avarice  
Never infected me.  Lax. 
He means not himself i'm sure.  Alex. 
For like a lamp,  
Fed with continual oil, I spend and throw  
My light to all that need it, yet have still  
Enough to serve myself, oh but (quoth he)  
Though heavens-dew fall, thus on this aged tree,  
I have a son that's like a wedge doth cleave,  
My very heart root,  S, Dap. 
Had he such a son,  Seb, 
Now I do smell a fox strongly.  Alex. 
Let's see: no Master Greenwit is not yet  
So mellow in years as he; but as like Sebastian,  
Just like my son Sebastian,— such another.  Seb. 
How finely like a fencer my father fetches his by-blows to hit me, but if I beat you not at your own weapon of subtlety.  Alex. 
This son (saith he) that should be  
The column and main arch unto my house,  
The crutch unto my age, becomes a whirlwind  
Shaking the firm foundation,  Adam 
'tis some prodigal.  Seba. 
Well shot old Adam Bell.  Alex. 
No city monster neither, no prodigal,  
But sparing, wary, civil, and (though wifeless)  
An excellent husband, and such a traveler,  
He has more tongues in his head then some have teeth,  S. Dap. 
I have but two in mine  Gosh. 
So sparing and so wary,  
What then could vex his father so.  Alex. 
Oh a woman.  Seb. 
A flesh fly, that can vex any man.  Alex. 
A scurvy woman,  
On whom the passionate old man swore he doted:  
A creature (saith he) nature hath brought forth  
To mock the sex of woman.— It is a thing  
One knows not how to name, her birth began  
Ere she was all made. 'tis woman more than man,  
Man more than woman, and (which to none can hap)  
The Sun gives her two shadows to one shape,  
Nay more, let this strange thing, walk, stand or sit,  
No blazing star draws more eyes after it.  S. Dap. 
A Monster, 'tis some Monster.  Alex. 
she's a varlet.  Seb. 
Now is my cue to bristle.  Alex. 
A naughty pack.  Seb. 
'tis false.  Alex. 
Ha boy.  Seb. 
'tis false.  Alex. 
What's false, I say she's nought.  Seb. 
I say that tongue  
That dares speak so (but yours) sticks in the throat  
Of a rank villain, set yourself aside.—  Alex. 
So sir what then.  Seb. 
Any here else had lied.  
I think I shall fit you—  aside. Alex. 
Lie.  Seb. 
Yes.  Sir Dap. 
Doth this concern him.  Alex. 
Ah sirrah boy.  
Is your blood heated: boils it: are you stung,  
I'll pierce you deeper yet: oh my dear friends,  
I am that wretched father, this that son,  
That sees his ruin, yet headlong on doth run.  Adam. 
Will you love such a poison.  S. Dap. 
Fie, fie.  Seb. 
You're all mad.  Alex. 
thouart sick at heart, yet feelst it not: of all these,  
What Gentleman (but thou) knowing his disease  
Mortal, would shun the cure: oh Master Greenwit,  
Would you to such an Idol bow.  Greene.. 
Not I sir.  Alex. 
here's Master Laxton, has he mind to a woman  
As thou hast.  Lax. 
No not I sir.  Alex. 
Sir I know it.  Lax. 
There good parts are so rare, there bade so common,  
I will have nought to do with any woman.  Sir Dap. 
'tis well done Master Laxton.  Alex. 
Oh thou cruel boy,  
Thou wouldst with lust an old man's life destroy,  
Because thou seest I'm half way in my grave,  
Thou shovel'st dust upon me: would thou mightest have  
Thy wish, most wicked, most unnatural.  Dap. 
Why sir, 'tis thought, sir Guy Fitz-allard's daughter  
Shall wed your son Sebastian.  Alex. 
Sir Davy Dapper.  
I have upon my knees, wood this fond boy,  
To take that virtuous maiden.  Seb. 
Hark you a word sir.  
You on your knees have cursed that virtuous maiden,  
And me for loving her, yet do you now  
Thus baffle me to my face: were not your knees  
In such entreats, give me Fitz-allard's daughter.  Alex. 
I'll give thee ratsbane rather.  Seb. 
Well then you know  
What dish I mean to feed upon.  Alex. 
Hark Gentlemen,  
He swears to have this cutpurse drab, to spite my gall.  Omnes. 
Master Sebastian.  Seb. 
I am deaf to you all.  
I'm so bewitched, so bound to my desires,  
Tears, prayers, threats, nothing can quench out those fires  
That burn within me.  Exit Sebastian. Alex. 
Her blood shall quench it then,  
Lose him not, oh dissuade him Gentlemen.  Sir Dap. 
He shall be weaned I warrant you.  Alex. 
Before his eyes  
Lay down his shame, my grief, his miseries.  Omnes. 
No more, no more, away.  Exeunt all but sir Alexander. Alex. 
I wash a Negro,  
Losing both pains and cost: but take thy flight,  
I'll be most near thee, when I'm least in sight.  
Wild Buck i'll hunt thee breathless, thou shalt run on,  
But I will turn thee when I'm not thought upon.  Enter Ralph Trapdore: 
Now sirrah what are you, leave your ape's tricks and speak.  Trap. 
A letter from my Captain to your Worship.  Alex. 
Oh, oh, now I remember 'tis to prefer thee into my service.  Trap. 
To be a shifter under your worship's nose of a clean trencher, when there's a good bit upon't.  Alex. 
Troth honest fellow— humh— ha— let me see,  
This knave shall be the axe to hew that down  
At which I stumble, has a face that promiseth  
Much of a villain, I will grind his wit,  
And if the edge prove fine make use of it.  
Come hither sirrah, canst thou be secret, ha.  Trap. 
As two crafty Attorneys plotting the undoing of their clients.  Alex. 
Didst never, as thou hast walked about this town  
Hear of a wench called Moll, mad merry Moll.  Trap. 
Moll cutpurse sir.  Alex. 
The same, dost thou know her then,  Trap. 
as well as I know 'twill rain upon Simon and judes day next, I will sift all the taverns i'th' city, and drink half pots with all the Watermen ath bankside, but if you will sir I'll find her out.  Alex. 
That task is easy, do't then, hold thy hand up.  
What's this, be't burnt?  Trap. 
No sir no, a little singed with making fire works.  Alex. 
there's money, spend it, that being spent fetch more.  Trap. 
Oh sir that all the poor soldiers in England had such a leader. For fetching no water Spaniel is like me.  Alex. 
This wench we speak of, strays so from her kind  
Nature repents she made her. 'tis a Mermaid  
Has told my son to shipwreck.  Trap. 
I'll cut her comb for you.  Alex. 
I'll tell out gold for thee then: hunt her forth,  
Cast out a line hung full of silver hooks  
To catch her to thy company: deep spendings  
May draw her that's most chaste to a man's bosom.  Trap. 
The jingling of Golden bells, and a good fool with a hobby-horse, will draw all the whores i'th' town to dance in a morris,  Alex. 
Or rather, for that's best, (they say sometimes  
She goes in breeches) follow her as her man.  Trap. 
And when her breeches are off, she shall follow me.  Alex. 
Beat all thy brains to serve her.  Trap. 
Zounds sir, as country wenches beat cream, till butter comes.  Alex. 
Play thou the subtle spider, weave fine nets  
To ensnare her very life.  Trap. 
Her life.  Alex. 
Yes suck  
Her heart-blood if thou canst, twist thou but cords  
To catch her, I'll find law to hang her up.  Trap. 
Spoke like a Worshipful bencher.  Alex. 
Trace all her steps: at this she-fox's den  
Watch what lambs enter: let me play the shepherd  
To save their throats from bleeding, and cut hers.  Trap. 
This is the goll shall do't.  Alex. 
Be firm and gain me  
Ever thine own. This done I entertain thee:  
How is thy name.  Trap. 
My name sir is Raph Trapdore, honest Raph.  Alex. 
Trapdore, be like thy name, a dangerous step  
For her to venture on, but unto me.  Trap. 
As fast as your sole to your boot or shoe sir.  Alex. 
Hence then, be little seen here as thou canst.  
I'll still be at thine elbow.  Trap. 
The trapdoors set.  
Moll if you budge you're gone: this me shall crown,  
A Roaring Boy, the Roaring Girl puts down,  Alex. 
God a mercy, lose no time.  Exeunt. The three shops open in a rank: the first a Pothecary's shop, the next a Feather shop: the third a sempster's shop: Mistress Gallipot in the first, Mistress Tiltyard in the next, Master Openworke and his wife in the third, to them enters Laxton, Goshawk and Greenwit. Mi. Open. 
Gentlemen what be't you lack. What be't you buy, see fine bands and ruffs, fine lawns, fine cambrics, what be't you lack Gentlemen, what be't you buy?  Lax. 
Yonder's the shop.  Gosh. 
Is that she.  Lax. 
Peace.  Green 
She that minces Tobacco.  Lax. 
I: she's a Gentlewoman borne I can tell you, though it be her hard fortune now to shred Indian potherbs.  Gosh. 
Oh sir 'tis many a good woman's fortune, when her husband turns bankrupt, to begin with pipes and set up again.  Lax. 
And indeed the raising of the woman is the lifting up of the man's head at all times, if one flourish, other will bud as fast I warrant ye.  Gosh. 
Come thouart familiarly acquainted there, I grope that.  Lax. 
And you grope no better i'th' dark you may chance lie i'th' ditch when you're drunk.  Gosh. 
Go thouart a mystical lecher.  Lax. 
I will not deny but my credit may take up an ounce of pure smoke.  Gosh. 
May take up an ell of pure smock; away go, 'tis the closest striker. Life I think he commits venery 40 foot deep, no man's aware on't, I like a palpable smockster go to work so openly, with the tricks of art, that I'm as apparently seen as a naked boy in a vial, & were it not for a gift of treachery that I have in me to betray my friend when he puts most trust in me (mass yonder he is too—) and by his injury to make good my access to her, I should appear as defective in courting, as a farmer's son the first day of his feather, that doth nothing at Court, but woe the hangings and glass windows for a month together, and some broken waiting woman for ever after. I find those imperfections in my venery, that were't not for flattery and falsehood, I should want discourse and impudence, and he that wants impudence among women, is worthy to be kicked out at bed's feet.— He shall not see me yet.  Greene. 
Troth this is finely shred.  Lax. 
Oh women are the bèst mincers.  Mist. Gal. 
'Thad been a good phrase for a cook's wife sir.  Lax. 
But 'twill serve generally, like the front of a new Almanac; as thus: Calculated for the meridian of cook's wives, but generally for all Englishwomen.  Mist. Gal. 
Nay you shall hait sir, I have filled it for you.  she puts it to the fire. Lax. 
The pipe's in a good hand, and I wish mine always so.  Gree. 
But not to be used a that fashion.  Lax. 
O pardon me sir, I understand no french.  
I pray be covered. Jack a pipe of rich smoke.  Gosh. 
Rich smoke; that's 6. pence a pipe be't?  Green. 
To me sweet Lady.  Mist. Gal. 
Be not forgetful; respect my credit; seem strange;  
Art and Wit makes a fool of suspicion:— pray be wary.  Lax. 
Push, I warrant you:— come, how be't gallants?  Green. 
Pure and excellent.  Lax. 
I thought 'twas good, you were grown so silent; you are like those that love not to talk at victuals, though they make a worse noise i'the nose then a common fiddlers prentice, and discourse a whole Supper with snuffling;— I must speak a word with you anon.  Mist. Gal. 
Make your way wisely then. (ners,  Gosh. 
Oh what else sir, he's perfection itself, full of man-  
But not an acre of ground belonging to 'em.  Green. 
I and full of form, h'as ne'er a good stool in's chamber.  Gosh. 
But above all religious: he prayeth daily upon elder brothers.  Green. 
And valiant above measure; h'as run three streets from a Sergeant.  Lax. 
Puh, Puh.  he blows tobacco in their faces. Green. Gosh. 
Oh, puh, ho, ho.  Lax. 
So, so.  Mist. Gal. 
What's the matter now sir?  Lax. 
I protest I'm in extreme want of money, if you can supply me now with any means, you do me the greatest pleasure, next to the bounty of your love, as ever poor gentleman tasted.  Mist. Gal. 
What's the sum would pleasure ye sir?  
Though you deserve nothing less at my hands.  Lax. 
Why 'tis but for want of opportunity thou know'st; I put her off with opportunity still: by this light I hate her, but for means to keep me in fashion with gallants; for what I take from her, I spend upon other wenches, bear her in hand still; she has wit enough to rob her husband, and I ways enough to consume the money: why how now? what the chincough?  Gosh. 
Thou hast the cowardliest trick to come before a man's face and strangle him ere he be aware, I could find in my heart to make a quarrel in earnest.  Lax. 
Pox and thou dost, thou know'st I never use to fight with my friends, thou'lt but lose thy labour in't. Jack Dapper!  Enter I. Dapper, and his man Gull. Greene. 
monsieur Dapper, I dive down to your ankles.  I. Dap. 
Save ye gentlemen all three in a peculiar salute.  Gosh. 
He were ill to make a lawyer, he dispatches three at once.  Lax. 
So well said: but is this of the same Tobacco mistress Gallipot?  M. Gal. 
The same you had at first sir.  Lax. 
I wish it no better: this will serve to drink at my chamber.  Gosh. 
Shall we taste a pipe on't?  Lax. 
Not of this by my troth Gentlemen, I have sworn before you.  Gosh. 
What not Jack dapper.  Lax. 
Pardon me sweet Jack, I'm sorry I made such a rash oath, but foolish oaths must stand: where art going Jack.  Iac. Dap. 
Faith to buy one feather.  Lax. 
One feather, the fool's peculiar still.  Iac. Dap. 
Gul.  Gul. 
Master.  Iac. Dap. 
here's three halfpence for your ordinary, boy, meet me an hour hence in Paul's.  Gul. 
How three single halfpence; life, this will scarce serve a man in sauce, a halporth of mustard, a halporth of oil, and a halporth of vinegar, what's left then for the pickle herring: this shows like final beer i'th' morning after a great surfeit of wine o'er night, he could spend his three pound last night in a supper amongst girls and brave bawdy-house boys, I thought his pockets cackled not for nothing, these are the eggs of three pound, I'll go sup'em up presently.  Exit Gul. Lax. 
Fight, nine, ten Angles, good wench i'faith, and one that loves darkness well, she puts out a candle with the best tricks of any drugster's wife in England: but that which mads her I rail upon opportunity still, and take no notice on't. The other night she would needs lead me into a room with a candle in her hand to show me a naked picture, where no sooner entered but the candle was sent of an arrant: now I not intending to understand her, but like a puny at the Inns of venery, called for another light innocently, thus reward I all her cunning with simple mistaking. I know she cozens her husband to keep me, and I'll keep her honest, as long as I can, to make the poor man some part of amends, an honest mind of a whoremaster, how think you amongst you, what a fresh pipe, draw in a third man.  Gosh. 
No your a hoarder, you engross byth' ounces.  At the Feather shop now. Iac. Dap. 
Puh I like it not.  M. Tiltyard 
What feather be't you'd have sir.  
These are most worn and most in fashion,  
Amongst the Beaver gallants the stone Riders.  
The private stage's audience, the twelve penny stool Gentlemen,  
I can inform you 'tis the general feather.  Iac. Dap. 
And therefore I mislike it, tell me of general.  
Now a continual Simon and judes rain  
Beat all your feathers as flat down as pancakes.  
Show me—— a— spangled feather,  Mist. Tilt. 
Oh to go a feasting with,  
You'd have it for a hench boy, you shall.  At the sempster's shop now. Maist. Open. 
Mass I had quite forgot,  
His honour's footman was here last night wife,  
ha' you done with my Lord's shirt.  Mist. Open. 
What's that to you sir,  
I was this morning at his honour's lodging,  
Ere such a snake as you crept out of your shell.  Maist. Open. 
Oh 'twas well done good wife.  Mt. Op. 
I hold it better sir, then if you had done't yourself.  Ma. Op. 
Nay so say I: but is the countess's smock almost done mouse.  Mi. Op. 
Here lies the cambric sir, but wants I fear me.  Ma. Op. 
I'll resolve you of that presently,  Mi. Op. 
Haida, oh audacious groom,  
Dare you presume to noble women's linen,  
Keep you your yard to measure shepherds holland,  
I must confine you I see that.  At the Tobacco shop now. Gosh. 
What say you to this gear.  Lax. 
I dare the arrant'st critic in Tobacco  
To lay one fault upon't.  Enter Mol in a freeze Jerkin and a black safeguard. Gosh. 
Life yonder's Moll.  Lax. 
Moll which Moll.  Gosh. 
honest Moll.  Lax. 
Prithee let's call her— Moll.  All. 
Moll, Moll, pist Moll.  Mol. 
How now, what's the matter.  Gosh. 
A pipe of good tobacco Moll.  Mol. 
I cannot stay.  Gosh. 
Nay Moll puh, prithee hark, but one word i'faith.  Mol. 
Well what be't.  Green. 
Prithee come hither sirrah.  Lax. 
Heart I would give but too much money to be nibbling with that wench, life, sh'as the Spirit of four great parishes, and a voice that will drown all the City, methinks a brave Captain might get all his soldiers upon her, and near be beholding to a company of mile-end milk sops, if he could come on, and come off quick enough: Such a Moll were a marrowbone before an Italian, he would cry bona roba till his ribs were nothing but bone. I'll lay hard siege to her, money is that Aqua fortis, that eats into many a maidenhead, where the walls are flesh & blood I'll ever pierce through with a golden auger.  Gosh. 
Now thy judgement Moll, be't not good?  Mol. 
Yes faith 'tis very good tobacco, how do you sell an an ounce, farewell. God b'y you Mistress Gallipot,  Gosh. 
Why Moll, Mol.  Mol. 
I cannot stay now i'faith, I am going to buy a shag cuff, the shop will be shut in presently.  Gosh. 
'tis the maddest fantasticalst girl:— I never knew so much flesh and so much nimbleness put together.  Lax. 
she slips from one company to another, like a fat Eel between a Dutchman's fingers:— I'll watch my time for her.  Mist. Gal. 
Some will not stick to say she's a man  
And some both man and woman.  Lax. 
That were excellent, she might first cuckold the husband and then make him do as much for the wife.  The Feather shop again. Moll. 
Save you; how does Mistress Tiltyard?  I. Dap. 
Moll.  Mol. 
Jack Dappper.  I. Dap. 
How dost Moll.  Mol. 
I'll tell thee by and by, I go but toth' next shop.  I. Dap. 
Thou shalt find me here this hour about a feather.  Mol. 
Nay and a feather hold you in play a whole hour, a goose will last you all the days of your life. Let me see a good shag ruff.  The Sempster shop. Maist. Open. 
Mistress Marry that shalt thou i'faith, and the best in the shop.  Mist. Open. 
How now, greetings, love terms with a pox between you, have I found out one of your haunts, I send you for hollands, and you're i'th' the low countries with a mischief, I'm served with good ware byth' shift, that makes it lie dead so long upon my hands, I were as good shut up shop, for when I open it I take nothing.  Maist. Open. 
Nay and you fall a ringing once the devil cannot stop you, I'll out of the Belfry as fast as I can— Moll.  Mist. Open. 
Get you from my shop.  Mol. 
I come to buy. (shop  Mist. Open. 
I'll sell ye nothing, I warn ye my house and  Mol. 
You goody Openwork, you that prick out a poor living  
And sows many a bawdy skin-coat together,  
Thou private panderess between shirt and smock,  
I wish thee for a minute but a man:  
Thou shouldst never use more shapes, but as thouart  
I pity my revenge, now my spleens up,  Enter a fellow with a long rapier by his side. 
I would not mock it willingly— ha be thankful.  
Now I forgive thee.  Mist. Open. 
marry hang thee, I never asked forgiveness in my life.  Mol. 
You goodman swinesface.  Fellow 
What will you murder me.  Mol. 
You remember slave, how you abused me tother night in a Tavern.  Fel. 
Not I by this light.  Mol. 
No, but by candlelight you did, you have tricks to save your oaths, reservations have you, and I have reserved somewhat for you,— as you like that call for more, you know the sign again.  Fel. 
Pox an't, had I brought any company along with me to have borne witless on't, 'twould ne'er have grieved me, but to be struck and nobody by, 'tis my ill fortune still, why tread upon a worm they say 'twill turn tail, but indeed a Gentleman should have more manners.  Exit fellow. Lax. 
Gallantly performed ifath Moll, and manfully, I love thee for ever for't, base rogue, had he offered but the least counterbuff, by this hand I was prepared for him.  Mol. 
You prepared for him, why should you be prepared for him, was he any more than a man.  Lax. 
No nor so much by a yard and a handful London measure..  Moll. 
Why do you speak this then, do you think I cannot ride a stone horse, unless one lead him byth' snaffle.  Lax. 
Yes and sit him bravely, I know thou canst Moll, 'twas but an honest mistake through love, and I'll make amends for't any way, prithee sweet plump Moll, when shall thou and I go out a town together.  Mol. 
Whether to Tyburn prithee.  Lax. 
Mass that's out a town indeed, thou hangest so many jests upon thy friends still. I mean honestly to Brainford, stains or Ware.  Mol. 
What to do there.  Lax. 
Nothing but be merry and lie together, I'll hire a coach with four horses.  Mol. 
I thought 'twould be a beastly journey, you may leave out one well, three horses will serve, if I play the jade myself.  Lax. 
Nay push thouart such another kicking wench, prithee be kind and let's meet.  Mol. 
'tis hard but we shall meet sir.  Lax. 
Nay but appoint the place then, there's ten Angels in fair gold Moll, you see I do not trifle with you, do but say thou wilt meet me, and I'll have a coach ready for thee.  Mol. 
Why here's my hand I'll meet you sir.  Lax. 
Oh good gold,— the place sweet Moll.  Mol. 
It shall be your appointment.  Lax. 
Somewhat near Holborn Moll.  Mol. 
In Grays-Inn fields then.  Lax. 
A match.  Mol. 
I'll meet you there.  Lax. 
The hour.  Mol. 
Three.  Lax. 
That will be time enough to sup at Brainford.  Fall from them to the other. Ma. Op. 
I am of such a nature sir, I cannot endure the house when she scolds, sh'has a tongue will be hard further in a still morning than Saint Antlings-bell, she rails upon me for foreign wenching, that I being a freeman must needs keep a whore i'th' suburbs, and seek to impoverish the liberties, when we fall out, I trouble you still to make all whole with my wife.  Gosh. 
No trouble at all, 'tis a pleasure to me to join things together.  Maist. Open. 
Go thy ways, I do this but to try thy honesty Goshawk.  The Feather shop. Iac. Dap. 
How lik'st thou this Moll.  Mol. 
Oh singularly, you're fitted now for a bunch, he looks for all the world with those spangled feathers like a nobleman's bedpost: The purity of your wench would I fain try, she seems like Kent unconquered, and I believe as many wiles are in her— oh the gallants of these times are shallow lechers, they put not their courtship home enough to a wench, 'tis impossible to know what woman is thoroughly honest, because she's near thoroughly tried, I am of that certain belief there are more queans in this town of their own making, then of any man's provoking, where lies the slackness then? many a poor soul would down, and there's nobody will push Women are courted but near soundly tried, ('em: As many walk in spurs that never ride.  The sempster's shop. Mrs., Open. 
Oh abominable.  Gosh. 
Nay more I tell you in private, he keeps a whore i'th' suburbs.  Mist. Open. 
O spital dealing, I came to him a Gentlewoman borne. I'll show you mine arms when you please sir.  Gosh. 
I had rather see your legs, and begin that way.  Mist. Openworke 
'tis well known he took me from a Lady's service, where I was well beloved of the steward, I had my latin tongue, and a spice of the French before I came to him, and now doth he keep a suburbian whore under my nostrils.  Gosh. 
There's ways enough to cry quite with him, hark in thine ear.  Mist. Open. 
There's a friend worth a Million.  Mol 
I'll try one spear against your chastity Mist. Tiltyard  
Though it prove too short by the burgh.  Trap. 
Mass here she is. Enter Ralph Trapdore I'm bound already to serve her, though it be but a sluttish trick. Bless my hopeful young Mistress with long life and great limbs, send her the upper hand of all bailiffs, and their hungry adherents.  Mol. 
How now, what art thou?  Trap. 
A poor ebbing Gentleman, that would gladly wait for the young flood of your service.  Mol. 
My service! what should move you to offer your service to me sir?  Trap. 
The love I bear to your heroic spirit and masculine womanhood.  Mol. 
So sir, put case we should retain you to us, what parts are there in you for a Gentlewoman's service.  Trap. 
Of two kinds right Worshipful: movable, and immovable: movable to run of errands, and immovable to stand when you have occasion to use me.  Mol. 
What strength have you.  Trap. 
Strength Mistress Moll, I have gone up into a steeple, and stayed the great bell as 'thas been ringing; stopped a windmill going.  Mols trips up his heels he falls. Mol. 
And never struck down yourself.  Trap. 
Stood as upright as I do at this present.  Mol. 
Come I pardon you for this, it shall be no disgrace to you: I have struck up the heels of the high Germans size ere now,— what not stand.  Trap. 
I am of that nature where I love, I'll be at my mistress foot to do her service.  Mol. 
Why well said, but say your Mistress should receive injury, have you the spirit of fighting in you, durst you second her.  Trap. 
Life I have kept a bridge myself, and drove seven at a time before me.  Mol. 
I.  Trap. 
But they were all Lincolnshire bullocks by my troth.  aside. Mol. 
Well, meet me in Grays-Inn fields, between three and four this afternoon, and upon better consideration we'll retain you.  Trap. 
I humbly thank your good mistress-ship,  
I'll crack your neck for this kindness.  Exit Trapdore Lax. 
Remember three.  Mol meets Laxton Moll. 
Nay if I fail you hang me.  Lax. 
Good wench i'faith.  then Openworke. Moll. 
whose's this.  Maist. Open. 
'tis I Moll.  Moll. 
Prithee tend thy shop and prevent bastards.  Maist. Open. 
We'll have a pint of the same wine i'faith Moll.  The bell rings. Gosh. 
Hark the bell rings, come Gentlemen.  
Jack Dapper where shall's all munch.  Iae. Dap. 
I am for Parker's ordinary.  Lax. 
he's a good guest to'm, he deserves his board,  
He draws all the Gentlemen in a term time thither,  
we'll be your follower's jack, lead the way,  
Look you by my faith the fool has feathered his nest well.  Exeunt Gallants. Enter Master Gallipot, Master Tiltyard, and servants with water Spaniels and a duck. Maist. Tilt. 
Come shut up your shops, where's Master Openwork.  Mist. Gal. 
Nay ask not me Master Tiltyard.  Maist. Tilt. 
where's his water dog, puh— pist— hur— hur-pist  Maist. Gal. 
Come wenches come, we're going all to Hogsden.  Mist. Gal. 
To Hogsden husband.  Maist. Gal. 
I to Hogsden pigs nigh.  Mist. Gal. 
I'm not ready husband.  spits in the dog's mouth Maist. Gal. 
Faith that's well— hum— pist— pist.  Maist. Gal. 
Come Mistress Openwork you are so long.  Mist. Open. 
I have no joy of my life Master Gallipot.  Maist. Gal, 
Push, let your boy lead his water Spaniel along, and we'll show you the bravest sport at perilous pond, he trug, he trug, he trug, here's the best duck in England, except my wife, he, he, he, fetch, fetch, fetch, come let's away Of all the year this is the sportfulst day.  Enter Sebastian solus. Seb. 
If a man have a free will, where should the use  
More perfect shine then in his will to love.  
All creatures have their liberty in that,  Enter Sir Alexander and listens to him. 
Though else kept under servile yoke and fear,  
The very bondslave has his freedom there,  
Amongst a world of creatures voiced and silent.  
Must my desires wear fetters— yea are you  
So near, than I must break with my heart's truth;  
Meet grief at a back way— well: why suppose.  
The two lewd tongues of slander or of truth  
Pronounce Moll loathsome: if before my love  
She appear fair, what injury have I,  
I have the thing I like? in all things else  
Mine own eye guides me, and I find 'em prosper,  
Life what should ail it now? I know that man  
near truly loves, if he gainsay't he lies,  
That winks and marries with his father's eyes.  
I'll keep mine own wide open.  Enter Mol and a porter with a viallon his back. Alex. 
Here's brave wilfulness,  
'a made match, here she comes, they met a purpose.  Por. 
Must I carry this great fiddle to your chamber Mistress Mary.  Mol. 
Fiddle goodman hog-rubber, some of these porters bear so much for others, they have no time to carry wit for themselves.  Por. 
To your own chamber Mistress Mary.  Moll. 
Who'll hear an Ass speak: whither else goodman pageant-bearer: they're people of the worst memories.  Exit Porter. Seb. 
Why 'twere too great a burden love, to have them carry things in their minds, and at herther backs together.  Mol. 
Pardon me sir, I thought not you so near.  Alex. 
So, so, so.  Seb. 
I would be nearer to thee, and in that fashion,  
That makes the best part of all creatures honest.  
No otherwise I wish it.  Mol. 
Sir I am so poor to requite you, you must look for nothing but thanks of me, I have no humour to marry, I love to lie aboth sides ath bed myself; and again o'th' other side, a wife you know aught to be obedient, but I fear me I am too headstrong to obey, therefore I'll near go about it, I love you so well sir for your good will I'd be loath you should repent your bargain after, and therefore we'll near come together at first, I have the head now of myself, and am man enough for a woman, marriage is but a chopping and changing, where a maiden loses one head, and has a worse i'th' place.  Alex. 
The most comfortablest answer from a Roaring Girl, that ever mine ears drunk in.  Seb. 
This were enough now to affright a fool for ever from thee, when 'tis the music that I love thee for,  Alex. 
There's a boy spoils all again.  Mol. 
Believe it sir I am not of that disdainful temper, but  
I could love you faithfully.  Alex. 
A pox on you for that word. I like you not now,  
You're a cunning roarer I see that already.  Mol. 
But sleep upon this once more sir, you may chance shift a mind tomorrow, be not too hasty to wrong yourself, never while you live sir take a wife running, many have run out at heels that have done't: you see sir I speak against myself, and if every woman would deal with their suitor so honestly, poor younger brothers would not be so often guled with old cozening widows, that turn over all their wealth in trust to some kinsman, and make the poor Gentleman work hard for a pension, fare you well sir.  Seb. 
Nay prithee one word more.  Alex. 
How do I wrong this girl, she puts him of still.  Moll. 
Think upon this in cold blood sir, you make as much haste as if you were a going upon a sturgeon voyage, take deliberation sir, never choose a wife as if you were going to Virginia.  Seb. 
And so we parted, my too cursed fate.  Alex. 
She is but cunning, gives him longer time in't.  Enter a Tailor: Taylor 
Mistress Moll, Mistress Moll: so ho ho so ho.  Mol. 
There boy, there boy, what dost thou go a hawking after me with a red clout on thy finger.  Taylor 
I forgot to take measure on you for your new breeches.  Alex. 
Hoyda breeches, what will he marry a monster with two trinkets, what age is this? if the wife go in breeches, the man must wear long coats like a fool.  Mol. 
What fiddlings here, would not the old pattern have served your turn.  Taylor. 
You change the fashion, you say you'll have the great Dutch slop Mistress Mary.  Mol. 
Why sir I say so still.  Taylor. 
Your breeches then will take up a yard more.  Mol. 
Well pray look it be put in then.  Taylor. 
It shall stand round and full I warrant you,  Mol. 
Pray make 'em easy enough.  Taylor. 
I know my fault now, tother was somewhat stiff between the legs, I'll make these open enough I warrant you.  Alex. 
here's good gear towards, I have brought up my son to marry a Dutch slop,. and a French doublet, a codpiece daughter.  Taylor. 
So, I have gone as far as I can go.  Mol. 
Why then farewell.  Taylor. 
If you go presently to your chamber Mistress Marry, pray send me the measure of your thigh, by some honest body.  Mol. 
Well sir, I'll send it by a Porter presently.  Exit Mol. Taylor. 
So you had need, it is a lusty one, both of them would make any porters back ache in England.  Exit Taylor. Seb. 
I have examined the best part of man,  
Reason and judgement, and in love they tell me,  
They leave me uncontrolled, he that is swayed  
By an unfeeling blood, past heat of love  
His spring time must needs err, his watch near goes right  
That sets his dial by a rusty clock,  Alex. 
So, and which is that rusty clock sir you.  Seb. 
The clock at Ludgate sir, it near goes true.  Alex. 
But thou goest falser: not thy father's cares  
Can keep thee right, when that insensible work,  
Obeys the workman's art, let's off the hour  
And stops again when time is satisfied,  
But thou run'st on, and judgement, thy main wheel,  
Beats by all stops, as if the work would break  
Begun with long pains for a minute's ruin,  
Much like a suffering man brought up with care.  
At last bequeathed to shame and a short prayer,  Seb. 
I taste you bitterer than I can deserve sir.  Alex. 
Who has bewitch thee son, what devil or drug,  
Hath wrought upon the weakness of thy blood,  
And betrayed all her hopes to ruinous folly?  
Oh wake from drowsy and enchanted shame,  
Wherein thy soul sits with a golden dream  
Flattered and poisoned, I am old my son, (mine own  
Oh let me prevail quickly, for I have weightier business of  
Then to chide thee: I must not to my grave,  
As a drunkard to his bed, whereon he lies  
Only to sleep, and never cares to rise,  
Let me dispatch in time, come no more near her.  Seb. 
Not honestly, not in the way of marriage,  Alex. 
What sayst thou marriage, in what place, the session's house, and who shall give the bride, prithee, an indictment.  Seb. 
Sir now ye take part with the world to wrong her.  Alex. 
Why, wouldst thou fain marry to be pointed at,  
Alas the numbers great, do not o'er burden't,  
Why as good marry a beacon on a hill,  
Which all the country fix their eyes upon  
As her thy folly dotes on. If thou longest  
To have the story of thy infamous fortunes,  
Serve for discourse in ordinaries and taverns  
thouart in the way: or to confound thy name,  
Keep on, thou canst not miss it: or to strike  
Thy wretched father to untimely coldness,  
Keep the left hand still, it will bring thee to't.  
Yet if no tears wrung from thy father's eyes,  
Nor sighs that fly in sparkles, from his sorrows,  
Had power to alter what is wilful in thee,  
methinks her very name should fright thee from her,  
And never trouble me.  Seb. 
Why is the name of Moll so fatal sir.  Alex. 
Many one sir, where suspect is entered,  
For seek all London from one end to tother,  
More whores of that name, then of any ten other.  Seb. 
What's that to her? let those blush for themselves.  
Can any guilt in others condemn her?  
I've vowed to love her: let all storms oppose me,  
That ever beat against the breast of man,  
Nothing but death's black tempest shall divide us.  Alex. 
Oh folly that can dote on nought but shame.  Seb. 
Put case a wanton itch runs through one name  
More than another, is that name the worse,  
Where honesty sits possessed in't? it should rather  
Appear more excellent, and deserve more praise,  
When through foul mists a brightness it can raise.  
Why there are of the devils, honest Gentlemen,  
And well descended, keep an open house,  
And some ath (good man's) that are arrant knaves.  
He hates unworthily, that by rote contemns,  
For the name neither saves, nor yet condemns,  
And for her honesty, I have made such proof an't,  
In several forms, so nearly watched her ways,  
I will maintain that strict, against an army,  
Excepting you my father: here's her worst,  
Sh'has a bold spirit that mingles with mankind,  
But nothing else comes near it: and oftentimes  
Through her apparel somewhat shames her birth,  
But she is loose in nothing but in mirth,  
Would all molls were no worse.  Alex. 
This way I toil in vain and give but aim  
To infamy and ruin: he will fall,  
My blessing cannot stay him: all my joys  
Stand at the brink of a devouring flood  
And will be wilfully swallowed: wilfully.  
But why so vain, let all these tears be lost,  
I'll pursue her to shame, and so als crossed.  Exit Sir Alexander Seb. 
He is gone with some strange purpose, whose effect  
Will hurt me little if he shoot so wide,  
To think I love so blindly: I but feed  
His heart to this match, to draw on th'other.  
Wherein my joy sits with a full wish crowned;  
Only his mood excepted which must change.  
By opposite policies, courses indirect,  
Plain dealing in this world takes no effect.  
This mad girl I'll acquaint with my intent,  
Get her assistance, make my fortunes known,  
Twixt lovers hearts, she's a fit instrument,  
And has the art to help them to their own,  
By her advise, for in that craft she's wise,  
My love and I may meet, spite of all spies.  Exit Sebastian. Enter Laxton in Grays-Inn fields with the Coachman. Lax. 
Coachman.  Coach. 
Here sir.  Lax. 
There's a tester more, prithee drive thy coach to the hither end of Marybone park, a fit place for Moll to get in.  Coach. 
Marybone park fir.  Lax. 
ay, it's in our way thou know'st.  Coach. 
It shall be done fir.  Lax. 
Coachman.  Coach. 
A non sir.  Lax. 
Are we fitted with good frampold jades.  Coach. 
The best in Smithfield I warrant your sir.  Lax. 
May we safely take the upper hand of any coached velvet cap or tuftaffety jacket, for they keep a wild swaggering in coaches now a days, the high ways are stopped with them.  Coach. 
My life for yours and baffle 'em to sir,— why they are the same jades believe it sir, that have drawn all your famous whores to Ware.  Lax. 
Nay then they know their business, they need no more instructions.  Coach. 
they're so used to such journeys sir, I never use whip to 'em; for if they catch but the scent of a wench once, they run like devils.  Exit Coachman with his whip. Lax. 
Fine Cerberus, that rogue will have the start of a thousand ones, for whilst others trot afoot, he'll ride prancing to hell upon a coach-horse.  
Stay, 'tis now about the hours of her appointment, but yet I see her not, hark what's this, one, two three, three by the clock 
The clock strikes three.  at Savoy, this is the hour, and Grays-Inn fields the place, she swore she'd meet me: ha yonder's two Inns a Court-man with one wench, but that's not she, they walk toward Islington out of my way, I see none yet dressed like her, I must look for a shag ruff, a freeze jerkin, a shortsword, and a safeguard, or I get none: why Moll prithee make haste, or the Coachman will curse us anon.  Enter Mol like a man. Mol. 
Oh here's my Gentleman: if they would keep their days as well with their Mercers as their hours with their harlots, no bankrupt would give seven score pound for a sergeant's place, for would you know a catchpole rightly derived, the corruption of a Citizen, is the generation of a sergeant, how his eye hawks for venery. Come are you ready sir.  Lax. 
Ready, for what sir.  Mol. 
Do you ask that now sir, why was this meeting pointed.  Lax. 
I thought you mistook me sir,  
You seem to be some young barrister,  
I have no suit in law— all my land's sold  
I praise heaven for't; 'thas rid me of much trouble,  Mol. 
Then I must wake you sir, where stands the coach,  Lax. 
whose's this, Moll: honest Moll.  Mol. 
So young, and purblind, your an old wanton in your eyes I see that.  Lax. 
thouart admirably suited for the three pigeons at Brainford, I'll swear I knew thee not.  Mol. 
I'll swear you did not: but you shall know me now.  Lax. 
No not here, we shall be spied efaith, the coach is better, come.  Mol. 
Stay.  Lax. 
What wilt thou untruss a point Moll.  she puts of her cloak and draws. Mol. 
Yes, here's the point that I untruss, 'thas but one tag, 'twill serve though to tie up a rogue's tongue.  Lax. 
How. (here's her pace,  Mol. 
There's the gold with which you hired your hackney,  
She racks hard, and perhaps your bones will feel it,  
Ten angels of mine own, I've put to thine, win 'em, & wear 'em,  Lax. 
Hold Moll, Mistress Mary.  Mol. 
Draw or I'll serve an execution on thee  
Shall lay thee up till dooms day.  Lax. 
Draw upon a woman, why what dost mean Moll?  Mol. 
To teach thy base thoughts manners: thouart one of those  
That thinks each woman thy fond flexible whore,  
If she but cast a liberal eye upon thee,  
Turn back her head, she's thine, or amongst company,  
By chance drink first to thee: then she's quite gone,  
There's no means to help her: nay for a need,  
Wilt swear unto thy credulous fellow lechers.  
That thouart more in favour with a Lady at first sight  
Then her monkey all her life time,  
How many of our sex, by such as thou  
Have their good thoughts paid with a blasted name  
That never deserved loosely or did trip  
In path of whoredom, beyond cup and lip.  
But for the stain of conscience and of soul,  
Better had women fall into the hands  
Of an act silent, than a bragging nothing,  
There's no mercy in't— what durst move you sir,  
To think me whorish? a name which I'd tear out  
From the high Germans throat, if it lay ledger there  
To dispatch privy slanders against me.  
In thee I defy all men, there worst hates,  
And their best flatteries, all their golden witchcrafts,  
With which they entangle the poor spirits of fools,  
Distressed needlewomen and trade-fallen wives.  
Fish that must needs bite, or themselves be bitten,  
Such hungry things as these may soon be took  
With a worm fastened on a golden hook.  
Those are the lechers food, his prey, he watches  
For quarreling wedlocks, and poor shifting sisters,  
'tis the best fish he takes: but why good fisherman,  
Am I thought meat for you, that never yet  
Had angling rod cast towards me? 'cause you'll say  
I'm given to sport, I'm often merry, jest,  
Had mirth no kindred in the world but lust?  
O shame take all her friends then: but howe'er  
Thou and the baser world censure my life,  
I'll send 'em word by thee, and write so much  
Upon thy breast, cause thou shalt bear't in mind,  
Tell them 'twere base to yield, where I have conquered.  
I scorn to prostitute myself to a man,  
I that can prostitute a man to me,  
And so I greet thee.  Lax. 
Hear me.  Mol. 
Would the spirits of all my slanders, were clasped in thine.  
That I might vex an army at one time,  Lax. 
I do repent me, hold,  They fight. Mol. 
You'll die the better Christian then.  Lax. 
I do confess I have wronged thee Moll.  Mol. 
Confession is but poor amends for wrong,  
Unless a rope would follow.  Lax. 
I ask thee pardon.  Mol. 
I'm your hired whore fir.  Lax. 
I yield both purse and body.  Mol. 
Both are mine, and now at my disposing.  Lax. 
Spare my life.  Mol. 
I scorn to strike thee basely.  Lax. 
Spoke like a noble girl i'faith.  
Heart I think I fight with a familiar, or the Ghost of a fencer, Sh'has wounded me gallantly, call you this a lecherous voyage? Here's blood would have served me this seven year in broken heads and cut fingers, & it now runs all out together, pox a'the three pigeons, I would the coach were here now to carry me to the Chirurgeons.  Exit Laxton. Mol. 
If I could meet my enemies one by one thus,  
I might make pretty shift with 'em in time,  
And make 'em know, she that has wit, and spirit,  
May scorn to live beholding to her body for meat,  
Or for apparel like your common dame,  
That makes shame get her clothes, to cover shame.  
Base is that mind, that kneels unto her body,  
As if a husband stood in awe on's wife,  
My spirit shall be Mistress of this house,  
As long as I have time in't.—— oh  Enter Trapdore. 
Here comes my man that would be: 'tis his hour.  
Faith a good well set fellow, if his spirit  
Be answerable to his umbles; he walks stiff,  
But whether he will stand to't stiffly, there's the point;  
Has a good calf for't, and ye shall have many a woman  
Choose him she means to meek her head, by his calf;  
I do not know their tricks in't, faith he seems  
A man without; I'll try what he is within,  Trap. 
she told me Graies-Inne fields twixt three & four,  
I'll fit her mistress-ship with a piece of service,  
I'm hired to rid the town of one mad girl.  she justles him 
What a pox ails you sir?  Mol. 
He begins like a Gentleman,  Trap. 
Heart, is the field so narrow, or your eyesight:  
Life he comes back again.  She comes towards him. Mol. 
Was this spoke to me sir.  Trap. 
I cannot tell sir.  Mol. 
Go you're a coxcomb.  Trap. 
Coxcomb.  Mol. 
You're a slave.  Trap. 
I hope there's law for you sir.  Mol. 
Ye, do you see sir.  Turn his hat. Trap. 
Heart this is no good dealing, pray let me know what house your off.  Mol. 
One of the Temple sir.  Philips him. Trap. 
Mass so methinks.  Mol. 
And yet sometime I lie about chick lane.  Trap. 
I like you the worse because you shift your lodging  
I'll not meddle with you for that trick sir. (so often  Mol. 
A good shift, but it shall not serve your turn.  Trap. 
You'll give me leave to pass about my business sir.  Mol. 
Your business, I'll make you wait on me before I ha' done, and glad to serve me too.  Trap. 
How sir, serve you, not if there were no more men in England.  Moll. 
But if there were no more women in England  
I hope you'd wait upon your Mistress then,  Trap. 
Mistress.  Mol. 
Oh your a tried spirit at a push sir,  Trap. 
What would your Worship have me do.  Mol. 
You a fighter.  Trap. 
No, I praise heaven, I had better grace & more manners.  Mol. 
As how I pray sir.  Trap. 
Life, 'thad been a beastly part of me to have drawn my weapons upon my Mistress, all the world would a cried shame of me for that.  Mol. 
Why but you knew me not.  Trap. 
Do not say so Mistress, I knew you by your wide straddle, as well as if I had been in your belly.  Mol. 
Well, we shall try you further, i'th' mean time we give you entertainment.  Trap. 
Thank your good mistress-ship.  Mol. 
How many suits have you.  Trap. 
No more suits than backs Mistress.  Mol. 
Well if you deserve, I cast of this, next week,  
And you may creep into't.  Trap. 
Thank your good Worship.  Mol. 
Come follow me to S. Thomas Apostles,  
I'll put a livery cloak upon your back, the first thing I do,  Trap. 
I follow my dear Mistress.  Exeunt omnes Enter Mistress Gallipot as from supper, her husband after her. Maist. Gal. 
What Pru, Nay sweet Prudence.  Mist. Gal. 
What a pruing keep you, I think the baby would have a teat it kyes so, pray be not so fond of me, leave your City humours, I'm vexed at you to see how like a calf you come bleating after me.  Maist. Gal. 
Nay honey Pru: how does your rising up before all the table show? and flinging from my friends so uncivilly, fie Pru, fie, come.  Mist. Gal. 
Then up and ride i'faith.  Maist. Gal. 
Up and ride, nay my pretty Pru, that's far from my thought, duck: why mouse, thy mind is nibbling at something, what's be't, what lies upon thy Stomach?  Mist. Gal. 
Such an ass as you: hoyda, you're best turn midwife, or Physician: you're a Pothecary already, but I'm none of your drugs.  Maist. Gal. 
Thou art a sweet drug, sweetest Pru, and the more thou art pounded, the more precious.  Mist. Gal. 
Must you be prying into a woman's secrets: say ye?  Maist. Gal. 
Woman's secrets.  Mist. Gal. 
What? I cannot have a qualm come upon me but your teeth waters, till your nose hang over it.  Maist. Gal. 
It is my love dear wife.  Mist. Gal. 
Your love? your love is all words; give me deeds, I cannot abide a man that's too fond over me, so cookish; thou dost not know how to handle a woman in her kind,  Maist. Gal. 
No Pru? why I hope I have handled.—  Mist. Gal. 
Handle a fools head of your own,— fie— fie.  Maist. Gal. 
Ha, ha, 'tis such a wasp; it does me good now to have her sing me, little rogue.  Mist. Gal. 
Now fie how you vex me, I cannot abide these apron husbands: such cotqueans, you overdo your things, they become you scurvily.  Maist. Gal. 
Upon my life she breeds, heaven knows how I have strained myself to please her, night and day: I wonder why we Citizens should get children so fretful and untoward in the breeding, their fathers being for the most part as gentle as milk kine: shall I leave thee my Pru.  Mist. Gal. 
Fie, fie, fie.  Maist. Gal. 
Thou shalt not be vexed no more, pretty kind rogue, take no cold sweet Pru.  Exit Maist. Gallipot. Mist. Gal. 
As your wit has done: now Master Laxton show your head, what news from you? would any husband suspect that a woman crying, Buy any scurvygrass, should bring love letters amongst her herbs to his wife, pretty trick, fine conveyance? had jealousy a thousand eyes, a silly woman with scurvygrass blinds them all; Laxton with bays crown I thy wit for this, it deserves praise.  
This makes me affect thee more, this proves thee wise,  
Lack what poor shift is love forced to devise? (toth' point)  She reads the letter. O Sweet Creature— (a sweet beginning) pardon my long absence, for thou shalt shortly be possessed with my presence; though Demophon was false to Phillis, I will be to thee as Pan-da-rus was to Cressida: though Eneus made an ass of Dido, I will die to thee ere I do so; o sweetest creature make much of me, for no man beneath the silver moon shall make more of a woman then I do of thee, furnish me therefore with thirty pounds, you must do it of necessity for me; I languish till I see some comfort come from thee, protesting not to die in thy debt, but rather to live so, as hitherto I have and will. Thy true Laxton ever. 
Alas poor Gentleman, troth I pity him,  
How shall I raise this money? thirty pound?  
'tis thirty sure, a 3 before an 0,  
I know his threes too well; my childbed linen?  
Shall I pawn that for him? then if my mark  
Be known I am undone; it may be thought  
My husband's bankrupt: which way shall I turn?  
Laxton, what with my own fears, and thy wants,  
I'm 〈◊〉 needle twixt two adamants.  Enter Master Gallipot hastily. Maist. Gal. 
Nay, nay, wife, the women are all up, ha, how, reading a letters? I smell a goose, a couple of capons, and a gammon of bacon from her mother out of the country, I hold my life,— steal,— steal.  Mist. Gal. 
O beshrew your heart.  Maist. Gal. 
What letter's that? I'll see't.  She tears the letter. Mist. Gal. 
Oh would thou hadst no eyes to see the downfall of me and thyself: I'm for ever, for ever I'm undone.  Maist. Gal. 
What ails my Pru? what paper's that thou tearest?  Mist. Gal. 
Would I could tear  
My very heart in pieces: for my soul  
Lies on the rack of shame, that tortures me  
Beyond a woman's suffering.  Maist. Gall: 
What means this?  Mist. Gall. 
Had you no other vengeance to throw down,  
But even in height of all my joys?  Maist. Gal. 
Dear woman.  Mist. Gal. 
When the full sea of pleasure and content seemed to flow over me.  Maist. Gal. 
As thou desirest to keep me out of bedlam, tell what troubles thee, is not thy child at nurse fallen sick, or dead?  Mist. Gal. 
Oh no.  Maist. Gal. 
heavens bless me, are my barns and houses  
Yonder at Hockly hole consumed with fire,  
I can build more, sweet Pru.  Mist. Gal. 
'tis worse, 'tis worse.  Maist. Gal. 
My factor broke, or is the jonas sunk.  Mist. Gal. 
Would all we had were swallowed in the waves,  
Rather than both should be the scorn of slaves.  Maist. Gal. 
I'm at my wit's end.  Mist. Gal. 
Oh my dear husband,  
Where once I thought myself a fixed star,  
Placed only in the heaven of thine arms,  
I fear now I shall prove a wanderer,  
Oh Laxton, Laxton, is it then my fate  
To be by thee o'erthrown?  Maist. Gal. 
Defend me wisdom,  
From falling into frenzy, on my knees. (thy bosom.  
Sweet Pru, speak, what's that Laxton who so heavy lies on  Mist. Gal. 
I shall sure run mad.  Maist. Gal. 
I shall run mad for company then: speak to me,  
I'm Gallipot thy husband,— Pru,— why Pru.  
Art sick in conscience for some villainous deed  
Thou wert about to act, didst mean to rob me,  
Tush I forgive thee, hast thou on my bed  
Thrust my soft pillow under another's head?  
I'll wink at all faults Pru, 'las that's no more,  
Then what some neighbours near thee, have done before,  
Sweet honey Pru, what's that Laxton?  Mist. Gall. 
Oh.  Maist. Gal. 
Out with him.  Mist. Gall. 
Oh he's borne to be my undoer,  
This hand which thou call'st thine, to him was given,  
To him was I made sure i'th' sight of heaven.  Maist. Gal. 
I never heard this thunder.  Mist. Gall. 
Yes, yes, before  
I was to thee contracted, to him I swore,  
Since last I saw him twelve months three times told,  
The Moon hath drawn through her light silver bow,  
For o'er the seas he went, and it was said,  
(But Rumor lies) that he in France was dead.  
But he's alive, oh he's alive, he sent,  
That letter to me, which in rage I rent,  
Swearing with oaths most damnably to have me,  
Or tear me from this bosom, oh heavens save me,  Maist. Gal. 
My heart will break,— shamed and undone for ever.  Mist. Gal. 
So black a day (poor wretch) went o'er thee never.  Maist. Gal. 
If thou shouldst wrestle with him at the law,  
thouart sure to fall, no odd slight, no prevention.  
I'll tell him thouart with child.  Mist. Gal. 
Umh.  Maist. Gall. 
Or give out one of my men was ta'en a-bed with thee.  Mist. Gal. 
umh, umh.  Maist. Gal. 
Before I lose thee my dear Pru;  
I'll drive it to that push.  Mist. Gal. 
Worse, and worse still,  
You embrace a mischief, to prevent an ill.  Maist. Gal. 
I'll buy thee of him, stop his mouth with Gold,  
Thinkest thou 'twill do.  Mist. Gall. 
Oh me, heavens grant it would,  
Yet now my senses are set more in tune,  
He writ, as I remember in his letter,  
That he in riding up and down had spent,  
(Ere he could find me) thirty pounds, send that,  
Stand not on thirty with him.  Maist. Gal. 
Forty Pru, say thou the word 'tis done, we venture lives for wealth, but must do more to keep our wives, thirty or forty Pru.  Mist. Gal. 
Thirty good sweet  
Of an ill bargain let's save what we can,  
I'll pay it him with my tears, he was a man  
When first I knew him of a meek spirit,  
All goodness is not yet dried up I hope.  Maist. Gall. 
He shall have thirty pound, let that stop all:  
Loves sweets taste best, when we have drunk down Gall.  Enter Master Tiltyard, and his wife, Master Goshawk, and Mistress Openworke. 
God's so, our friends; come, come, smooth your cheek;  
After a storm the face of heaven looks sleek.  Maist. Tilt. 
Did I not tell you these turtles were together?  Mist. Tilt. 
How dost thou sirrah? why sister Gallipot?  Mist. Open. 
Lord how she's changed?  Gosh. 
Is your wife ill sir?  Maist. Gal. 
Yes indeed la sir, very ill, very ill, never worse,  Mist. Tilt. 
How her head burns, feel how her pulses work.  Mist. Open. 
Sister lie down a little, that always does me good.  Mist. Tilt. 
In good sadness I find best ease in that too,  
Has she laid some hot thing to her Stomach?  Mist. Gal. 
No, but I will lay something anon.  Maist. Tilt. 
Come, come fools, you trouble her, shall's go Master Goshawk?  Gosh. 
Yes sweet Master Tiltyard; sirrah Rosamond I hold my life Gallipot hath vexed his wife.  Mist. Open. 
She has a horrible high colour indeed.  Gosh. 
we shall have your face painted with the same red soon at night, when your husband comes from his rubbers in a false alley; thou wilt not believe me that his bowls run with a wrong bias.  Mist. Open. 
It cannot sink into me, that he feeds upon stale mutton abroad, having better and fresher at home.  Gosh. 
What if I bring thee, where thou shalt see him stand at rack and manger?  Mist. Open. 
I'll saddle him in's kind, and spur him till he kick again.  Gosh. 
Shall thou and I ride our journey then.  Mist. Open. 
here's my hand.  Gosh. 
No more; come Master Tiltyard, shall we leap into the stirrups with our women, and amble home?  Maist. Tilt. 
Yes, yes, come wife.  Mist. Tilt. 
Introth sister, I hope you will do well for all this.  Mist. Gal. 
I hope I shall: farewell good sister: sweet Master Goshawk.  Maist. Gal. 
Welcome brother, most kindly welcome sir.  Omnes 
Thanks sir for our good cheer.  Exeunt all but Gallipot and his wife. Maist. Gal. 
It shall be so, because a crafty knave  
Shall not out reach me, nor walk by my door  
With my wife arm in arm, as 'twere his whore,  
I'll give him a golden coxcomb, thirty pound:  
Tush Pru what's thirty pound? sweet duck look cheerly.  Mist. Gal. 
Thou art worthy of my heart thou buy'st it dearly.  Enter Laxton muffled. Lax. 
Uds light the tide's against me, a pox of your apothecaryship: oh for some glister to set him going; 'tis one of Hercules' labours, to tread one of these City hens, because their cocks are still crowing over them; there's no turning tale here, I must on.  Mist. Gal. 
Oh, husband see he comes.  Maist. Gal. 
Let me deal with him.  Lax. 
Bless you sir.  Maist. Gal. 
Be you blessed too sir if you come in peace.  Lax. 
Have you any good pudding Tobacco sir?  Mist. Gal. 
Oh pick no quarrels gentle sir, my husband  
Is not a man of weapon, as you are,  
He knows all, I have opened all before him, concerning you.  Lax. 
zounds has she shown my letters.  Mrs. Gal. 
Suppose my case were yours, what would you do.  
At such a pinch, such batteries, such assaults▪  
Of father, mother, kindred, to dissolve  
The knot you tied, and to be bound to him?  
How could you shift this storm off?  Lax. 
If I know hang me.  Mist. Gal. 
Besides a story of your death was read  
Each minute to me.  Lax. 
What a pox means this riddling?  Maist. Gal. 
Be wise sir, let not you and I be tossed  
On lawyers pens; they have sharp nibs and draw  
Men's very heart blood from them; what need you sir  
To beat the drum of my wife's infamy,  
And call your friends together sir to prove  
Your precontact, when sh'has confessed it?  Lax. 
umh sir,— has she confessed it?  Maist. Gal. 
Sh'has i'faith to me sir, upon your letter sending.  M. be't. Gal. 
I have, I have.  Lax. 
If I let this iron cool call me slave,  
Do you hear, you dame Prudence? think'st thou vile woman  
I'll take these blows and wink?  Mist. Gal. 
Upon my knees.  Lax. 
Out impudence.  Maist. Gal. 
Good sir.  Lax. 
You goatish slaves,  
No wild foul to cut up but mine?  Maist. Gal. 
Alas sir,  
You make her flesh to tremble, fright her not,  
She shall do reason, and what's fit.  Lax. 
I'll have thee, wert thou more common  
Than an hospital, and more diseased.—  Maist. Gal. 
But one word good sir.  Lax. 
So sir.  Maist. Gal. 
I married her, have line with her, and got  
Two children on her body, think but on that;  
Have you so beggarly an appetite  
When I upon a dainty dish have fed  
To dine upon my scraps, my leavings? ha sir?  
Do I come near you vow sir?  Lax. 
Be Lady you touch me.  Maist. Gal. 
Would not you scorn to wear my clothes sir?  Lax. 
Right sir.  Maist. Gal. 
Then pray sir wear not her, for she's a garment  
So fitting for my body, I'm loath  
Another should put it on, you will undo both.  
Your letter (as she said) complained you had spent  
In quest of her, some thirty pound, I'll pay it;  
Shall that sir stop this gap up twixt you two?  Lax. 
Well if I swallow this wrong, let her thank you:  
The money being paid sir, I am gone:  
Farewell, oh women happy's he trusts none.  Mist. Gall. 
Dispatch him hence sweet husband.  Maist. Gal. 
Yes dear wife: pray sir come in, ere Master  
Thou shalt in wine drink to him,  Exit Master Gallipot and his wife. (Laxton part Mist. Gal. 
With all my heart;— how dost thou like my wit?  Lax. 
Rarely, that wile  
By which the Serpent did the first woman beguile,  
Did ever since, all women's bosoms fill;  
You're apple eaters all, deceivers still.  Exit Laxton. Enter Sir Alexander Wengraue: Sir Davy Dapper, Sir Adam Appleton, at one door, and Trapdore at another door. Alex. 
Out with your tale Sir Davy, to Sir Adam.  
A Knave is in mine eye deep in my debt.  Sir Da. 
Nay: if he be a knave sir, hold him fast.  Alex. 
Speak softly, what egg is there hatching now.  Trap. 
A duck's egg sir, a duck that has eaten a frog, I have cracked the shell, and some villainy or other will peep out presently; the duck that sits is the bouncing Ramp (that Roaring Girl my Mistress) the drake that must tread is your son Sebastian.  Alex. 
Be quick.  Trap. 
As the tongue of an oyster wench.  Alex. 
And see thy news be true.  Trap. 
As a barbers every Saturday night— mad Moll.  Alex. 
Ah.  Trap. 
Must be let in without knocking at your back gate.  Alex. 
So.  Trap. 
Your chamber will be made bawdy.  Alex. 
Good.  Trap. 
she comes in a shirt of male.  Alex. 
How shirt of male?  Trap. 
Yes sir or a male shirt, that's to say in man's apparel.  Alex. 
To my son.  Trap. 
Close to your son: your son and her Moon will be in conjunction, if all Alminacks lie not, her black safeguard is turned into a deep slop, the holes of her upper body to button holes, her waistcoat to a doublet, her placket to the ancient seat of a codpiece, and you shall take 'em both with standing collars.  Alex. 
Art sure of this?  Trap. 
As every throng is sure of a pickpocket, as sure as a whore is of the clients all Michaelmas Term, and of the pox after the Term.  Alex. 
The time of their tilting?  Trap. 
Three.  Alex. 
The day?  Trap. 
This.  Alex. 
Away ply it, watch her.  Trap. 
As the devil doth for the death of a bawd, I'll watch her, do you catch her.  Alex. 
she's fast: here weave thou the nets; hark,  Trap. 
They are made. (maintain't.  Alex. 
I told them thou didst owe me money; hold it up:  Trap. 
Stiffly; as a Puritan does contention,  
Fox I owe thee not the value of a halfpenny halter.  Alex. 
Thou shalt be hanged in't ere thou scape so.  
Varlet I'll make thee look through a grate.  Trap. 
I'll do't presently, through a Tavern grate, drawer: pish.  Exit Trapdore Adam. 
Has the knave vexed you sir?  Alex. 
Asked him my money,  
He swears my son received it: oh that boy  
Will near leave heaping sorrows on my heart,  
Till he has broke it quite.  Adam. 
Is he still wild?  Alex. 
As is a russian Bear.  Adam. 
But he has left  
His old haunt with that baggage.  Alex. 
Worse still and worse,  
He lays on me his shame, I on him my curse.  S. Dauy. 
My son Jack Dapper then shall run with him,  
All in one pasture.  Adam. 
Proves your son bade too sir?  S. Dauy. 
As villainy can make him: your Sebastian  
doors but on one drab, mine on a thousand,  
A noise of fiddlers, Tobacco, wine and a whore,  
A Mercer that will let him take up more,  
Dice, and a water spaniel with a Duck: oh,  
Bring him a-bed with these, when his purse jingles,  
Roaring boys follow at's tale, fencers and ningles,  
(Beasts Adam near gave name to) these horseleeches suck  
My son, he being drawn dry, they all live on smoke.  Alex. 
Tobacco?  S. Davy 
Right, but I have in my brain  
A windmill going that shall grind to dust  
The follies of my son, and make him wise,  
Or a stark fool; pray lend me your advise.  Both. 
That shall you good sir Davy.  S. Dauy. 
here's the spring  
iha' set to catch this woodcock in: an action  
In a false name (unknown to him) is entered.  
I'th' Counter to arrest Jack Dapper.  Both. 
Ha, ha, he.  S. Dauy. 
Think you the Counter cannot break him?  Adam. 
Break him?  
Yes and break's heart too if he lie there long.  S. Dauy. 
I'll make him sing a Counter tenor sure.  Adam. 
No way to tame him like it, there he shall learn  
What money is indeed, and how to spend it.  S. Dauy. 
he's bridled there.  Alex. 
ay, yet knows not how to mend it,  
Bedlam cures not more madmen in a year,  
Than one of the Counters does, men pay more dear  
There for there wit then anywhere; a Counter  
Why 'tis an university, who not sees?  
As scholars there, so here men take degrees,  
And follow the same studies (all alike.)  
scholars learn first Logic and Rhetoric.  
So does a prisoner; with fine honeyed speech  
At's first coming in he doth persuade, beseech,  
He may be lodged with one that is not itchy;  
To lie in a clean chamber, in sheets not lousy,  
But when he has no money, then does he try,  
By subtle Logic, and quaint sophistry,  
To make the keepers trust him.  Adam. 
Say they do.  Alex. 
Then he's a graduate.  S. Dauy. 
Say they trust him not,  Alex. 
Then is he held a freshman and a sot,  
And never shall commence, but being still barred  
Be expulsed from the masters side, toth' twopenny ward,  
Or else i'th' hole, beg placed.  Adam. 
When then I pray proceeds a prisoner.  Alex. 
When money being the theme,  
He can dispute with his hard creditors hearts,  
And get out clear, he's then a Master of Arts;  
Sir Davy send your son to Woodstreet College,  
A Gentleman can nowhere get more knowledge.  S. Dauy. 
There Gallants study hard.  Alex. 
True: to get money.  S. Dauy. 
'lies byth' heels i'faith, thanks, thanks, I ha' sent  
For a couple of bears shall paw him.  Enter sergeant Curtilax and Yeoman Hanger. Adam. 
Who comes yonder?  S. Dauy. 
They look like puttocks, these should be they.  Alex. 
I know 'em, they are officers, sir we'll leave you.  S. Dauy. 
My good knights.  
Leave me, you see I'm haunted now with spirits.  Both. 
Fare you well sir.  Exeunt Alex. and Adam, Curt. 
This old muzzle chops should be he  
By the fellows description: Save you sir.  S. Dauy. 
Come hither you mad varlets, did not my man tell you I watched here for you.  Curt. 
One in a blue coat sir told us, that in this place an old Gentleman would watch for us, a thing contrary to our oath, for we are to watch for every wicked member in a City.  S. Dauy. 
You'll watch then for ten thousand, what's thy name honesty?  Curt. 
Sergeant Curtilax I sir.  S. Dauy. 
An excellent name for a sergeant, Curtilax.  
Sergeants indeed are weapons of the law,  
When prodigal ruffians far in debt are grown,  
Should not you cut them; Citizens were o'erthrown,  
Thou dwellest hereby in Holborn Curtilax.  Curt. 
That's my circuit sir, I conjure most in that circle.  S. Dauy. 
And what young toward whelp is this?  Hang. 
Of the same litter, his yeoman sir, my name's Hanger.  S. Dauy. 
Yeoman Hanger.  
One pair of shears sure cut out both your coats,  
You have two names most dangerous to men's throats,  
You two are villainous loads on gentlemen's backs,  
Dear ware, this Hanger and this Curtilax.  Curt. 
We are as other men are sir, I cannot see but he who makes a show of honesty and religion, if his claws can fasten to his liking, he draws blood; all that live in the world, are but great fish and little fish, and feed upon one another, some eat up whole men, a sergeant cares but for the shoulder of a man, they call us knaves and curs, but many times he that sets us on, worries more lambs one year, than we do in seven.  S. Dauy. 
Spoke like a noble Cerberus, is the action entered?  Hang. 
His name is entered in the book of unbelievers.  S. Dauy. 
What book's that?  Curt. 
The book where all prisoners names stand, and not one amongst forty, when he comes in, believes to come out in haste.  S. Da. 
Be as dogged to him as your office allows you to be.  Both. 
Oh sir.  S. Dauy. 
You know the unthrift Jack Dapper.  Curt. 
ay, ay, sir, that Gull? as well as I know my yeoman.  S. Dauy. 
And you know his father too, Sir Davy Dapper?  Curt. 
As damned a usurer as ever was among Jews; if he were sure his father's skin would yield him any money, he would when he dies flay it off, and sell it to cover drums for children at Bartholmew fair.  S. Dauy. 
What toads are these to spit poison on a man to his face? do you see (my honest rascals?) yonder grayhound is the dog he hunts with, out of that Tavern Jack Dapper will sally sa, sa; give the counter, on, set upon him.  Both. 
we'll charge him upo'th' back sir.  S. Dauy. 
Take no bail, put mace enough into his caudle, double your files, traverse your ground.  Both. 
Brave sir.  S. Davy: 
Cry arm, arm, arm.  Both. 
Thus sir.  S. Dauy. 
There boy, there boy, away: look to your prey my true English wolves, and and so I vanish.  Exit S. Davy Curt. 
Some warden of the Sergeants begat this old fellow upon my life, stand close.  Hang. 
Shall the ambuscado lie in one place?  Curt. 
No uooke thou yonder.  Enter Mol and Trapdore. Mol. 
Ralph.  Trap. 
What says my brave Captain male and female?  Mol. 
This Holborn is such a wrangling street,  Trap. 
That's because lawyers walks to and fro in't.  Mol. 
here's such justling, as if every one we met were drunk and reeled.  Trap. 
Stand Mistress do you not smell carrion?  Mol. 
carrion? no, yet I spy ravens.  Trap. 
Some poor wind-shaken gallant will anon fall into sore labour, and these men-midwives must bring him to bed i'the counter, there all those that are great with child with debts, lie in.  Mol. 
Stand up.  Trap. 
Like your new maypole.  Hang. 
Whist, whew.  Curt. 
Hump, no.  Mol. 
Peeping? it shall go hard huntsmen, but I'll spoil your game, they look for all the world like two infected maltmen coming muffled up in their cloaks in a frosty morning to London.  Trap. 
A course, Captain; a bear comes to the stake.  Enter Jack Dapper and Gul. Mol. 
It should be so, for the dogs struggle to be let loose.  Hang. 
Whew.  Curt. 
Hemp.  Moll. 
Hark Trapdore, follow your leader.  Jack Dap. 
Gul.  Gul. 
Master.  Jack Dap. 
Didst ever see such an ass as I am boy?  Gul. 
No by my troth sir, to lose all your money, yet have false dice of your own, why 'tis as I saw a great fellow used tother day, he had a fair sword and buckler, and yet a butcher dry beat him with a cudgel.  Both. 
Honest Sergeant fly, fly Master Dapper you'll be arrested else.  Jack Dap. 
Run Gul and draw.  Gul. 
Run Master, Gull follows you.  Exit Dapper and Gull. Curt. 
I know you well enough, you're but a whore to hang upon any man.  Mol. 
Whores then are like sergeant, so now hang you, draw rogue, but strike not: for a broken pate they'll keep their beds, and recover twenty marks damages.  Curt. 
You shall pay for this rescue, run down shoelane and meet him.  Trap. 
Shu, is this a rescue Gentlemen or no?  Mol. 
Rescue? a pox on 'em, Trapdore let's away,  
I'm glad I have done perfect one good work today,  
If any Gentleman be in Scriveners bands,  
Send but for Moll, she'll bail him by these hands.  Exeunt. Enter Sir Alexander Wengraue solus. Alex. 
unhappy in the follies of a son,  
Led against judgement, sense, obedience,  
And all the powers of nobleness and wit;  Enter Trapdore 
Oh wretched father, now Trapdore will she come?  Trap. 
In man's apparel sir, I am in her heart now,  
And share in all her secrets.  Alex. 
Peace, peace, peace.  
Here take my German watch, hang't up in sight,  
That I may see her hang in English for't.  Trap. 
I warrant you for that now, next Sessions rids her sir,  
This watch will bring her in better than a hundred constables.  Alex. 
Good Trapdore sayst thou so, thou cheerest my heart  
After a storm of sorrow,— my gold chain too,  
Here take a hundred marks in yellow links.  Trap. 
That will do well to bring the watch to light sir.  
And worth a thousand of your headboroughs lanterns.  Alex. 
Place that a'the Court cubbart, let it lie  
Full in the view of her thief-whorish eye.  Trap. 
She cannot miss it sir, I see't so plain, that I could steal't myself.  Alex. 
Perhaps thou shalt too,  
That or something as weighty; what she leaves,  
Thou shalt come closely in, and filch away,  
And all the weight upon her back I'll lay.  Trap. 
You cannot assure that sir.  Alex. 
No, what lets it?  Trap. 
Being a stout girl, perhaps she'll desire pressing,  
Than all the weight must lie upon her belly.  Alex. 
Belly or back I care not so I've one.  Trap. 
You're of my mind for that sir.  Alex. 
Hang up my ruff band with the diamond at it,  
It may be she'll like that best.  Trap. 
It's well for her, that she must have her choice, he thinks nothing too good for her, if you hold on this mind a little longer, it shall be the first work I do to turn thief myself; would do a man good to be hanged when he is so well provided for.  Alex. 
So, well said; all hangs well, would she hung so too,  
The sight would please me more, than all their glisterings:  
Oh that my mysteries to such straits should run,  
That I must rob myself to bless my son.  Exeunt. Enter Sebastian, with Marry Fitz-Allard like a page, and Mol. Seb. 
Thou hast done me a kind office, without touch  
Either of sin or shame, our loves are honest.  Mol. 
I'd scorn to make such shift to bring you together else.  Seb. 
Now have I time and opportunity  
Without all fear to bid thee welcome love.  Kiss. Mary. 
Never with more desire and harder venture.  Mol. 
How strange this shows one man to kiss another.  Seb. 
I'd kiss such men to choose Moll,  
methinks a woman's lip tastes well in a doublet:  Mol. 
Many an old madam has the better fortune then,  
Whose breathes grew stale before the fashion came,  
If that will help 'em, as you think 'twill do,  
They'll learn in time to pluck on the hose too.  Seb. 
The older they wax Moll, troth I speak seriously,  
As some have a conceit their drink tastes better  
In an outlandish cup then in our own,  
So methinks every kiss she gives me now  
In this strange form, is worth a pair of two,  
Here we are safe, and furthest from the eye  
Of all suspicion, this is my father's chamber,  
Upon which floor he never steps till night.  
Here he mistrusts me not, nor I his coming,  
At mine own chamber he still pries unto me,  
My freedom is not there at mine own finding,  
Still checked and curbed, here he shall miss his purpose.  Mol. 
And what's your business now, you have your mind sir;  
At your great suit I promised you to come,  
I pitied her for name's sake, that a Moll  
Should be so crossed in love, when there's so many,  
That owes nine lays a piece, and not so little:  
My tailor fitted her, how like you his work?  Seb. 
So well, no Art can mend it, for this purpose,  
But to thy wit and help we're chief in debt,  
And must live still beholding.  Mol. 
Any honest pity  
I'm willing to bestow upon poor Ringdoves.  Seb. 
I'll offer no worse play.  Moll. 
Nay and you should sir,  
I should draw first and prove the quicker man,  Seb. 
Hold, there shall need no weapon at this meeting,  
But cause thou shalt not lose thy fury idle,  
Here take this vial, run upon the guts,  
And end thy quarrel singing.  Mol. 
Like a swan above bridge,  
For look you here's the bridge, and here am I.  Seb. 
Hold on sweet Moll.  Mary. 
I've heard her much commended sir, for one that was near taught.  Mol. 
I'm much beholding to 'em, well since you'll needs putus together sir, I'll play my part as well as I can; it shall near be said I came into a Gentleman's chamber, and let his instrument hang by the walls.  Seb. 
Why well said Moll i'faith, it had been a shame for that Gentleman then, that would have let it hung still, and near offered thee it.  Mol. 
There it should have been still then for Moll, for though the world judge impudently of me, I near came into that chamber yet, where I took down the instrument myself.  Seb. 
Pish let'em prate abroad, thouart here where thou art known and loved, there be a thousand close dames that will call the vial an unmannerly instrument for a woman, and therefore talk broadly of thee, when you shall have them sit wider to a worse quality.  Mol. 
Push, I ever fall asleep and think not of'em sir, and thus I dream.  Seb. 
Prithee let's hear thy dream Moll.  Mol. 
I dream there is a Mistress,  
And she lays out the money,  The song. 
she goes unto her Sisters,  
She never comes at any.  Enter Sir Alexander behind them She says she went toth' burse for patterns, You shall find her at Saint Katherns, And comes home with never a penny. Seb. 
That's a free Mistress i'faith.  Alex. 
ay, ay, ay, like her that sings it, one of thine own choosing.  Mol. 
But shall I dream again?  
Here comes a wench will brave ye,  
Her courage was so great,  
She lay with one o'the Navy,  
Her husband lying i'the Fleet.  
Yet oft with him she cavilled,  
I wonder what she ails,  
Her husband's ship lay gravelled,  
When hers could hoist up sails,  
Yet she began like all my foes,  
To call whore first: for so do those;  
A pox of all false tails.  Seb. 
Marry amen say I.  Alex. 
So say I too.  Mol. 
Hang up the vial now sir: all this while I was in a dream, one shall lie rudely then; but being awake, I keep my legs together; a watch, what's o'clock here.  Alex. 
Now, now, she's trapped.  Moll. 
Between one and two; nay then I care not: a watch and a physician are cousin Germanes in one thing, they must both keep time well, or there's no goodness in 'em, the one else deserves to be dashed against a wall, and other to have his brains knocked out with a fiddle case, what? a loose chain and a dangling Diamond.  
Here were a brave booty for an evening-thief now,  
There's many a younger brother would be glad  
To look twice in at a window for't,  
And wriggle in and out, like an eel in a sandbag,  
Oh if men's secret youthful faults should judge 'em,  
'T would be the general'st execution,  
That ere was seen in England; there would be but few left to sing the ballets, there would be so much work: most of our brokers would be chosen for hangmen, a good day for them: they might renew their wardrobes of free cost then.  Seb. 
This is the roaring wench must do us good.  Mary. 
No poison sir but serves us for some use, which is confirmed in her.  Seb. 
Peace, peace, foot I did here him sure, where ere he be.  Mol. 
Who did you hear?  Seb. 
My father, 'twas like a sight of his, I must be wary,  Alex. 
No wilt not be, am I alone so wretched  
That nothing takes? I'll put him to his plunge for't.  Seb. 
Life, here he comes,— sir I beseech you take it,  
Your way of teaching does so much content me,  
I'll make it four pound, here's forty shillings sir.  
I think I name it right: help me good Moll,  
Forty in hand.  Mol. 
Sir you shall pardon me,  
I have more of the meanest scholar I can teach,  
This pays me more, than you have offered yet.  Seb. 
At the next quarter  
When I receive the means my father 'allows me.  
You shall have other forty,  Alex. 
This were well now,  
Were't to a man, whose sorrows had blind eyes,  
But mine behold his follies and untruths,  
With two clear glasses— how now?  Seb. 
Sir.  Alex. 
What's he there?  Seb. 
You're come in good time sir, I've a suit to you,  
I'd crave your present kindness.  Alex. 
What is he there?  Seb. 
A Gentleman, a physician sir, one of excellent fingering.  Alex. 
ay, I think so, I wonder how they scaped her.  Seb. 
Has the most delicate stroke sir,  Alex. 
A stroke indeed, I feel it at my heart,  Seb. 
Puts down all your famous musicans.  Alex. 
ay, a whore may put down a hundred of 'em.  Seb. 
Forty shillings is the agreement sir between us,  
Now sir, my present means, mounts but to half on't.  Alex. 
And he stands upon the whole.  Seb. 
I indeed does he sir.  Alex. 
And will do still, he'll near be in other tail,  Seb. 
Therefore I'd stop his mouth sir, and I could,  Alex. 
Hum true, there is no other way indeed,  
His folly hardens, shame must needs succeed.  
Now sir I understand you profess music.  Mol. 
I am a poor servant to that liberal science sir.  Alex. 
Where is it you teach?  Mol. 
Right against Clifford's Inn.  Alex. 
Hum that's a fit place for it: you have many scholars.  Mol. 
And some of worth, whom I may call my masters.  Alex. 
I true, a company of whoremasters; you teach to sing too?  Mol. 
Marry do I sir.  Alex. 
I think you'll find an apt scholar of my son, especially for pricksong.  Mol. 
I have much hope of him.  Alex. 
I am sorry for't, I have the less for that: you can play any lesson.  Mol. 
At first sight sir.  Alex. 
There's a thing called the witch, can you play that?  Mol. 
I would be sorry any one should mend me in't.  Alex. 
ay, I believe thee, thou hast so bewitched my son,  
No care will mend the work that thou hast done,  
I have bethought myself since my art fails,  
I'll make her policy the Art to trap her.  
Here are four Angels marked with holes in them  
Fit for his cracked companions, gold he will give her,  
These will I make induction to her ruin,  
And rid shame from my house, grief from my heart  
Here son, in what you take content and pleasure,  
Want shall not curb you, pay the Gentleman  
His latter half in gold.  Seb. 
I thank you sir.  Alex. 
Oh may the operation an't, end three,  
In her, life: shame, in him; and grief, in me.  Exit Alexander. Seb. 
Faith thou shalt have'em 'tis my father's gift,  
Never was man beguiled with better shift.  Mol. 
He that can take me for a male physician,  
I cannot choose but make him my instrument,  
And play upon him.  Exeunt omnes. Enter Mistress Gallipot, and Mistress Openworke. Mi. Gal. 
Is then that bird of yours (Master Goshawk) so wild?  Mist. Open. 
A Goshawk, a Puttock; all for prey: he angles for fish, but he loves flesh better.  Mist. Gal. 
Is't possible his smooth face should have wrinkles in't, and we not see them?  Mist. Open. 
Possible? why have not many handsome legs in silk stockings villainous splay feet for all their great roses?  Mist. Gal. 
Troth sirrah thou sayst true.  Mist. Op. 
Didst never see an archer (as thou'st walked by Bun-hill) look asquint when he drew his bow?  Mist. Gal. 
Yes, when his arrows have flin'e toward Islington, his eyes have shot clean contrary towards Pimlico.  Mist. Open. 
For all the world so does Master Goshawk double with me.  Mist. Gal. 
Oh fie upon him, if he double once he's not for me.  Mist. Open. 
Because Goshawk goes in a shag-ruff band, with a face sticking up in't, which shows like an agate set in acrampe ring, he thinks I'm in love with him.  Mist. Gal. 
'Las I think he takes his mark amiss in thee.  Mist. Open. 
He has by often beating into me made me believe that my husband kept a whore.  Mist. Gal. 
Very good.  Mist. Open. 
Swore to me that my husband this very morning went in a boat with a  tilt over it, to the three pigeons at Brainford, and his punk with him under his tilt.  Mist. Gal. 
That were wholesome.  Mist. Open. 
I believed it, fell a swearing at him, cursing of harlots, made me ready to hoist up sail, and be there as soon as he.  Mist. Gal. 
So, so.  Mist. Open. 
And for that voyage Goshawk comes hither incontinently, but sirrah this water-spaniel dives after no duck but me, his hope is having me at Brainford to make me cry quack.  Mist. Gall. 
Art sure of it?  Mist. Open. 
Sure of it? my poor innocent Openwork came in as I was poking my ruff, presently hit I him i'the teeth with the three pigeons: he forswore all, I up and opened all, and now stands he (in a shop hard by) like a musket on a rest, to hit Goshawk i'the eye, when he comes to fetch me to the boat.  Mist. Gal. 
Such another lame Gelding offered to carry me through thick and thin, (Laxton sirrah) but I am rid of him now.  Mist. Open. 
Happy is the woman can be rid of 'em all; 'las what are your whisking gallants to our husbands, weigh 'em rightly man for man.  Mist. Gall. 
Troth mere shallow things.  Mist. Open. 
Idle simple things, running heads, and yet let 'em run over us never so fast, we shopkeepers (when all's done) are sure to have 'em in our pursnets at length, and when they are in, Lord what simple animals they are.  Mist. Open. 
Then they hang head.  Most. Gal. 
Then they droop.  Mist. Open. 
Then they write letters.  Mist. Gal. 
Then they cog.  Mist. Open. 
Then they deal under hand with us, and we must ingle with our husbands a-bed, and we must swear they are our cousins, and able to do us a pleasure at Court.  Mist. Gal. 
And yet when we have done our best, als but put into a riven dish, we are but frumped at and libeled upon.  Mist. Open. 
Oh if it were the good Lords will, there were a law made, no Citizen should trust any of'em all.  Enter Goshawk. Mist. Gal. 
Hush sirrah, Goshawk flutters.  Gosh. 
How now, are you ready?  Mist. Open. 
Nay are you ready? a little thing you see makes us ready.  Gosh. 
Us? why, must she make one i'the voyage?  Mist. Open. 
Oh by any means, do I know how my husband will handle me?  Gosh. 
'Foot, how shall I find water, to keep these two mills going? Well since you'll needs be clapped under hatches, if I sail not with you both till all split, hang me up at the main yard, & duck me; it's but lickering them both soundly, & then you shall see their cork heels fly up high, like two swans when their tails are above water, and their long necks under water, diving to catch gudgeons: come, come, oars stand ready, the tide's with us, on with those false faces, blow winds and thou shalt take thy husband, casting out his net to catch fresh Salmon at Brainford.  Mist. Gal. 
I believe you'll eat of a cods head of your own dressing, before you reach half way thither.  Gosh. 
So, so, follow close, pin as you go.  Enter Laxton muffled. Lax. 
Do you hear?  Mist. Gal. 
Yes, I thank my ears.  Lax. 
I must have a bout with your pothecaryship,  Mist. Gal. 
At what weapon?  Lax. 
I must speak with you.  Mist. Gal. 
No.  Lax 
No? you shall.  Mist. Gal. 
Shall? away soused Sturgeon, half fish, half flesh.  Lax. 
i'faith gib, are you spitting, I'll cut your tail puss-cat for this,  Mist. Gal. 
'Las poor Laxton, I think thy tail's cut already: your worst;  Lax. 
If I do not,—  Exit Laxton. Gosh. 
Come, ha'you done?  Enter Master Openworke. 
'sfoot Rosamond, your husband. welcome,  Maist. Open. 
How now? sweet mayst Goshawk, none more  
I have wanted your embracements: when friends meet,  
The music of the spheres sounds not more sweet,  
Then does their conference: who is this? Rosamond:  
Wife: how now sister?  Gosh. 
Silence if you love me.  Maist. Open. 
Why masked?  Mist. Open. 
Does a mask grieve you sir?  Maist. Open. 
It does.  Mist. Open. 
Then you're best get you a mumming.  Gosh. 
S'foot you'll spoil all.  Mist. Gall. 
May not we cover our bare faces with masks  
As well as you cover your bald heads with hats?  Ma. Op. 
No masks, why, theyare thieves to beauty, that rob  
Of admiration in which true love lies, (eyes  
Why are masks worn? why good? or why desired?  
Unless by their gay covers wits are fired  
To read the vildest looks; many bad faces,  
(Because rich gems are treasured up in cases)  
Pass by their privilege currant, but as caves  
damn miser's Gold, so masks are beauty's graves,  
Men near meet women with such muffled eyes,  
But they curse her, that first did masks devise,  
And swear it was some beldame. Come off with't.  Mist. Open. 
I will not.  Maist. Open. 
Good faces masked are jewels kept by spirits.  
Hide none but bad ones, for they poison men's sights,  
Show then as shopkeepers do their broidered stuff,  
(By owl light) fine wares cannot be open enough,  
Prithee (sweet Rose) come strike this sail.  Mist. Open. 
Sail? (eyes:  Maist. Op. 
Ha? yes wife strike sail, for storms are in thine  Mist. Open. 
theyare here sir in my brows if any rise.  Maist. Open. 
Ha brows? (what says she friend) pray tell me  
Your two flags were advanced; the Comedy, (why  
Come what's the Comedy?  Mist. Open. 
Westward hoe.  Maist. Open. 
How?  Mist. Open. 
'Tis Westward hoe she says.  Gosh. 
Are you both mad?  Mist. Open. 
Is't Market day at Brainford, and your ware not sent up yet?  Maist. Open. 
What market day? what ware?  Mist. Open. 
Apy with three pigeons in't, 'tis drawn and stays your cutting up.  Gosh. 
As you regard my credit.  Maist. Open. 
Art mad?  Mist. Open. 
Yes lecherous goat; Baboon.  Maist. Open. 
Baboon? then toss me in a blanket,  Mist. Open. 
Do I it well?  Mist. Gall. 
Rarely.  Gosh. 
Belike sir she's not well; best leave her.  Maist. Open. 
No,  
I'll stand the storm now how fierce soe'er it blow.  Mist. Open. 
Did I for this lose all my friends? refuse  
Rich hopes, and golden fortunes, to be made  
A stale to a common whore?  Maist. Open. 
This does amaze me.  Mist. Open. 
Oh God, oh God, feed at reversion now?  
A Strumpets leaving?  Maist. Open. 
Rosamond,  Gosh. 
I sweat, would I lay in cold harbour.  Mist. Open. 
Thou hast struck ten thousand daggers through my heart.  Maist. Open. 
Not I by heaven sweet wife. (thee  Mist. Open. 
Go devil go; that which thou swearest by, damns  Gosh. 
S'heart will you undo me?  Mist. Open. 
Why stay you here? the star, by which you sail, shines yonder above Chelsy; you lose your shore if this moon light you: seek out your light whore.  Maist. Open. 
Ha?  Mist. Gal. 
Push; your Western pug.  Gosh, 
Zounds now hell roars.  Mist. Open. 
With whom you tilted in a pair of oars, this very morning.  Maist. Open. 
Oars?  Mist. Open. 
At Brainford sir.  Maist. Open. 
Rack not my patience: Master Goshawk, some slave has buzzed this into her, has he not? I run a-tilt in Brainford with a woman? 'tis a lie: What old bawd tells thee this? 'Sdeath 'tis a lie.  Mist. Open. 
'Tis one to thy face shall justify all that I speak.  Maist. Open. 
ud'soul do but name that rascal.  Mist. Open. 
No sir I will not.  Gosh. 
Keep thee there girl:— then!  Mist. Open. 
Sister know you this varlet?  Mist. Gall. 
Yes.  Maist. Open. 
Swear true,  
Is there a rogue so low damned? a second judas? a common hangman? cutting a man's throat? does it to his face? bite me behind my back? a cur dog? swear if you know this hellhound.  Mist. Gall. 
In truth I do,  Maist. Open. 
His name?  Mist. Gall. 
Not for the world;  
To have you to stab him.  Gosh. 
Oh brave girls: worth Gold.  Maist. Open. 
A word honest master Goshawk.  Draw out his sword Gosh. 
What do you mean sir?  Maist. Open. 
Keep off, and if the devil can give a name to this new fury, holla it throng my ear, or wrap it up in some hid character: I'll ride to Oxford, and watch out mine eyes, but I'll hear the brazen head speak: or else show me but one hair of his head or beard, that I may sample it; if the fiend I meet (in mine own house) I'll kill him:— the street.  
Or at the Church door:— there— (cause he seeks to untie  
The knot God fastens) he deserves most to die.  Mist. Open. 
My husband titles him.  Maist. Open. 
Master Goshawk, pray sir  
Swear to me, that you know him or know him not, (wives,  
Who makes me at Brainford to take up a petticoat beside my  Gosh. 
By heaven that man I know not.  Mist. Open. 
Come, come, you lie.  Gosh. 
Will you not have all out?  
By heaven I know no man beneath the moon  
Should do you wrong, but if I had his name,  
I'd print it in text letters.  Mist. Open. 
Print thine own then,  
Didst not thou swear to me he kept his whore?  Mist. Gal. 
And that in sinful Brainford they would commit  
That which our lips did water at sir,— ha?  Mist. Open. 
Thou spider, that hast woven thy cunning web  
In mine own house t'ensnare me: hast not thou  
Sucked nourishment even underneath this roof,  
And turned it all to poison? spitting it,  
On thy friend's face (my husband?) he as 'twere sleeping:  
Only to leave him ugly to mine eyes,  
That they might glance on thee.  Mist. Gal. 
Speak, are these lies?  Gosh. 
Mine own shame me confounds:  Mist. Open. 
No more, he's stung;  
Who'd think that in one body there could dwell  
Deformity and beauty, (heaven and hell)  
Goodness I see is but outside, we all set,  
In rings of Gold, stones that be counterfeit:  
I thought you none.  Gosh. 
Pardon me.  Maist. Open. 
Truth I do.  
This blemish grows in nature not in you,  
For man's creation stick even moles in scorn  
On fairest cheeks, wife nothing is perfect borne.  Mist. Open. 
I thought you had been borne perfect.  Maist. Open. 
What's this whole world but a gilt rotten pill?  
For at the heart lies the old chore still.  
I'll tell you Master Goshawk, I in your eye  
I have seen wanton fire, and then to try  
The soundness of my judgement, I told you  
I kept a whore, made you believe 'twas true,  
Only to feel how your pulse beat, but find,  
The world can hardly yield a perfect friend.  
Come, come, a trick of youth, and 'tis forgiven,  
This rub put by, our love shall run more even.  Mist. Open, 
You'll deal upon men's wives no more?  Gosh. 
No:— you teach me a trick for that.  Mist. Open. 
Troth do not, they'll o'erreach thee.  Mai. Open. 
Make my house yours sir still.  Gosh. 
No.  Maist. Open. 
I say you shall:  
Seeing (thus besieged) it holds out, 'twill never fall.  Enter Master Gallipot, and Greenwit like a Somner, Laxton muffled a loofo off. Omnes 
How now?  Maist. Gall. 
With me sir?  Greene. 
You sir? I have gone snaffling up and down by your door this hour to watch for you.  Mist. Gall. 
What's the matter husband?  Greene. 
— I have caught a cold in my head sir, by sitting up late in the rose tavern, but I hope you understand my speech.  Maist. Gal. 
So sir.  Greene. 
I cite you by the name of Hippocrates Gallipot, and you by the name of Prudence Gallipot, to appear upon Crastino, do you see, Crastino sancti Dunstani (this Easter Term) in Bow Church.  Maist. Gall. 
Where sir? what says he?  Greene. 
Bow: Bow Church, to answer to a libel of precontract on the part and behalf of the said Prudence and another; you're best sir take a copy of the citation, 'tis but twelvepence.  Omnes 
A Citation?  Maist. Gal. 
You pocky-nosed rascal, what slave fees you to this?  Lax. 
Slave? I ha' nothing to do with you, do you hear sir?  Gosh. 
Laxton be't not?— what fagary is this?  Maist. Gal. 
Trust me I thought sir this storm long ago had been full laid, when (if you be remembered) I paid you the last fifteen pound, besides the thirty you had first,— for then you swore.  Lax. 
Tush, tush sir, oaths,  
Truth yet I'm loath to vex you,— tell you what;  
Make up the money I had an hundred pound,  
And take your belly full of her.  Maist. Gall. 
An hundred pound?  Mist. Gal. 
What a 100 pound? he gets none: what a 100 pound?  Maist. Gal. 
Sweet Pru be calm, the Gentleman offers thus,  
If I will make the moneys that are past  
A 100 pound, he will discharge all courts,  
And give his bond never to vex us more.  Mist. Gal. 
A 100 pound? 'Las; take sir but threescore,  
Do you seek my undoing?  Lax. 
I'll not bate one sixpence,— I'll maul you puss for spitting.  Mist. Gal. 
Do thy worst,  
Will fourscore stop thy mouth?  Lax. 
No.  Mist. Gal. 
You're a slave,  
Thou Cheat, I'll now tear money from thy throat,  
Husband lay hold on yonder tawnycoat.  Greene. 
Nay Gentlemen, seeing your women are so hot, I must lose my hair in their company I see.  Mist. Ope. 
His hair sheds off, and yet he speaks not so much in the nose as he did before.  Gosh. 
He has had the better Chirurgeon, Master Greenwit, is your wit so raw as to play no better a part then a sumner's?  Maist. Gal. 
I pray who plays a knack to know an honest man in this company?  Mist. Gall. 
Dear husband, pardon me, I did dissemble,  
Told thee I was his precontracted wife,  
When letters came from him for thirty pound,  
I had no shift but that.  Maist. Gal. 
A very clean shift: but able to make me lousy, On.  Mist. Gal. 
Husband, I plucked (when he had tempted me to think well of him) Get feathers from thy wings, to make him fly more lofty.  Maist. Gall. 
A'the top of you wife: on.  Mist. Gal. 
He having wasted them, comes now for more,  
Using me as a ruffian doth his whore,  
Whose sin keeps him in breath: by heaven I vow,  
Thy bed he never wronged, more than he does now.  Maist. Gal. 
My bed? ha, ha, like enough, a shopboard will serve to have a Cuckold's coat cut out upon: of that we'll talk hereafter: you're a villain.  Lax. 
Hear me but speak sir, you shall find me none.  Omnes 
Pray sir, be patient and hear him.  Maist. Gal. 
I am muzzled for biting sir, use me how you will.  Lax. 
The first hour that your wife was in my eye,  
myself with other Gentlemen sitting by,  
(In your shop) tasting smoke, and speech being used,  
That men who have fairest wives are most abused,  
And hardly scaped the horn, your wife maintained  
That only such spots in City dames were stained,  
justly, but by men's slanders: for her own part,  
She vowed that you had so much of her heart;  
No man by all his wit, by any wile,  
Never so fine spun, should yourself be guile,  
Of what in her was yours.  Maist. Gal. 
Yet Pru 'tis well: play out your game at Irish sir: Who wins?  Mist. Open. 
The trial is when she comes to bearing:  Lax. 
I scorned one woman, thus, should brave all men,  
And (which more vexed me) a she-citizen.  
Therefore I laid siege to her, out she held,  
Gave many a brave repulse, and me compelled  
With shame to sound retreat to my hot lust,  
Then seeing all base desires raked up in dust,  
And that to tempt her modest ears, I swore  
near to presume again: she said, her eye  
Would ever give me welcome honestly,  
And (since I was a Gentleman) if it run low,  
She would my state relieve, not to o'erthrow  
Your own and hers: did so; then seeing I wrought  
Upon her meekness, me she set at nought,  
And yet to try if I could turn that tide,  
You see what stream I strove with, but sir I swear  
By heaven, and by those hopes men lay up there,  
I neither have, nor had a base intent  
To wrong your bed, what's done, is merriment:  
Your Gold I pay back with this interest,  
When I had most power to do't I wronged you least.  Maist. Gal. 
If this no gullery be sir,  Omnes 
No, no, on my life,  Maist. Gal. 
Then sir I am beholden (not to you wife)  
But Master Laxton to your want of doing ill,  
Which it seems you have not Gentlemen,  
Tarry and dine here all.  Maist. Open. 
Brother, we have a jest,  
As good as yours to furnish out a feast.  Maist. Gal. 
we'll crown our table with it: wife brag no more,  
Of holding out: who most brags is most whore.  Exeunt omnes. Enter Jack Dapper, Moll, Sir Beauteous Ganymed, and Sir Thomas Long. Jack Dap. 
But prithee Master Captain Jack be plain and perspicuous with me; was it your Megge of Westminster's courage, that rescued me from the Poultry puttocks indeed.  Mol. 
The valour of my wit I ensure you sir fetched you off bravely, when you were i'the forlorn hope among those desperates, Sir Bewtious Ganymed here, and sir Thomas Long heard that cuckoo (my man Trapdore) sing the note of your ransom from captivity.  Sir Bewt. 
Uds so Moll, where's that Trapdore?  Mol. 
Hanged I think by this time, a justice in this town, (that speaks nothing but make a Mittimus a way with him to Newgate) used that rogue like a firework to run upon a line betwixt him and me.  Omnes 
how, how?  Mol. 
Marry to lay trains of villainy to blow up my life; I smelled the powder, spied what linstock gave fire to shoot against the poor Captain of the Gallifoyst, & away slid I my man, like a shovel-board shilling, he struts up and down the suburbs I think: and eats up whores: feeds upon a bawd's garbage.  T. Long. 
Sirrah Jack Dapper.  jac, Dap. 
What sayst Tom Long?  T. Long. 
Thou hadst a sweet faced boy hail fellow with thee to your little Gull: how is he spent?  jack. Dap. 
Troth I whistled the poor little buzzard of a my fist, because when he waited upon me at the ordinaries, the gallants hit me i'the teeth still, and said I looked like a painted Alderman's tomb, and the boy at my elbow like a death's head. Sirrah Jack, Moll.  Mol. 
What says my little Dapper?  Sir Bewt. 
Come, come, walk and talk, walk and talk.  jack. Dap. 
Moll and I'll be i'the midst.  Mol. 
These Knights shall have squires places belike then: well Dapper what say y ou?  jack. Dap. 
Sirrah Captain mad Mary, the gull my own father (Dapper) Sir Davy) laid these London boot-halers the catchpoles in ambush to set upon me.  Omnes 
Your father? away Jack.  jack. Dap. 
By the tassells of this handkercher 'tis true, and what was his warlike stratagem think you? he thought because a wicker cage tames a nightingale, a lousy prison could make an ass of me.  Omnes 
A nasty plot.  jack. Dap. 
I; as though a Counter, which is a park, in which all the wild beasts of the City run head by head could tame me.  Enter the Lord Noland. Moll. 
Yonder comes my Lord Noland.  Omnes 
Save you my Lord.  L. Nol. 
Well met Gentlemen all, good Sir Bewtious Ganymed, Sir Thomas Long?, and how does Master Dapper?  jack. Dap. 
Thanks my Lord.  Mol. 
No Tobacco my Lord?  L. Nol 
No faith Jack.  jack. Dap. 
My Lord Noland will you go to Pimlico with us? we are making a boon voyage to that nappy land of spice-cakes  L. Nol. 
here's such a merry ging, I could find in my heart to sail to the world's end with such company, come Gentlemen let's on.  jack. Dap. 
Here's most amorous weather my Lord.  Omnes 
Amorous weather.  They walk. Iac. Dap. 
Is not amorous a good word?  Enter Trapdore like a poor Soldier with a patch o'er one eye, and Teare-Cat with him, all tatters. Trap. 
Shall we set upon the infantry, these troops of foot? Zounds yonder comes Moll my whorish Master & Mistress, would I had her kidneys between my teeth.  Tear-Cat. 
I had rather have a cow heel.  Trap. 
Zounds I am so patched up, she cannot discover me: we'll on.  T. Cat. 
Alla corago then.  Trap. 
Good your Honours, and Worships, enlarge the ears of commiseration, and let the sound of a hoarse military organ-pipe, penetrate your pitiful bowels to extract out of them so many small drops of silver, as may give a hard straw-bed lodging to a couple of maimed soldiers.  Jack Dap. 
Where are you maimed?  T Cat. 
In both our neither limbs.  Mol. 
Come, come, Dapper, let's give 'em something, 'las poor men, what money have you? by my troth I love a soldier with my soul.  Sir Bewt. 
Stay, stay, where have you served?  T. Long. 
In any part of the Low countries?  Trap. 
Not in the Low countries, if it please your manhood, but in hungary against the Turk at the siege of Belgrad.  L. Nol. 
Who served there with you sirrah?  Trap. 
Many Hungarians, Moldavians, null, and Transylvanians, with some slavonians, and retiring home sir, the Venetian Galleys took us prisoners, yet freed us, and suffered us to beg up and down the country.  jack. Dap. 
You have ambled all over Italy then.  Trap. 
Oh sir, from Venice to Roma, Vecchio, Bononia, Romania, Bolonia, Modena, Piacenza, and Tuscana, with all her Cities, as Pistoia, Valteria, Mountepulchena, Arrezzo, with the Siennois, and diverse others.  Mol. 
Mere rogues, put spurs to 'em once more.  jack. Dap. 
Thou look'st like a strange creature, a fat butterbox, yet speak'st English,  
What art thou?  T. Cat. 
Ick mine Here. Ick been den ruffling Tear-cat.  
Den, brave Soldade, Ick been dorick all Dutchlant.  
Gueresen: Der Shellum das mere Ine Beasa  
Ine woert gaeb.  
Ick slaag vin strokes ou tom Cop.  
Dastick Den hundred touzun Devil hall,  
frolic mive Here.  Sir Bewt. 
Here, here, let's be rid of their jobbering,  Moll. 
Not a cross Sir Bewtiout, you base rogues, I have taken measure of you, better than a tailor can, and I'll fit you, as you (monster with one eye) have fitted me,  Trap. 
Your Worship will not abuse a soldier.  Moll. 
Soldier? thou deserv'st to be hanged up by that tongue which dishonours so noble a profession, soldier you skeldering varlet? hold, stand, there should be a trap-door hereabouts.  Pull off his patch Trap. 
The balls of these glaziers of mine (mine eyes) shall be shot up and down in any hot piece of service for my invincible Mistress.  Jack Dap. 
I did not think there had been such knavery in black patches as now I see.  Mol. 
Oh sir he hath been brought up in the I'll of dogs, and can both fawn like a Spaniel, and bite like a mastiff, as he finds occasion.  L. Nol. 
What are you sirrah? a bird of this feather too.  T. Cat. 
A man beaten from the wars sir.  T. Long. 
I think so, for you never stood to fight.  Iac. Dap. 
What's thy name fellow soldier?  T. Cat. 
I am called by those that have seen my valour, Tear-Cat.  Omnes 
Tear-cat?  Moll. 
A mere whiplack, and that is in the Commonwealth of rogues, a slave, that can talk of sea-fight, name all your chief Pirates, discover more countries to you, then either the Dutch, Spanish, French, or English ever found out, yet indeed all his service is by land, and that is to rob a Fair, or some such venturous exploit; Tear-cat, foot sirrah I have your name now I remember me in my book of horners, horns for the thumb, you know how.  T. Cat. 
No indeed Captain Moll (for I know you by sight) I am no such nipping Christian, but a maunderer upon the pad I confess, and meeting with honest Trapdore here, whom you had cashiered from bearing arms, out at elbows under your colours, I instructed him in the rudiments of roguery, and by my map made him sail over any Country you can name, so that now he can maunder better than myself.  jack. Dap. 
So then Trapdore thou art turned soldier now.  Trap. 
Alas sir, now there's no wars, 'tis the safest course of life I could take.  Mol. 
I hope than you can cant, for by your cudgels, you sirrah are an upright man.  Trap. 
As any walks the high way I assure you.  Mol. 
And Tear-cat what are you? a wild rogue, an angler, or a ruffler?  T. Cat. 
Brother to this upright man, flesh and blood, ruffling Tear-cat is my name, and a ruffler is my style, my title, my profession.  Mol. 
Sirrah where's your Doxy, halt not with me.  Omnes 
Doxy Moll, what's that?  Mol. 
His wench.  Trap. 
My doxy I have by the Salomon a doxy, that carries a kitchen mort in her flat at her back, besides my dell and my dainty wild del, with all whom I'll tumble this next darkmans in the strummel, and drink been baufe, and eat a fat gruntling cheat, a cackling cheat, and a quacking cheat.  jack. Dap. 
Here's old cheating.  Trap. 
My doxy stays for me in a bousing ken, brave Captain.  Mol. 
He says his wench stays for him in an alehouse: you are no pure rogues.  T. Cat. 
Pure rogues? no, we scorn to be pure rogues, but if you come to our lib ken, or our stalling ken, you shall find neither him nor me, a choir cuffin.  Mol. 
So sir, no churl of you.  T. Cat. 
No, but a been cave, a brave cave, a gentry cuffin.  L. Nol. 
Call you this canting?  jack. Dap. 
Zounds, I'll give a schoolmaster half a crown a week, and teach me this peddlers French.  Trap. 
Do but stroll sir, half a harvest with us sir, and you shall gabble your bellyful.  Mol. 
Come you rogue cant with me.  T. Long. 
Well said Moll, cant with her sirrah, and you shall have money, else not a penny.  Trap. 
I'll have a bout if she please.  Mol. 
Come on sirrah.  Trap. 
Ben mort, shall you and I heave a booth, mill a ken or nip a bung, and then we'll couch a hogshead under the Ruffemans, and there you shall wap with me, & I'll niggle with you.  Mol. 
Out you damned impudent rascal.  Trap. 
Cut benar whiddes, and hold your fambles and your stamps.  L Nol. 
Nay, nay, Moll, why art thou angry? what was his gibberish?  Mol. 
Marry this my Lord says he; Ben mort (good wench) shall you and I heave a booth, mill a ken, or nip a bung? shall you and I rob a house, or cut a purse?  Omnes 
Very Good. (man's:  Mol. 
And then we'll couch a hogshead under the Ruff-  
And then we'll lie under a hedge.  Trap. 
That was my desire Captain, as 'tis fit a soldier should lie.  Mol. 
And there you shall wap with me, and I'll niggle with you, and that's all.  Sir Bewt. 
Nay, nay Moll what's that wap?  jack. Dap. 
Nay teach me what niggling is, I'd fain be niggling.  Mol. 
Wapping and niggling is all one, the rogue my man can tell you.  Trap. 
'Tis fadoodling: if it please you.  Sir Bewt. 
This is excellent, one fit more good Moll,  Mol. 
Come you rogue sing with me.  
A gage of been Rom-bouse  
In a bousing ken of Rom-vile.  T. Cat. 
Is Benar then a Caster,  
Peck, pennam, lay or popler,  
Which we mill in deus a vile.  
Oh I would lib all the lightmans.  The song. 
Oh I would lib all the darkemans,  
By the sollamon under the Ruffemans.  
By the sollamon in the Hartmans.  T. Cat. 
And scour the Choir cramp ring,  
And couch till a pallyard docked my dell,  
So my bouzy nab might skew roam bouse well  
Avast to the pad, let us bing,  
Avast to the pad, let us bing.  Omnes 
Fine knaves i'faith.  jack. Dap. 
The grating of ten new cartwheels, and the gruntling of five hundred hogs coming from Rumford market, cannot make a worse noise than this canting language does in my ears; pray my Lord Noland, let's give these soldiers their pay.  Sir Bewt. 
Agreed, and let them march.  L. Nol. 
Here Moll.  Mol. 
Now I see that you are staled to the rogue, and are not ashamed of your professions, look you: my Lord Noland here and these Gentlemen, bestows upon you two, two boards and a half, that's two shillings six pence.  Trap. 
Thanks to your Lordship.  T. Cat. 
Thanks heroical Captain.  Mol. 
Away.  Trap. 
we shall cut been whiddes of your Masters and mistress-ship, wheresoever we come.  Moll. 
You'll maintain sirrah the old justices plot to his face.  Trap. 
Else trine me on the cheats: hang me.  Mol. 
Be sure you meet me there.  Trap. 
Without any more maundering I'll do't, follow brave Tear-Cat.  Exeunt they two manet the rest. T. Cat. 
I prae, sequor, let us go mouse.  L. Nol. 
Moll what was in that canting song? (only milk  Mol. 
Troth my Lord, only a praise of good drink, the  
Which these wild beasts love to suck, and thus it was:  
A rich cup of wine, oh it is juice Divine,  
More wholesome for the head,: hen meat, drink, or bread,  
To fill my drunken pate, with that, I'd sit up late,  
By the heels would I lie, under a lousy hedge die,  
Let a slave have a pull at my whore, so I be full  
Of that precious liquour; And a parcel of such stuff my Lord  
Not worth the opening.  Enter a Cutpurse very gallant, with four or five men after him, one with a wand. L. Nol. 
What gallant comes yonder?  T. Long. 
Mass I think I know him, 'tis one of Cumberland.  1 Cut. 
Shall we venture to shuffle in amongst yond heap of Gallants, and strike?  2 Cut. 
'Tis a question whether there be any silver shells amongst them, for all their satin outsides.  Omnes 
Let's try?  Mol. 
Pox on him, a gallant? shadow me, I know him: 'tis one that cumbers the land indeed; if he swim near to the shore of any of your pockets, look to your purses.  Omnes 
Is't possible?  Mol. 
This brave fellow is no better than a foist.  Omnes. 
Foist, what's that?  Mol. 
A diver with two fingers, a pickpocket; all his train study the figging law, that's to say; cutting of purses and foisting; one of them is a nip, I took him once i'the twopenny gallery at the Fortune; then there's a cloyer, or snap, that dogs any new brother in that trade, and snaps will have half in any booty; He with the wand is both a stale, whose office is, to face a man i'the streets, whilst shells are drawn by another, and then with his black conjuring rod in his hand, he by the nimbleness of his eye and juggling stick, will in cheaping a piece of plate at a goldsmiths stall, make four or five rings mount from the top of his caduceus, and as if it were at leapfrog, they skip into his hand presently.  2. Cut. 
Zounds we are smoked.  Omnes. 
Ha?  2. Cut. 
we are boiled, pox on her; see Moll the roaring drab.  1. Cut. 
All the diseases of sixteen hospitals boil her: away.  Mol. 
Bless you sir.  1. Cut. 
And you good sir.  Mol. 
Dost not ken me man?  1. Cut. 
No trust me sir.  Mol. 
Heart, there's a Knight to whom I'm bound for many favours, lost his purse at the last new play i'the Swan, seven Angels in't, make it good you're best; do you see? no more.  1. Cut. 
A Synagogue shall be called Mistress Mary, disgrace me not; pacus palabros, I will conjure for you, farewell:  Mol. 
Did not I tell you my Lord?  L. Nol. 
I wonder how thou cam'st to the knowledge of these nasty villains.  T. Long. 
And why do the foul mouths of the world call thee Moll cutpurse? a name, methinks, damned and odious.  Mol. 
Dare any step forth to my face and say,  
I have ta'en thee doing so Moll? I must confess,  
In younger days, when I was apt to stray,  
I have sat amongst such adders; seen their stings,  
As any here might, and in full playhouses  
Watched their quick-diving hands, to bring to shame  
Such rogues, and in that stream met an ill name:  
When next my Lord you spy any one of those,  
So he be in his Art a scholar, question him,  
Tempt him with gold to open the large book  
Of his close villainies: and you yourself shall cant  
Better than poor Moll can, and know more laws  
Of cheaters, lifters, nips, foists, puggards, curbers,  
Withal the devils black guard, than it is fit  
Should be discovered to a noble wit.  
I know they have their orders, offices,  
Circuits and circles, unto which they are bound,  
To raise their own damnation in.  jack. Dap. 
How dost thou know it?  Moll. 
As you do, I show it you, they to me show it.  
Suppose my Lord you were in Venice.  L. Nol. 
Well.  Mol. 
If some Italian pander there would tell  
All the close tricks of courtesans; would not you  
Hearken to such a fellow?  L. Nol. 
Yes.  Mol. 
And here,  
Being come from Venice, to a friend most dear  
That were to travel thither, you would proclaim  
Your knowledge in those villainies, to save  
Your friend from their quick danger: must you have  
A black ill name, because ill things you know,  
Good troth my Lord, I am made Moll cut purse so.  
How many are whores, in small ruffs and still looks?  
How many chaste, whose names fill slanders books?  
Were all men cuckolds, whom gallants in their scorns  
Call so, we should not walk for goring horns,  
Perhaps for my mad going some reprove me,  
I please myself, and care not else who loves me.  Omnes 
A brave mind Moll i'faith.  T. Long. 
Come my Lord, shall's to the Ordinary?  L. Nol. 
ay, 'tis noon sure. (or to the world:  Mol. 
Good my Lord, let not my name condemn me to you  
A fencer I hope may be called a coward, is he so for that?  
If all that have ill names in London, were to be whipped, (there  
And to pay but twelve pence a piece to the beadle, I would ra-  
Have his office, than a constable's.  jack. Dap. 
So would I Captain Moll: 'twere a sweet tickling office i'faith.  Exeunt. Enter Sir Alexander Wengraue, Goshawk and Greenwit, and others. Alex. 
My son marry a thief, that impudent girl,  
Whom all the world stick their worst eyes upon?  Greene. 
How will your care prevent it?  Gosh. 
'Tis impossible.  
They marry close, they're gone, but none knows whether.  Alex. 
Oh Gentlemen, when has a father's heartstrings  Enter a servant. 
Held out so long from breaking: now what news sir?  Servant. 
They were met upo'th' water an hour since, sir,  
Putting in towards the Sluice.  Alex. 
The Sluice? come Gentlemen,  
'Tis Lambeth works against us.  Greene. 
And that Lambeth, joins more mad matches, than your six wet towns, twixt that and Windsor-bridge, where fares lie soaking.  Alex. 
Delay no time sweet Gentlemen: to Black Friars,  
we'll take a pair of Oars and make after 'em.  Enter Trapdore. Trap. 
Your son, and that bold masculine ramp  
My mistress, are landed now at Tower.  Alex. 
Hoyda, at Tower?  Trap. 
I heard it now reported.  Alex. 
Which way Gentlemen shall I bestow my care?  
I'm drawn in pieces betwixt deceit and shame.  Enter sir Fitz-Allard. Fitz-Alla. 
Sir Alexander.  
You're well met, and most rightly served,  
My daughter was a scorn to you.  Alex. 
Say not so fir.  Fitz-All. 
A very abject, she poor Gentlewoman,  
Your house had been dishonoured. Give you joy sir,  
Of your son's Gascoin-bride, you'll be a Grandfather shortly  
To a fine crew of roaring sons and daughters,  
'Twill help to stock the suburbs passing well sir.  Alex. 
O play not with the miseries of my heart,  
Wounds should be dressed and healed, not vexed, or left  
Wide open, to the anguish of the patient,  
And scornful air let in: rather let pity  
And advise charitably help to refresh 'em.  Fitz-All. 
Who'd place his charity so unworthily.  
Like one that gives alms to a cursing beggar,  
Had I but found one spark of goodness in you  
Toward my deserving child, which then grew fond  
Of your sons virtues, I had cased you now.  
But I perceive both fire of youth and goodness,  
Are raked up in the ashes of your age,  
Else no such shame should have come near your house,  
Nor such ignoble sorrow touch your heart,  Alex. 
If not for worth, for pities sake assist me.  Greene. 
You urge a thing past sense, how can he help you?  
All his assistance is as frail as ours,  
Full as uncertain, where's the place that holds 'em?  
One brings us water-news; then comes another  
With a full charged mouth, like a culverin's voice,  
And he reports the Tower; whose sounds are truest?  Gosh. 
In vain you flatter him sir Alexander.  Fitz-All. 
I flatter him, Gentlemen you wrong me grossly.  Greene, 
He does it well i'faith.  Fitz-All. 
Both news are false,  
Of Tower or water: they took no such way yet. (plunges?  Alex. 
Oh strange: hear you this Gentlemen, yet more  Fiz-Alla. 
theyare nearer than you think for yet more close, then if they were further off.  Alex. 
How am I lost in these distractions?  Fitz-Alla. 
For your speeches Gentlemen,  
In taxing me for rashness; 'fore you all,  
I will engage my state to half his wealth,  
Nay to his sons revenues, which are less,  
And yet nothing at all, till they come from him;  
That I could (if my will stuck to my power),  
Prevent this marriage yet, nay banish her  
For ever from his thoughts, much more his arms.  Alex. 
Slack not this goodness, though you heap upon me  
Mountains of malice and revenge hereafter:  
I'd willingly resign up half my state to him,  
So he would marry the meanest drudge I hire.  Greene. 
He talks impossibilities, and you believe 'em.  Fitz-Alla. 
I talk no more, than I know how to finish,  
My fortunes else are his that dares stake with me,  
The poor young Gentleman I love and pity:  
And to keep shame from him, (because the spring  
Of his affection was my daughter's first,  
Till his frown blasted all,) do but estate him  
In those possessions, which your love and care  
Once pointed out for him, that he may have room,  
To entertain fortunes of noble birth,  
Where now his desperate wants casts him upon her:  
And if I do not for his own sake chiefly,  
Rid him of this disease, that now grows on him,  
I'll forfeit my whole state, before these Gentlemen.  Greene. 
Troth but you shall not undertake such matches,  
we'll persuade so much with you.  Alex. 
here's my ring,  
He will believe this token: fore these Gentlemen,  
I will confirm it fully: all those lands,  
My first love lotted him, he shall straight possess  
In that refusal.  Fitz-All. 
If I change it not, change me into a beggar.  Green. 
Are you mad sir?  Fitz-All. 
'Tis done.  Gosh. 
Will you undo yourself by doing,  
And show a prodigal trick in your old days?  Alex. 
'Tis a match Gentlemen.  Fitz-All. 
ay, ay, sir I.  
I ask no favour; trust to you for none,  
My hope rests in the goodness of your son.  Exit Fitz-Allard. Greene. 
He holds it up well yet.  Gosh. 
Of an old knight i'faith.  Alex. 
Cursed be the time, I laid his first love barren,  
Wilfully barren, that before this hour  
Had sprung forth fruits, of comfort and of honour;  
He loved a virtuous Gentlewoman.  Enter Moll. Gosh. 
Life, here's Moll.  Green. 
jack.  Gosh. 
How dost thou Jack?  Mol. 
How dost thou Gallant?  Alex. 
Impudence, where's my son?  Moll. 
Weakensse, go look him.  Alex. 
Is this your wedding gown?  Mol. 
The man talks monthly:  
Hot broth and a dark chamber for the knight,  
I see he'll be stark mad at our next meeting.  Exit Moll Gosh. 
Why sir, take comfort now, there's no such matter,  
No Priest will marry her, sir, for a woman,  
Whiles that shape's on, and it was never known,  
Two men were married and conjoined in one:  
Your son hath made some shift to love another.  Alex. 
whate'er 'she be, she has my blessing with her,  
May they be rich, and fruitful, and receive  
Like comfort to their issue, as I take in them,  
Has pleased me now, marrying not this,  
Through a whole world he could not choose amiss.  Green. 
Glad you're so penitent, for your former sin sir.  Gosh. 
Say he should take a wench with her smock-dowry,  
No portion with her, but her lips and arms?  Alex. 
Why? who thrive better sir? they have most blessing,  
Though other have more wealth, and least repent,  
Many that want most, know the most content.  Greene. 
Say he should marry a kind youthful sinner.  Alex. 
Age will quench that, any offence but theft and drunkenness  
Nothing but death can wipe away.,  
There sins are green, even when there heads are grey,  
Nay I despair not now, my heart's cheered Gentlemen,  
No face can come unfortunately to me,  
Now sir, your news?  Enter a servant. Servant. 
Your son with his fair Bride is near at hand,  Alex. 
Fair may their fortunes be.  Green. 
Now you're resolved sir, it was never she,  Alex. 
I find it in the music of my heart,  Enter Mol masked, in Sebastian's hand, and Fitz-Allard. 
See where they come.  Gosh. 
A proper lusty presence sir.  Alex. 
Now has he pleased me right, I always counselled him  
To choose a goodly personable creature,  
Just of her pitch was my first wife his mother.  Seb. 
Before I dare discover my offence, I kneel for pardon.  Alex; 
My heart gave it thee, before thy tongue could ask it,  
Rise, thou hast raised my joy to greater height.  
Then to that seat where grief dejected it,  
Both welcome to my love, and care for ever,  
Hide not my happiness too long, als pardoned,  
Here are our friends, salute her, Gentlemen.  They unmask her. Omnes. 
Heart, who this Moll?  Alex. 
O my reviving shame, is't I must live,  
To be struck blind, be it the work of sorrow,  
Before age take't in hand.  Fitz-All. 
Darkness and death.  
Have you deceived me thus? did I engage  
My whole estate for this.  Alex. 
You asked no favour,  
And you shall find as little, since my comforts,  
Play false with me, I'll be as cruel to thee  
As grief to father's hearts.  Mol. 
Why what's the matter with you?  
Less too much joy, should make your age forgetful,  
Are you too well, too happy?  Alex. 
With a vengeance.  Mol. 
methinks you should be proud of such a daughter,  
As good a man, as your son.  Alex. 
O monstrous impudence.  Mol. 
You had no note before, an unmarked Knight,  
Now all the town will take regard on you,  
And all your enemies fear you for my sake,  
You may pass where you list, through crowds most thick,  
And come of bravely with your purse unpicked,  
You do not know the benefits I bring with me,  
No cheat dares work upon you, with thumb or knife,  
While you'ave a roaring girl to your sons wife.  Alex. 
A devil rampant.  Fitz-Alla. 
Have you so much charity?  
Yet to release me of my last rash bargain,  
And I'll give in your pledge.  Alex. 
No sir, I stand to't, I'll work upon advantage,  
As all mischiefs do upon me.  Aitz-All. 
Content, bear witness all then  
His are the lands, and so contention ends.  
Here comes your sons Bride, twixt two noble friends.  Enter the Lord Noland, and Sir Bewtious Ganymed, with Marry Fitz-Allard between them, the Citizens and their wives with them. Mol. 
Now are you gulled as you would be, thank me for't,  
I'd a fore-finger in't.  Seb. 
Forgive me father,  
Though there before your eyes my sorrow feigned,  
This still was she, for whom true love complained.  Alex. 
Blessings eternal, and the joys of Angels,  
Begin your peace here, to be signed in heaven,  
How short my sleep of sorrow seems now to me,  
To this eternity of boundless comforts,  
That finds no want but utterance, and expression.  
My Lord your office here appears so honourably:  
So full of ancient goodness, grace, and worthiness,  
I never took more joy in sight of man,  
Then in your comfortable presence now.  L. Nol. 
Nor I more delight in doing grace to virtue,  
Then in this worthy Gentlewoman, your sons Bride,  
Noble Fitz-allard's daughter, to whose honour  
And modest fame, I am a servant vowed,  
So is this Knight.  Alex. 
Your loves make my joys proud,  
Bring forth those deeds of land, my care laid ready,  
And which, old knight, thy nobleness may challenge,  
joined with thy daughter's virtues, whom I prize now,  
As dearly as that flesh, I call mine own.  
Forgive me worthy Gentlewoman, 'twas my blindness  
When I rejected thee, I saw thee not,  
Sorrow and wilful rashness grew like films  
Over the eyes of judgement, now so clear  
I see the brightness of thy worth appear.  Mary. 
Duty and love may I deserve in those,  
And all my wishes have a perfect close,  Alex. 
That tongue can never err, the sound's so sweet,  
Here honest son, receive into thy hands,  
The keys of wealth, possession of those lands,  
Which my first care provided, they're thine own,  
Heaven give thee a blessing with 'em, the best joys,  
That can in worldly shapes to man betide,  
Are fertile lands, and a fair fruitful Bride,  
Of which I hope thou'rt sped.  Seb. 
I hope so too sir.  Mol. 
Father and son, I ha'done you simple service here,  Seb. 
For which thou shalt not part Moll unrequited.  Alex. 
Thou art a mad girl, and yet I cannot now condemn thee.  Mol. 
Condemn me? troth and you should sir,  
I'd make you seek out one to hang in my room,  
I'd give you the slip at Gallows, and cozen the people.  
Heard you this jest my Lord?  L. Nol. 
What is it Jack?  Mol. 
He was in fear his son would marry me,  
But never dreamed that I would near agree.  L. Nol. 
Why? thou hadst a suitor once Jack, when wilt marry?  Mol. 
Who I my Lord, I'll tell you when i'faith,  
When you shall hear,  
Gallants void from sergeant fear,  
Honesty and truth unslandered,  
Woman maned, but never pandered,  
Cheats booted, but not coached,  
Vessels older ere they're broached.  
If my mind be then not varied,  
Next day following, I'll be married.  L. Nol. 
This sounds like doomsday,  Moll. 
Then were marriage best,  
For if I should repent, I were soon at rest.  Alex. 
Introth thouart a good wench, I'm sorry now,  
The opinion was so hard, I conceived of thee.  
Some wrongs I've done thee.  Enter Trapdore. Trap. 
Is the wind there now?  
'Tis time for me to kneel and confess first,  
For fear it come too late, and my brains feel it,  
Upon my paws, I ask you pardon mistress.  Mol. 
Pardon? for what sir? what has your rogueship done now?  Trap. 
I have been from time to time hired to confound you, by this old Gentleman.  Mol. 
How?  Trap. 
Pray forgive him,  
But may I counsel you, you should never do't.  
Many a snare to entrap your worship's life,  
Have I laid privily, chains, watches, jewels,  
And when he saw nothing could mount you up,  
four hollow-hearted Angels he then gave you,  
By which he meant to trap you, I to save you.  Alex. 
To all which, shame and grief in me cry guilty,  
Forgive me now, I cast the world's eyes from me,  
And look upon thee freely with mine own:  
I see the most of many wrongs before he,  
Cast from the jaws of envy and her people,  
And nothing foul but that, I'll never more  
Condemn by common voice, for that's the whore,  
That deceives man's opinion; mocks his trust,  
cousins his love, and makes his heart unjust.  Mol. 
Here be the Angels Gentlemen, they were given me  
As a physician, I pursue no pity,  
Follow the law, and you can cuck me, spare not  
Hang up my vial by me, and I care not.  Alex. 
So far I'm sorry, I'll thrice double 'em  
To make thy wrongs amends,  
Come worthy friends my honourable Lord,  
Sir Beauteous Ganymed, and Noble Fitz-Allard,  
And you kind Gentlewoman, whose sparkling presence,  
Are glories set in marriage, beams of society,  
For all your loves give luster to my joys,  
The happiness of this day shall be remembered,  
At the return of every smiling spring:  
In my time now 'tis borne, and may no sadness  
Sit on the brows of men upon that day,  
But as I am, so all go pleased away.   

 

   

Epilogus,  

A Painter having drawn with curious Art  
The picture of a woman (every part,  
Limbed to the life) hung out the piece to sell:  
People (who passed along) viewing it well,  
Gave several verdicts on it. some dispraised  
The hair, some said the brows too high were raised,  
Some hit her o'er the lips, misliked their colour,  
Some wished her nose were shorter; some, the eyes fuller,  
Others said roses on her cheeks should grow,  
Swearing they looked too pale, others cried no,  
The workman still as fault was found, did mend it,  
In hope to please all; (but this work being ended)  
And hung open at stall, it was so vile,  
So monstrous and so ugly all men did smile  
At the poor painter's folly. Such we doubt  
Is this our Comedy, Some perhaps do flout  
The plot, saying; 'tis too thin, too weak, too mean,  
Some for the person will revile the scene.  
And wonder, that a creature of her being  
Should be the subject of a Poet, seeing  
In the world's eye, none weighs so light: others look  
For all those base tricks published in a book,  
(Foul as his brains they flowed from) of Cutpurse,  
Of Nips and Foists, nasty, obscene discourses,  
As full of lies, as empty of worth or wit,  
For any honest ear, or eye unfit. And thus,  
If we to every brain (that's humorous)  
Should fashion Scenes, we (with the Painter) shall  
In striving to please all, please none at all.  
Yet for such faults, as either the writers wit,  
Or negligence of the Actors do commit,  
Both crave your pardons: if what both have done,  
Cannot full pay your expectation,  
The roaring Girl herself some few days hence,  
Shall on this Stage, give larger recompense. (you,  
Which Mirth that you may share in, herself does woe  
And craves this sign, your hands to beckon her to you.   
FINIS.