A MATCH AT midnight. A Pleasant Comedy: As it hath been Acted by the Children of the Revels.  
Written by W. R.  
LONDON: Printed by Aug. Mathewes, for William Sheares, and are to be sold at his Shop in Britain's burse. 1633.   

The Actors Names.  

3 Captain Carvegut.  
4 Lieutenant Bottom.  
Ancient Young.  
Bloodhound, A Usurer.  
Alexander Bloodhound his two sons. Tim Bloodhound.  
Randall, A Welshman.  
Earelack, A Scrivener.  
1. Sir Marmaduke many minds.  
2 Sir janus Ambodexter.  
Sim, the Clown.  
john, servant to the Widow.  
jarvis, the Widow's Husband disguised like her servant.  
A Smith.  
Bussie, A Constable.  
watch.  
Widow.  
Moll, Bloodhounds Daughter.  
Widow's Maid.  
Mistress Coote, a Bawd.  
Sue, A Whore.    

A MATCH AT midnight.  
Actus Primus. Scaena Prima.  Enter as making themselves ready, Tim Bloodhound, and Sim the man. Sim. 
Good morrow Master Tim.  Tim. 
Morrow Sim, my father stirring Sim?  Sim. 
Not yet I think, he heard some ill news of your Brother Alexander last night, that will make him lie an hour extraordinary.  Tim. 
Hum, I am sorry the old man should lie by the hour, but oh, these wicked Elder Brothers, that swear refuse them, and drink nothing but wicked Sack, when we swear nothing but niggers noggers, make a meal of a bloat Herring, water it with four shillings Beer, and then swear we have dined as well as my Lord Maior.  Sim. 
Here was Goody Finne the fishwoman fetched home her Ring last night.  Tim. 
Ye should have put her money by herself, for fear of wronging of the whole heap.  Sim. 
So I did sir and washed it first in two waters.  Tim. 
All these petty pawns sirrah, my Father commits to my managing, to instruct me in this craft, that when he dies, the commonwealth may want a good member.  Enter Mistress Mary. Sim. 
Nay, you are cursed as much as he already.  Mary. 
Oh Brother, 'tis well you are up.  Tim. 
Why, why?  Mary. 
Now you shall see the dainty Widow, the sweet Widow, the delicate Widow, that tomorrow morning must be our Mother in Law.  Tim. 
What the Widow Nag.  Sim. 
Yes, yes, she that dwells in Blackfriars, next to the sign of the Fool laughing at a feather.  Mary. 
she, she, good Brother make yourself handsome, for my father will bring her hither presently.  Tim. 
Niggers noggers, I thought he had been sick and had not been up Sim.  Sim. 
Why so did I too, but it seems the Widow took him at a better hand, and raised him so much the sooner.  Tim 
While I tie my Band, prithee stroke up my foretop a little, Niggers, and I had but dreamed of this an hour before I waked, I wood have put on my Sunday clothes, 'snailes my shoes are as pale as the cheek of a stewed Pander, a clout, a clout Sim.  Sim. 
More haste, the worse speed, here's ne'er a clout now.  Tim. 
What's that lies by the books?  Sim. 
This 'tis a summoner's coat.  Tim. 
Prithee lends a sleeve of that, had a Noble on't last night, and never paid me my Bill money.  Enter old Bloodhound, the Widow, her maid, and man. Blood. 
Look, look upon, and ready, all ready Widow is, he is in some deep discourse with Sim, concerning moneys out to one or another.  Wid. 
Has he said his prayers sir?  Blood. 
Prayer before providence, when did ye know any thrive, and swell that uses it, he's a chip o'th' old block, I exercise him in the trade of thrift, by turning him to all the petty pawns, If they come to me, I tell 'em I have given over Brokering, moiling for muck and trash, and that I mean to live a life Monastic, a praying life, pull out the tail of Croesus from my pocket, and swear 'tis called charity's looking glass, or an exhortation to forsake the World.  Maid. 
Dainty Hypocrite.  Wid. 
Peace.  Blood. 
But let a fine fool that's well feathered come, and withal good meat, I have a friend it may be, that may compassionate his wants, I'll tell ye an old Saw for't over my chimney yonder, a poor man seem to him that's poor, and prays thee for to lend, but tell the prodigal (not quite spent) thou wilt procure a friend.  Wid. 
Trust me a thrifty saw.  Blood. 
Many will have virtuous admonitions on their walls, but not a piece in their coffers, give me these witty politic saws, and indeed my house is furnished with no other.  Wid. 
How happy shall I be to wed such wisdom.  Blood. 
Shall bed it, shall bed it wench, shalt ha''t by infusion, look, look. Enter a Smith.  Smith. 
Save ye Master Tim.  Tim. 
Who's this, goodman file the blacksmith, I thought 'had been our old collier: did you go to bed with that dirty face goodman file?  Smith. 
And rise with it too sir.  Tim. 
What have you bumming out there goodman file?  Smith. 
A vice sir, that I would fain be furnished with a little money upon't.  Tim. 
Why how will you do to work then goodman file?  Smith. 
This is my spare vice, not that I live by.  Tim. 
Hum, ye did not buy this spare vice of a lean Courtier, did ye?  Smith. 
No sir, of a fat Cook, that strained of a Smith for's rent.  Sim. 
Oh hard hearted man of grease.  Tim. 
Nay, nay, Sim, we must do't sometimes.  Blood. 
Ha thrifty whoreson.  Tim. 
And what wood serve your turn goodman file?  Smith. 
A Noble Sir.  Tim. 
What upon a spare vice to lend a Noble?  Sim. 
Why sir, for ten groats you may make yourself drunk, and so buy a vice outright for half the money.  Tim. 
That is no noble vice I assure ye.  Sim. 
How long wood ye have it!  Smith. 
But a fortnight, 'tis to buy stuff I protest sir.  Tim. 
Look ye being a neighbour, and borne one for another.  Blood. 
Ha villain, shalt have all.  Tim. 
There is five shillings upon't, which at the fortnight's end goodman File you must make five shillings six pence.  Smith. 
How sir?  Tim. 
Nay and it were not to do you a courtesy—  Blood. 
Ha Boy.  Tim. 
And then I had forgot three pence for my Bill, so there is four pence, and nine pence, which you are to tender back, five shillings six pence, goodman File at the end of the fortnight.  Smith. 
Well and it were not for earnest necessity, hay boys, I come, I come, you black rascals, let the Cans go round.  Tim. 
Sim, because the man's an honest man, I pray lay up his Vice, as safe as it were your own.  Sim. 
And if he miss his day, and forfeit, it shall be yours and your heirs for ever.  Blood. 
What, disbursing money boy? here is thy mother in law  Clown 
Your nose drops, 'twill spoil her ruff.  Tim. 
Pray forsooth— what's o'clock.  Maid. 
Oh fie upon him Mistress, I thought he had begun to ask you blessing.  Wid. 
Peace, we'll have more on't. walks towards him.  Tim. 
I wonot kiss indeed.  Sim 
And he wonot, here are those that will forsooth.  Blood. 
Get ye in you Rogue.  Wid. 
I hope ye will Sir? I was bred in Ireland where the women begin the salutation.  Tim. 
I wonot kiss truly.  Wid. 
Indeed you must.  Tim. 
Wood my girdle may break if I do.  Wid. 
I have a mind.  Tim. 
Niggers noggers I wonot.  Blood. 
Nay nay, now his great oath's past, there's no talk on't, I like him ne'er the worse, there's an old saw sort,  
A kiss first, next the feeling sense,  
Crack say the purse strings, out fly the pence.  
But he can talk though, whose Boy are you Tim?  Tim. 
Your boy forsooth Father.  Blood. 
Can ye turn and wind a penny Tim.  Tim. 
Better than yourself forsooth father.  Blood. 
You have looked in the Church book late, how old are you Tim?  Tim. 
Two and twenty years, three months, three days, and three quarters of an hour, forsooth Father.  Wid. 
He has arithmetic.  Blood. 
And grammar too, what's Latin for your head Tim?  Tim. 
Caput.  Wid. 
But what for the head of a block?  Tim. 
Caput blockhead.  Blood. 
Do ye hear, your ear.  Tim. 
Aura.  Blood. 
Your eye.  Tim. 
Occules.  Blood. 
That's for one eye, what's Latin for two.  Tim. 
Occulies, occulies.  Wid. 
An admirable accidental grammarian I protest sir.  Blood. 
This boy shall have all, I have an elder rogue that sucks and draws me, a Tavern academician: one that protests to Whores, and shires with Highway lawyers; an arrant unclarified Rogue, that drinks nothing but wicked Sack.  Enter Clown, Alexander drunk. Clow. 
Here's a Gentleman would speak with you,  Blood. 
Look, look, now he's come for more money.  Widow. 
A very hopeful house to match into wench, the Father a Knave, one son a drunkard, and other a fool.  Tim. 
O monster Father, look if he be not drunk, the very sight of him makes me long for a cup of six.  Alex. 
Pray Father, pray to God to bless me.  Blood. 
Look, look, takes his brother for his Father.  Sim: 
Alas Sir, when the drink's in, the wit's out, and none but wise children know their own Fathers.  Tim: 
Why I am none of your Father, brother, I am Tim, do ye know Tim.  Alex. 
Yes, umph— for a coxcomb.  Wid. 
How wild he looks: good sir we'll take our leaves.  Blood. 
Shalt not go faith Widow: you Cheater Rogue, must I ha' my friends frighted out my house by you, look he'll steal nothing to feast his Bawds, get ye out sirrah, there are Constables, Beadles, whips, and the College of extravaging, yclept Bridewell ye Rogue, ye Rogue there is, there is— mark that.  Alexander. 
Can you send me a Mark upon this Ring sir, and there set it down in your Book, and umph— mark that.  Blood. 
I'll have no stolen Rings, picked out of pockets, or taken upon the way, not I.  Alex. 
I'll give you an old saw for't.  Blood. 
There's a Rogue mocks his Father, sirrah, get 'ye gone, Sim, go let lose the Mastiff.  Sim. 
Alas sir, he'll tear and pull out your son's throat.  Blood. 
Better pull't out, than a halter stretched, away out of my doors rogue, I defy thee.  Alex. 
Must you be my Mother in Law?  Wid. 
So your father says sir.  Alex. 
You see the worst of your eldest son, I abuse nobody.  Blood. 
The Rogue will fall upon her.  Alex. 
I will tell ye an old saw.  Wid. 
Pray let's hear it.  Alex. 
An old man is a bed full of bones,  
and who can it deny,  
By whom (umph) a young wench lies and grieves,  
for better company.  Blood. 
Did ye ever hear such a Rascal? come come, let's leave him: I'll go buy thy wedding Ring presently, y'are best be gone sirrah: I am going for the Constable, I and one of the Churchwardens, and now I think on't, he shall pay five shillings to the poor for being drunk, twelve pence shall go into the box, and other four, my partner and we'll share betwixt us, there's a new path to thrift wench, we must live, we must live girl.  Wid. 
And at last die for altogether.  Sim. 
'Tis a Diamond.  Tim. 
You'll be at the fountain after dinner?  Alex. 
White, 'twill run boy.  Tim. 
Here's a noble now, and I'll bring you other as I come by to the Tavern, but I'll make you swear, I shall drink nothing but small Beer.  Alex. 
Niggers naggers thou shalt not, there's thine own oath for thee, thou shalt eat nothing and thou wilt, but a poached spider, and drive it down with syrup of Toads. Exit.  Tim. 
Ah, prithee Sim bid the maid eat my breakfast herself.  Sim. 
Has turned his stomach, for all the World like a Puritans, at the sight of a surplice, but your breakfast shall be devoured by a stomach of a stronger constitution I warrant you. Exit.  Enter Captain Carvegut, and Lieutenant Bottom. Captain. 
No Game abroad this morning, this coxcomb Park, I think be passed the best, I have known the time the bottom 'twixt these hills has been better fledged.  Lieu. 
Look out Captain, there's matter of employment at foot o'th' hill.  Captain. 
A business?  Lieu. 
Yes, and hopeful, there's a morning bird, his flight it seems for London, he hallows and sings sweetly, prithee let us go and put him out of tune.  Cap. 
Thee and I have crotchets in our pates, and thou knowest two Crotchets make one quaver, he shall shake for't. Exit.  Enter Randall. Rand. 
Did her not see her true Loves,  
As her came from London,  
Oh, if her saw not her fine brave Loves,  
Randall is quite undone,  
Well, was never mortal man in Wales, could have waged praver, finers, and nimblers, than Randalls have done, to get service in London's: whoop, where was her now, just upon a bridge of stone, between the legs of a couple of pretty hills, but no more near mountains in Wales, than Clim of the clough's bow, to her cousin David's Harp, and now her prattle of Davie, I think yonder come prancing down the hills from Kingston a couple of her other cousins Saint Nicholas Clerks. the morning was so red as an egg, and the place very full of dangers, perils, and bloody businesses by reports: augh her swords was drawn, God pless us and her cozen Hercules was not stand against too, which shall her take if they take Randalls, will rip Randalls cuts out, and then Randalls shall see Paul's steeples no more, therefore her will go directly under the bridge, here was but standing to knees in little fine cool fair waters, and begar if her have Randalls out, her shall come and fetch Randalls and her will, were her nineteen Nicholas Clerks. Exit.  Enter Captain and Lieutenant Lieu. 
Which way took he?  Cap. 
On straight I think.  Lieu. 
Then we should see him man, he was just in mine eye when we were at foot o'th' hill, and to my thinking stood here looking towards us upon the bridge.  Cap. 
So thought I, but with the cloud of dust we raised about us, with the speed our horses made: it seems we lost him, how I could stamp and bite my horse's ears off.  Lieu. 
Let's spur towards Coomb house, he struck that way, sure he's not upon the Road.  Capt. 
'Sfoot if we miss him, how shall we keep our word with Sander Bloodhound in Fleetstreet after dinner at the Fountain, he's out of cash, and thou knowest by cutter's Law, we are bound to relieve one another.  Lieu. 
Let's scour towards Coomb house, but if we miss him.  Cap. 
No matter, dost see yonder barn o'th' left hand?  Lieu. 
What of that?  Cap. 
At the West end, I tore a piece of board out,  
And stuffed in close amongst the straw, a bag  
Of a hundred pound at least, all in round shillings:  
Which I made my last nights purchase for a Lawyer.  Lieu. 
Dost know the place to fetch it again?  Cap. 
The torn board is my land mark, if we miss this,  
We make for that, and whilst that lasts— oh London,  
Thou Labyrinth that puzzleest strictest search,  
Convenient Inns of Court, for highway Lawyers,  
How with rich wine, Tobacco, and sweet Wenches,  
we will canvas thy dark case.  Lieu. 
Away, let's spur. Exit.  Enter Randall. Rand. 
Spur did her call her, have made Randalls stand without boots, in ferry pitiful pickles, but her will run as nimbles to London's, as Greyhound after Rabbits, and yet now her remember what her cousins talked, was some wiser and some too, Randalls heard talk of Parne upon left hand, and a brave bag with hundred pounds in round shillings Cod pless us, and yonder was Parnes and upon left hands too, now here was questions, & demands to be made, why Randalls should not rob them would rob Randalls, her will go to parnes, pluck away pords, pull out paggs, and show her cozen a round pair of heels, with aule her round sillings, mark her now. Exit.  Enter Captain and Lieutenant. Lieu. 
The Rogue rise right, and has out stripped us this was staying in Kingston with our unlucky Hostess, that must be dandled, and made drunk next her heart, she made us slip the very Cream o'th' morning, if any thing stand awkward, a woman's at one end on't.  Cap. 
Come, we have a hundred pieces good yet in the barn, they shall last us, and Saunder a month's mirth at least.  Lieu. 
Oh these sweet hundred pieces, how I will kiss ye, and hug ye with that zeal a Usurer does his bastard money, when he comes from Church, wert not for them, where were our hopes, but come, they shall be sure to thunder in the Taverns, I but now, just now I see pottle pots thrown down the stairs, just like Sergeants and Yeomen, one i'th' neck of another.  Cap. 
Delicate vision. Exeunt. Ent. Ran.  Rand. 
Her have got her pag and awl by the hand, and her had ferrily thought in conscience, had not been so many round shillings in whole worlds but in Wales, 'twas time to supply her store, her had but thirteen pence half penny in all the worlds, and that her have left in her little white purse, with a rope her find py the parne, just in the place her had this: Randalls will be no serving man's now, her will buy her brave Parrells, brave Swords, brave Taggers, and prave Feathers, and go a-wooing to brave comely pretty maids, rob Randalls, begar and her were ten dozens of cousins, Randalls rob her, mark her now. Exit.  Enter Captain, and Lieutenant. Lieu. 
A plague of Friday mornings, the unfortunate day in the whole week.  Capt. 
Was ever the like sat, 'sfoot when I put it in I was so wary, though it were midnight, that I watched till a cloud had masked the Moon, for fear she should have seen't.  Lieu. 
Oh luck.  Cap. 
A Gale of wind did but creep o'er the bottom, and because I heard things stir, I stayed, 'twas twelvescore past me.  Lieu. 
The pottle pots will sleep in peace tonight.  Cap. 
And the sweet clinks.  Lieu. 
The clattering of pipes.  Capt. 
The Spanish fumes.  Lieu. 
The more wine boy, the nimble anon, anon sir.  Cap. 
All tonight will be nothing, come we must shift, 'sfoot what a witty rogue 'twas to leave, this fair thirteen pence halfpenny, and this old halter, intimating aptly.  
Had the hangman met us three, by these presages,  
Here had been his work, and here his wages.  Lieu. 
Come, come, we must make friends. Exeunt.  Enter Bloodhound, Tim, and Sim. Blood. 
There sirrah, there's his bond, run into the Strand, six weeks the Tallow Chandler fetched my hundred mark I lent him to set him up, and to buy grease, this is his day, I'll have his bones for't else, so pray tell him.  Tim 
But are a chandler's ones worth so much Father?  Blood. 
Out coxcomb.  Sim. 
Worth so much, I know my Master will make dice on them, then 'tis but letting Master Alexander carry them next Christmas to the Temple, he'll make a hundred marks a night of them.  Tim. 
Mass that's true.  Blood. 
And run to Master Eare-lack's the informer, in Thieving lane, and ask him what he has done in my business he gets abundance, and if he carry my cause with one false oath, he shall have Moll, he will take her with a little, are ye gone Sir?  Tim. 
No forsooth.  Blood. 
As ye come by Temple-bar, make a step toth' Devil.  Tim. 
To the Devil father?  Blood. 
My Master means the sign of the Devil.  Sim. 
And he cannot hurt ye fool, there's a Saint holds him by the nose.  Tim. 
'sniggers, what does the Devil and a Saint both in a sign?  Sim. 
What a question's that, what does my Master, and his prayer book a Sunday both in a pew?  Sim. 
Well, well, ye Gipsy, what do we both in a pew?  Blood 
Why make a fair show, and the Devil and the Saint does no more.  Blod. 
Y'are witty, y'are witty, call to the man o'th' house, bid him send in the bottles of wine tonight, they will be at hand i'th' morning,— will ye run sir?  Tim. 
To the devil as fast I can Sir, the world shall know who's son I am. Exit.  Blood 
Let me see now, for a posy for the Ring:  
Never an end of an old saw, 'tis a quick Widow Sim,  
And wood have a witty posy.  Sim 
If she be quick, she's with child, whosoever got it you must father it, so that you come o'th' nick, forth widow's quick, there's a witty posy for you quick Widow.  Blood. 
No, no, I'll have one shall savour of, of a saw.  Sim. 
Why then 'twill smell of the painted cloth.  Blood. 
Let me see, a Widow witty.  Sim. 
Is pastime pretty, put in that for the sport's sake.  Blood. 
No, no, I can make the sport, than an old man.  Sim. 
Then will she answer, if you cannot a younger can,  
And look, look sir, now I take of the younger,  
Yonder's Ancient Young come over again, that  
Mortgaged sixty pound Per annum before he went,  
I am deceived if he come not a day after the Fair.  Blood. 
Mine almanac.  Sim. 
A prayer book sir.  Blood. 
A prayer book for devote beggars I hate, look I beseech thee, Fortune now befriend me, and I will call the plaguy whore in, let me see, six months.  Ant. 
Yes, 'tis he certain, this is a business must not be slackened sir.  Sim. 
Look I beseech thee, we shall have oat meal in our pottage six weeks after.  Blood. 
four days too late Sim, four days too late Sim.  Sim. 
Plums in our pudding a Sunday, plums in our pudding.  Ant. 
Master bloodhound as I take it.  Blood. 
You are a stranger Sir, you shall be witness, I shall be railed at else, they will call me devil, I pray you how many months from the first of May, to the sixth of November following?  Ant. 
six months and four days just.  Blood. 
I ask, because the last first of May, a noble gentleman, one Ancient Young.  Ant. 
I am the man sir?  Blood. 
My spectacles Sim, look Sim, is this Ancient Young?  Sim. 
'ttwas Ancient Young sir:  Blood. 
And is't not Ancient Young?  Sim. 
No sir, you have made him a young Ancient  Blood. 
Oh Sim, a Chair, I know him now, but I shall not live to tell him.  Ant. 
How fare ye sir?  Sim. 
The better for you, he thanks you sir.  Blood. 
Sick, sick, exceeding sick,  Ant. 
O'th' sudden, strange.  Sim. 
A qualm of threescore years come over his stomach, nothing else.  Blood. 
That you beloved, you, who of all men i'th' world, my poor heart doted on, whom I loved better than Father, Mother, Brother, Sister, uncles, Ants, what wood ye have, that you should stay four days too late.  Ant. 
I have your money ready,  
And sir, I hope your old love to my Father.  Blood. 
Nay, nay, I am Noble, fellow, very Noble, a very rock of friendship, but, but, I had a house and barn burned down to the ground, since you were here.  Ant. 
How?  Blood. 
How burned ask Sim?  Sim. 
By fire, sir, by fire.  Blood. 
To build up which, for I am a poor man, a poor man, I was forced by course of Law to enter upon your Land, and so for less money than you had of me, I was fain to sell it to another, that by four days' stay, a man should lose his blood, our livings, our blood, o my heart, o my head.  Ant. 
Pray take it not so heinous, we'll go to him. I'll buy it again of him, he wonot be too cruel.  Blood. 
A dog, a very dog, there is more mercy in a pair of unbribed Bailiffs, to shun all such solicitings, he's rid to York, a very cutthroat Rogue, but I'll send to him.  Ant. 
A honest old man, how it moves him, this was my negligence, good Sim convey him into some warmer room, and I pray, however Fortune, she that gives ever with the dexterity she takes, shall please to fashion out my sufferings, yet for his sake, my deceased Father, the long friend of your heart, in your health, keep me happy.  Blood. 
Oh right honest young man Sim.  Sim. 
Sir, Blood. Have I done't well?  Sim. 
The devil himself could not have done't better.  Blood. 
I tell thee an old saw sirrah, he that dissembles in wealth shall not want, they say doom's day is coming, but think you not an't, this will make the pot seethe Sim, good Sir talk no more, my mouth runs over, Sleep, wake, worthy beggar, worthy indeed to be one, and am one worthily— how fine it is to wanton without affliction, I must look out for Fortunes, over again, no, I have money here, and 'tis the curse of merits, not to work, when she has money: there was a handsome Widow, whose wild mad jealous husband died at Sea, let me see, I am near Blackfriars, I'll have one start at her, or else—  Enter Bloodhound, Daughter Mol, with a bowl of beer. Mol. 
By my troth 'tis he Captain Young's son, I have loved him even with languishings, ever since I was a girl but should I know it, I should run mad sure, what handsome Gentlemen travail and manners makes, my Father begun to ye Sir, in a cup of final Beer.  Ant. 
How does he pray?  Moll. 
Pretty well now Sir.  Ant. 
Mas 'tis small indeed— you'll pledge me?  Moll. 
Yes sir.  Ant. 
Pray will ye tell me one thing?  Moll. 
What is't.  Ant 
Which is smaller, this Beer, or your maidenhead?  Moll. 
the Beer a great deal Sir.  Ant. 
I in quality.  Moll. 
But not in quantity.  Ant. 
No?  Moll. 
Why?  Ant. 
Let me try, and I'll tell you.  Moll. 
Will you tell me one thing before you try?  Ant. 
Yes.  Moll. 
Which is smaller, this Beer or your wit?  Ant. 
O the Beer, the Beer.  Moll. 
In quality.  Ant. 
Yes, in quantity.  Moll. 
Why then I pray keep your quantity of your wit, from the quality of my maidenhead, and ye shall find my maidenhead more than your wit.  Ant. 
A witty maidenhead by this hand.  Exeunt severally.  

Actus. 2. Scaena 1.  A Table set out. Enter two servants, jarvis and john, as to cover it for dinner. john. 
Is my Mistress ready for dinner?  Iar. 
Yes, if dinner be ready for my Mistress.  john. 
Half an hour ago man.  Iar. 
But prithee sir, is't for certain, for yet it cannot sink into my head, that she is to be married tomorrow.  Ioh. 
Troth, she makes little preparation, but it may be she wood be wedded, as she wood be bedded, privately.  Iar. 
Bedded call ye it, and she be bedded no better than he'll bed her, she may lie Tantalized and eat wishes.  john. 
Pox on him, they say he's the arrantst miser, we shall never live good day with him.  Iar. 
Well, and she be s●ipt by threescore and ten, may she live sixscore and eleven, and repent twelve times a that's once an hour.  Wid. 
Set meat o'th' board. Enter Wid.  john. 
Yes. Exit.  Wid. 
Why does your fellow grumble so?  john. 
I do not know.  
They say y'are to marry one that will feed us.  
With horse-plums, instead of Beef and cabbage.  Wid. 
And are you grieved at that?  john. 
No, but my friends are.  Wid. 
What friends are grieved?  john. 
My guts.  Wid. 
So it seems, you begone Clown?  john. 
Yes, and shall conclude coxcomb, and I be fed with herring bones, ''sfoot, I say no more, but if we do want as much bread of our daily allowance, as wood dine a Sparrow, or as much drink as wood fox a Fly, I know what I know.  Wid. 
And what do ye know sir?  Ioh. 
Why, that there goes but a pair of sheets, a promoter, and a knave, if you know more, take your choice of either.  Wid. 
'tis well sir, set on dinner.  Enter john with a Rabbit in one hand, and a dish of eggs in another, and the Maid. john. 
O Mistress, yonder's the mad gallant, Master Alexander Bloodhound entered into the Hall.  Wid. 
Ye should have kept him out.  Maid. 
Alas, ne'er a wench in town could do't he's so nimble, I had no sooner opened the door, but he thrust in ere I was aware. Enter Alex.  Alex. 
And how does my little handsome dainty, delicate, well-favoured, straight, and comely delicious bewitching Widow.  Iar. 
God's-foot here's one runs division before the Fiddlers.  Wid. 
Sir, this is no seasonable time of visit.  Alex. 
'tis pudding time wench, pudding time, and a dainty time, dinner time my nimble eyed witty one, wilt be married tomorrow sirrah. sets to table.  Iar. 
She will be mad tomorrow sirrah.  Alex. 
What, art thou a fortune teller.  Iar. 
A chip of the same block, a fool Sir.  Alex. 
Good fool, give me a cup of cool Beer.  Iar. 
Fill your Master a cool cup of Beer.  Alex. 
Pish, I spoke to the fool.  Iar. 
I thought y''had brought the fool with you Sir.  Alex. 
Fool, 'tis my man, shalt sit i'faith wench,  Wid. 
For once I be as merry as you are mad, and learn fashions, I am set you see Sir, but you must pardon Sir our rudeness, Fridays fare for myself, a dish of eggs and a rabbit, I looked for no stranger faces.  Alex. 
Strange, mine's a good face i'faith, prithee Buss.  Iar. 
Why here's one comes to the business now.  Alex. 
Sirrah, wilt have the old fellow?  Wid. 
Your Father, yes.  Alex. 
I tell thee thou shalt not, no, no, I have such—  Iar. 
There's but one raw bit Sir?  this rabbits raw too Alex. 
Thy jester sure shall have a coat.  Wid. 
Let it be of your own cut Sir?  Alex. 
Nay, nay, nay, two to one is extremity— but as I was telling thee, I have such a husband for thee, so knowing, so discreet, so sprightly, fill a Cup of Claret, so; Admirably, in desires so excellently, Admirably deserving, that an old man, fie, fie, prithee— ha to thee.  Wid. 
The man's mad sure.  Iar. 
Mad, by this hand, a witty Gallant.  john. 
Prithee peace, shalt hear a Song.  Enter Antient Yong. Widow 
What copesmate's this trow, who let him in?  Iar. 
By this light, a fellow of an excellent breeding.  
He came unbidden, and brought his stool with him.  john. 
Look Mistress, how they stare one at another?  Iar. 
Yes, and swell like a couple of gibbed Cats, met both by chance i'th' dark, in an old Garret.  Wid. 
Look, look, now there's no fear of the wild beasts, they have forgot their spleens, and look prettily, they fall to their pasture, I had thought they had been angry, and they are hungry.  Iar. 
Are they none of Duke Humfrey's furies, do you think, that they devised this plot in Paul's to get a dinner?  Wid. 
Time may produce as strange a truth.  
Let's note them.  Enter Randal. Rand. 
Her loved her once, her loved her no more,  
Saint Travis so well as her loved her then.  Wid. 
Another Bar, this is the Cook-maids leaving, open the door, and this is the daintiest dish she has sent in, a Widgia in Welsh sauce— pray let's make a merry day on't.  Rand. 
What do her keep open house, had her heard her was widows that dwelled here, are you widows good womans?  Wid. 
I want a husband Sir.  Rand. 
Angle Randalls comes in very good times, you keep Ordinaries her think, what have you set a cat before gallants there?  Iar. 
They will eat him for the second course— these are suitors to my Mistress sure, things that she sleights, set your fear boldly in, Widows are not caught as maids kiss, faintly, but as Mastiffs fight, valiantly.  Rand. 
Is her so, I pray bid her Mistress observe Randalls for valours, and brave adventures?  Ant. 
Some Beer.  Wid. 
Let them want nothing.  Ant. 
Here Widow.  Wid. 
I thank you Sir.  Alex. 
Some Wine.  Iar. 
Here is Wine for you Sir.  Ran. 
Randalls will not be outbraved I warrant her.  Alex. 
Here Widow.  Wid. 
I thank you too Sir,  Rand. 
Sounds some Metheglings here.  Wid. 
What does he call for?  Iar. 
Here are some eggs for you Sir.  Ran. 
Eggs man, some Metheglings, the wine of Wales.  Iar. 
Troth sir here's none i'th' house, pray make a virtue of necessity, and drink to her in this glass of Claret.  Rand. 
Well, because her will make a great deals of necessities of virtues, mark with what a grace Randalls will drink to her Mistress.  Maid. 
He makes at you forsooth.  Wid. 
Let him come, I have ever an English virtue to put by a Welsh.  Rand. 
O noble widows, her heart was full of woes.  Alex. 
No noble Welshman, her heart was in her hose.  Rand. 
'Sounds, was that her manners to take away Randalls cups?  Ant. 
No, it showed scurvy.  Alex. 
take't you at worst then.  Ant. 
Whelp of the Devil, thou shalt see thy Sire for't.  john. Iar. 
Gentlemen what mean ye?  Randals. 
Let her come, let her come, Randalls will redeem reputations her warrant her.  Wid. 
Redeem your wit sir, first for you Sir, you are a stranger, and see you,— but you, fie Master Bloodhound.  Ant. 
Ha, Bloodhound, good sir let me speak with you.  Ran. 
Sounds, what do Randalls amongst bloodhounds, good widows lend her an ear.  Alex. 
Ancient Young, how false our memories have played through long discontinuance, but why met here man, is Mars so bad a paymaster, that our Ancients fight under Cupid's Banner?  Ant. 
Faith this was but a sudden start begotten from distraction of some fortunes, I pursue this Widow but for want of wiser work.  Iar. 
The Welshman labours at it.  Rand. 
A pair of a hundred of seepes, thirty brave Cows, and twelve dozen of Runts.  Wid. 
Twelve dozen of Goose.  Ran. 
Give her but another hark?  Alex. 
He has the mortgage still, and I have a handsome sister, do but meet at the Fountain in Fleetstreet after dinner, o I will read thee a History of happiness, and thou shalt thank me.  Ant. 
Ay, read all's well, or weapons.  Alex. 
A word jarvis?  Ran. 
Oh brave widows, her will meet her there, her know her times and her seasons, her warrant her, Randalls will make these brave Gallants hang her selfes in those garters of willow Garlands about her pates, mark her now, and remember. Exit.  Ant. 
Adieu sweet widow, for my ordinary—  Wid. 
'twas not so much worth Sir.  Ant. 
You mean, 'twere worth more then, and that's another handsomely begged.  Wid. 
You conclude women cunning beggars then.  Ant. 
Yes, and men good benefactors, my best wishes wait on so sweet a Mistress— will ye walk? Exit.  Alex. 
I'll follow ye, wilt think on't soon at night, or not at all?  Iar. 
I wood not have my wishes wronged, if I should bring it about handsomely, you can be honest?  Alex. 
Can, dost conclude me a sattin cheat?  Iar. 
No, a smooth Gallant sir, do not you fail to be here soon at nine, still provided, you will be honest, if I convey you not under her bed, throw me atop o'th' Tester, and lay me out o'th' way like a rusty bilbo.  Alex. 
Enough, drink that, fare well, Widow, Fate, the Destinies, and the three ill favoured Sisters, have concluded the means, and when I am thy Husband?  Wid. 
I shallbe your wife.  Alex. 
Do but remember these cross Capers, than ye pitter sweet one?  Wid. 
Till then adieu ye bitter sweet one.  Iar. 
This dinner would have showed better in bed-lane, and she a other side, holdeth her whole nest of suitors play, what Art decks the dark Labyrinth of a woman's heart. Exit.  Enter Mary Bloodhound, and Sim Mary. 
Marry old Earelack, is my Father mad?  Sim. 
They are both a concluding on't yonder, to morrow's the day, one wedding dinner must serve both marriages.  Moll. 
Oh Sim, the Ancient, the delicate Ancient there's a man, and thou talk'st of a man, a good face & sparkling eye, a strength body, a delicate hand, a clean leg and foot, ah sweet Sim, there's a man worth, Maidenhead.  Enter Bloodhound, and Earelacke. Sim. 
But I say, Master Earelack the old man, a foot like a Bear, a leg like a bedstaff, a hand like a hatchet, an eye like a pig, and a face like a winter pigmy, there's a man for a Maidenhead.  Mol. 
Oh look, look, oh alas what shall I do with him?  Sim. 
What, why what shall fifteen do with sixty and twelve, make a screen of him, stand next the fire, whilst you sit behind him, and keep a friend's lips warm, many a wench would be glad of such a fortune.  Blood. 
Your oath struck it dead then? o my sides.  Eare. 
Five hundred deep of your side i'faith father.  Blood. 
Moll, come hither Moll, I hope Sim has discovered the project?  Eare. 
And tomorrow must be the day Moll, both of a day, one dinner shall serve, we may have store of little ones, we must save for our family.  Mol. 
Good Sir, what rashness was parent to this madness, marry an old man— Earelack the Informer?  Blood. 
Madness— y'are a whore.  Eare. 
Is she a whore Sim?  Sim. 
She must be your wife, I tell—  Blood. 
An arrant whore, to refuse Master Innocent Earelack of Rogue-land, that for his dwelling, next that he doth Inform now and then against enormities, and hath been blanketed, it may be pumped in's time: yet the world knows, he dost not out of need, he's of mighty means, but takes delight now and then to trot up and down, to avoid Idleness, you whore.  Sim. 
Good Sir.  Eare. 
Pray Father.  Mol. 
This wound wants oil, good sir in all my paths  
I will make you my guide, I was only startled,  
And with the suddenness of the word marriage  
In that I knew, that this deserving Gentleman  
And I, had never so much conference,  
Whereby this coal of Paphos, by the rhetoric  
Of his love-stealing heart, Captivating Language,  
Might be blown into a flame.  Eare. 
Does she take Tobacco Father?  Blood. 
No, no, man, here are out of ballads,  
She has all the Garland of good will by heart.  Eare. 
Snails she may sing me asleep a nights than Sim  Sim. 
Why, right Sir, and then 'tis but tickling you o'th' forehead with her heels, you are awake again, and ne'er the worse man.  Moll 
Is he but five years older than yourself sir?  Eare. 
Nay, I want a week and three days of that too.  Blood. 
I'll tell thee an old saw for't girl, old, say he be, old blades are best, young hearts are never old.  Eare. 
Ah Hay.  Blood. 
Gold is great Glee, gold begets rest, what fault is found in Gold?  Sim. 
I will answer presently Sir, with another Saw.  Blood. 
Let's ha''t, let's hait.  Eare. 
Mark Moll.  Sim. 
Young, say she be young, young Mutton's sweet, content is above Gold, if like an old Cock he with young Mutton meets, he feeds like a Cuckold.  Blood. 
A very pretty pithy one, I protest, look and Moll d'ee not laugh, shalt have a pair of gloves for thee, what leather dost love?  Sim. 
Calf Sir, sheep's too simple for me.  Blood. 
Nay, 'tis a witty notable knave, he should never serve me else.  Enter john with a letter. john. 
My Mistress remembers her love, and requests you would endure her so much to your patience, as to read that.  Blood. 
Love letters, love lies, dost mark Sim, these Women are violent, Sim, whilst I read the lie, do you rail to him upon the Brewer, swear has deceived us, and save a cup of Beer by't.  Sim. 
I will save you a cup at that rate sir.  Eare. 
I can make thee a hundred a year jointure wench, at the first indeed, I began with petty businesses wench, and here I picked, and there I picked, but now I run through none but things of Value.  Moll. 
Sir, many thoughts trouble me, and your words carry such weight, that I will choose a time, when I have nothing else to do, to think on 'em.  Eare. 
By my troth, she talks the wittiliest, and I wood understand her.  Blood. 
Oh nimble, nimble Widow, I am sorry we have no better friends, but pray commend me, though in a blunt dry Commendations at the time and place appointed, I wonot fail, I know she has a nest of suitors, and would carry't close, because she fears surprisal.  Eare. 
What news Father?  Blood. 
Shalt lie there all night son.  Eare. 
Was that the first news I heard on't.  Blood. 
I must meet a friend i'th' dark soon, let me see, we lovers are all a little mad, do you and Moll take a turn or two i'th' garden, whilst Sim and I go up into the Garret and device, the guests come.  Sim. 
He's a little mad, and I had best hang him upon the cross beam in the Garret. Exit.  Eare. 
Come Moll, come Molkin, we'll even to the camomile bed, and talk of household stuff, and be sure thou remember'st a Trade.  Mol. 
Please ye go before Sir?  Eare. 
Nay, an old Ape has an old eye, I shall go before, and thou wilt show me a Love-trick, and lock me into the Garden, butterflies, I will come discreetly behind Moll.  Moll. 
Out upon him, what a suitor have I got, I am sorry you are so bad an Archer sir.  Eare. 
Why Bird, why Bird?  Moll. 
Why, to shoot at butts, when you should use prick-shafts, short shooting will lose ye the game, I allow you sir.  Eare. 
Her mind runs sure upon a Fletcher, or a Bowyer, howsoever, I'll inform against both the Fletcher, for taking whole money for piec't arrows, the Bowyer for horning the head men of his Parish, and taking money for his pains. Exeunt.  Enter in the Tavern, Alex. the Captain, Lieutenant, Sue Shortheeles, a whore, Mistress Cook, a Bawd. Alex. 
Some rich Canary boy.  Draw. 
Anon, anon Sir.  Alex. 
Possible thus cheated of a hundred pieces, A handsome halter, and the hangman's wages popped in the place, what an acute witness we have in wickedness.  Cap. 
'tis done, and handsomely you.  Enter Drawer. Draw. 
Here's a pottle of rich Canary, and a quart of neat claret Gentlemen, and there's a Gentleman below, he says he is your Brother, Master Bloodhound, he appointed to meet you here.  Capt. 
The expected thing that bought the Bristol stone.  Alex. 
Send him up prithee, remember how it must be carried?  Bawd 
I am her Grandmother, forget not that by any means.  Alex. 
And pray remember that you do not mumble as if you were chewing Bacon, and spoil all.  Draw. 
I warrant ye.  Enter Ancient. Alex. 
And hark.  Draw. 
Are these the company sir?  Ant. 
Yes, but those I like not, these are not they, I'll stay i'th' next room till my company come.  Draw. 
Where you please Sir, pray follow me.  Exit. Capt. 
I hear him coming up gingerly.  Alex. 
Oh he tramples upon the bosom of a Tavern with that dexterity, as your Lawyers Clerks do to Westminster Hall upon a dirty day with a pair of white silk stockings, Brother Tim, why now y'are a man of your word I see.  Tim. 
Nay I love to be as good as my say, see brother, look, there's the rest or your money upon the Ring, I cannot spend a penny, for I have ne'er a penny left, what are these, what are these?  Alex. 
Gallants of note and quality, he that fits taking  
Tobacco is a Captain, Captain Carvegut.  Tim 
He will not make a Capon of me, will he.  Alex. 
Are you not my brother?  Alex. 
He that powers out that sparkling sprightly  
Claret, is a Lieutenant under him, Lieutenant Bottom.  
He was a Sergeant first.  Tim. 
Of the Poultry, or of Woodstreet.  Alex. 
Of the Poultry, of a Woodcock:  
A Sergeant in the Field, a man of blood.  Tim. 
I'll take my leave brother, I am in great haste.  Alex. 
That delicate sweet young Gentlewoman.  Tim. 
Fough this Tobacco.  Alex. 
That bears the blush of morning upon her cheeks, whose eyes are like a pair of talking Twins.  Tim. 
she looks lust upon me.  Alex. 
I think you are in haste.  Tim. 
No, no, no pray:  Alex. 
Whose lips are beds of Roses, betwixt which  
There steals a breath sweeter then Indian Spices.  Tim. 
Sweeter than Ginger.  Alex. 
But then to touch those lips— you stay too long sure.  Tim. 
Pish I tell you, I do not, I know my time, pray what's her name?  Alex. 
But 'tis descended from the Grecian steam, the great tribute Lindabride's her name, that ancient marron is her reverent Granham.  Tim. 
Niggers I have read of her in the Mirror of Knighthood.  Alex. 
Come they shall know you.  Tim. 
Nay brother.  Alex. 
I say they shall.  Tim. 
Let me go down and wash my face first.  Alex. 
Your face is a fine face my brother Gentleman.  Capt. 
Sir, you are victoriously welcome.  Tim. 
That word has e'en conquered me.  Lieu. 
I desire to kiss your hand Sir.  Tim. 
Indeed but you shall not Sir, I went out early, and forgot to wash 'em.  Bawd 
Precious dotterel.  Capt. 
Sir, I shall call it a courtesy if you shall please to vouchsafe to pledge me.  Tim. 
What is't brother four or six?  Alex. 
four or six, 'tis rich Canary, it came from beyond the Seas.  Tim. 
I will do no courtesy at this time Sir, yet for one cup I care not, because it comes from beyond the Seas.  
I think 'tis Outlandish wine.  Sue. 
Look how it glides.  Tim. 
Now truly the Gentleman drinks as like one Master Widgen a kinsman of mine.  Lieu. 
Pox on ye hilding.  Tim. 
I ha' heard of that widgeon, I ha' been taken for him, and now I think on't, A cup of this is better than our four shilling Beer at home.  Lieu. 
You must drink another Sir, you drunk to nobody.  Tim. 
Is it the law, that if a man drinks to nobody, he must drink again.  Omnes. 
ay, ay, I. Fill his glass.  Tim. 
Why, then I will drink to nobody once more, because I will drink again.  Alex. 
Did I not tell ye. More wine there Drawer.  Sue. 
This Pageant's worth the seeing by this hand.  Tim. 
methinks this glass was better than the tother Gentlemen.  Capt. 
Oh Sir, the deeper the sweeter ever.  Tim. 
Do ye think so?  Lieu. 
Ever that when ye drink to nobody.  Tim. 
Why then I pray give me other cup that I may drink to somebody.  Bawd. 
I have not drunk yet sir.  Alex. 
Again ye Witch? drink to the young Gentlewoman.  Tim. 
Mistress Lindabrides.  Sue. 
Thanks most ingenious sir.  Ant. 
she's a little shame faced, the deeper the sweeter forsooth.  Tim. 
Pox on ye for a Coxcomb.  Enter Ancient. Ant 
I'th' next room I have seen and heard all.— Oh noble Soldiers.  Tim. 
Here Boys, give us some more wine. There's hundred Marks Gallants. 'Tis your own. And do but let me bear on Office amongst ye. I know as great a matter has been done for as small a sum. Pray let me follow the fashion.  Capt. 
Well, for once take up the money, Give me a cup of Sack. And give me your hand sir, and because our Flemish Corporal was lately choked at Delft with a Flap-dragon. Bear you his name and place, and be henceforth called Corporal Codshead. Let the health go round.  Tim. 
Round. And this go not round. Some wine there Tapster. Is there ne'er a Tapster i'th' house?  — Ancient she was himself. Alex. 
My worthy friend, thou art Master of thy word, Gentlemen 'tis Ancient Young, y'are Soldiers, come come, save cap, compliment in cup. Prithee sit down.  Ant. 
Are you a Captain sir?  Cap. 
Yes.  Ant. 
And you a Lieutenant.  Cap. 
Yes.  Ant. 
I pray where served you last?  Cap. 
Why, at the battle of Prague.  Ant. 
Under what Colonel. In what Regiment?  Cap. 
Why, let me see: but come in company: let's sit sir. True Soldiers scorn unnecessary discourse, especially in Taverns.  Ant. 
'tis true, true Soldiers do: but you are Tavern-rats.  Cap. 
How?  Alex. 
Prithee.  Ant. 
Foul food that lies all day undigested,  
Upon the queasy stomach of some Tavern,  
And are spewed out at midnight.  Tim. 
Corporal Codsheads health sir.  Ant. 
In thy face fool.  Tim. 
This is a cruel Ancient.  Ant. 
Ye are but the worms of worth,  
The sons of shame and baseness,  
That in a Tavern dares outsit the Sun,  
And rather than a Whore shall part unpledged,  
You'll pawn your souls for a superfluous cup,  
Though ye cast it into the reckoning,  
The true soldier, who is all o'er, a History of man,  
Noble, and Valiant, Wisdom is the mould,  
In which he casts his Actions, such a discreet temperance  
Doth daily deck his doings, that by his modesty,  
He is guessed the son of merit, and by his mildness  
Is believed Valiant, go, and build no more  
These airy Castles of hatched fame, which fools  
Only admire and fear you for, the wiseman  
Derides and jeers ye puffs really of  
Virtue and Valour? (These fair twins  
That are borne, breath and die together) then  
You'll no more be called butterflies, but men:  
Think on't, and pay your reckoning.  Exit. Cap. 
Shall we suffer this Saunder?  Ale. 
I must go after him.  Sue. 
Kill him, and there be no more men in Christendom.  Ale. 
I know my Sister loves him, and he swears he loves her,— and by this hand, it shall go hard if he have her not, smock and all, brave excellent man, with what a strength of zeal we admire that goodness in another, which we cannot call our own. Exit.  Lieu. 
he's a dead man I warrant him.  Cap. 
But where's our Corporal, Corporal, Corporal?  Tim. 
Well, here's your Corporal, and you looks out can be quiet.  Sue. 
Look and he have not ensconced himself in a wooden Castle?  Tim. 
Is he gone that called us butterflies?  Bawd. 
Yes, yes, has taken wing, and your Brother's gone after him, to fight with him.  Tim. 
That's well, he cannot in conscience but do us the courtesy and kill him for us, come gallants, what shall we do? I'll never go home to go to bed with my guts full of four shillings beer, when I may replenish them with Sack,— Hay, now am I as lusty, methinks we two have blue beards, is there ne'er a wench to be had? Drawer bring us up impossibilities, an honest Whore, and a conscionable reckoning.  Lieu. 
Why here's all fire, wit, where he will or no.  Sue. 
Ah whore, o tempting, handsome Sir, think of a rich Wife rather.  Tim. 
Tempting handsome Sir, she is not married is she Gentlemen?  Cap. 
A woodcock springed, let us but keep him in this bacchanalian mist till morning, and 'tis done.  Tim. 
Tempting handsome Sir, I have known a woman of handsome tempting fortunes, throw herself away upon a handsome tempting Sir.  Lieu. 
Hark you sir, if she had, and could be tempted to't, have you a mind to marry: would ye marry her?  Tim. 
Oh, and a man were so, worthy tempting Sir.  Lieu. 
Give me but a piece from you.  Tim. 
And when will you give it me again?  Lieu. 
Pray give me but a piece from you, I'll pay this reckoning into th' bargain again, and if I have not a trick to make it your own, I'll give you ten for't— here's my witness.  Tim. 
There 'tis, send thee good luck with't, and go drunk to bed.  Lieu. 
Do not you be too rash, for she observes you, and is infinitely affected to good breeding.  Tim. 
I wonot speak I tell you, till you hold up your finger, or fall a whistling.  Captain 
Come, we'll pay at Bar, and to the Mitre in Breadstreet, we'll make a mad night on't, please ye sweet Ladies but to walk into Breadstreet, this gentleman has a foolish sleight supper, and he most ingenuously professes, it would appear to him, the Meridian Altitude of his desired happiness, but to have the table decked with a pair of perfections, so exquisitely refulgent.  Tim. 
He talks all sack, and he will drink no small Beer:  Bawd 
Pray lead, and he shall follow.  Sue. 
Bless mine eyes, my heart is full of changes.  Exit. Tim. 
Oh, is it so, I have heard there be more changes in a woman's heart in an hour, then can be rung up on six bells, seven days, well go thy ways, little dost thou think how thou shalt be betrayed, within this four and twenty hours, thou shalt be mine own Wife, flesh and blood, by Father and Mother, o tempting handsome Sir.  Exeunt.  

Actus. 3. Scaena. 1.  Enter john, and the Maid. john. 
But sirrah, canst tell what my Mistress means to do with her suitors?  Maid. 
Nay, nay, I know not, but there is one of them I am sure worth looking after.  john. 
Which is he, I prithee?  Maid. 
Oh john, Master Randall, john.  john. 
The Welshman.  Maid. 
The witty man, the pretty man, the singing man, he has the daintiest ditty, so full of pith, so full of spirit, as they say.  john. 
Ditties, they are the ends of old Ballets.  Maid. 
Old ends, I am sure they are new beginnings with me.  john. 
Here comes my Mistress:  Enter Widow, and jarvis. Wid. 
Who was that knocked at 'Gate?  Lar. 
Why your Welsh wooer.  Maid. 
Alas, the sight on's eyes enough to singe my little Maidenhead, I shall never be able to endure him.  Exit Maid. Enter Randall. Rand. 
When high King Henry, second ruled this land,  
the couple of her name,  
Besides her Queen, was teerely loved,  
a fair and Princely— widows,  
Hark you widows, Randalls was disturbed in cogitations, about Lands, Ploughs, and Cheese presses in Wales, and begar her have forgot where her, and her meet soon at pright dark Evenings.  Wid. 
Why on the Change, in the Dutch walks.  Rand. 
Oh haw, have her— but Randalls was talk no Dutch, pray meet her in the Welsh walk, was no Welsh walk there?  Wid. 
Fie, no, there are no Welsh Merchants there.  Ran. 
Mas, was ferry true, was aule Shentlemen in Wales, her never saw her Shamber-maid, pray where was her Shamber-maid?  Iar. 
Taken up i'th' Kitchen Sir.  Rand. 
Can her make wedding pedd pravely for Randalls, and widows?  Wid. 
Pray tell him jarvis where she can or no.  Iar. 
Sir, not to delay, but to debilitate the strength of your Active apprehension of my Mistress favour.  Rand. 
Was ferry good words.  Iar. 
Hark in your ear, she will have her nest feathered with no British breed.  Randall. 
Zounds, was not Prittish so good as English?  Iar. 
Yes, Where there's Wisdom, Wit, and Valour, but as amongst our English, we may have one Fool, a Knave, a coxcomb, and a Coward, she bid me tell ye, she has seen such wonders come out of Wales in one shirt, y'are an Ass, and she'll have none of you  Rand. 
Augh, S. Tavie, Owen Morgan, and aule her cousins, was Widow herself say so?  Wid. 
Good sir, let every circumstance make up one answer, take it with you.  Iaruis. 
And the Roman answer is, the English goose Sir.  Rand. 
Sounds, her was kill now, gog, and gogmagog, a whole dozen of shiants, make fool of Randalls, Randalls was wished to as brave match as widows was, know one Mary Bloodhound, was ha all, when her father kick up heels, and begar though her never saw her, her will send her Love letters presently, get her good wills, and go to shurch and marry, and her were eight and thirty, two hundred and nine and fifty widows, mark her now.  Iar. 
He pelts as he goes pitifully.  Enter Marry. Widow 
Where's Mary?  john. 
marry.  Wid. 
Pray go to Algate, to my sempstress for my ruff, I must use it say too morrow, did ye bid her hollow it just in the French fashion cut?  Maid. 
Yes forsooth.  Wid. 
'twas well, we have no other proof in use, that we are English, if we do not Zany them, let john go with you.  Maid. 
Yes forsooth:  Exit. Iar. 
But pray forsooth, how do you mean to dispose of your suitors?  Wid. 
Shall I tell thee, for this thou hast given him this cure, and he is past care, for old Bloodbound the Saw-monger, I writ to him, to meet me soon at ten in the dark, upon the change, and if I come not by ten, he should stay while twelve, intimating something mystically, that to avoid surprisals of other Rivals, I mean to go from thence with him to lie at his house all night, and go to Church with him i'th' morning, when my meaning is only knavery, to make myself merry, and let him cool his heels there till morning.  Iar. 
And now have I a whimsy, newly jumped into the coll of ingenious apprehensive, to sauce him daintily, that for that, what think ye of the Gentleman that brought a stool with him out of the Hall, and sat down at dinner with ye in the parlour?  Wid. 
They say he's an Ancient, but I affect not his Colours.  Iar. 
But what say ye to the mad victorious Alexander?  Wid. 
A wild mad Roarer, a trouble not worth minding.  Iar. 
He will mind you ere morning: troth Mistress There waits a Gentleman i'th' next room, that hath a long time loved you, and has watched for such an hour, when all was out of doors, to tell you so; and none being within but you and I, he desires you would hear him speak, and there's an end on't.  Wid. 
What is he?  Iar. 
An honest man.  Wid. 
How know ye?  Iar. 
Why, he told me so.  Wid. 
And why were you such a fool to take his own word?  Iar. 
Because all the wit I had could get nobody's else.  Wid. 
A Knave will ever tell you he's an honest man.  Iar. 
But an honest man will never tell you he's a knave.  Wid. 
Well sir, your Mistress dares look upon the honest man.  Iar. 
And the honest man dares look upon my Mistress. Exit.  Wid. 
'Tis the roughest bluntest Fellow.  
Yet when I take young Bloodhound to a retired collection of scattered judgement, which often lies disjointed, with the confused distraction of so many: methinks he dwells in my opinion, a right ingenious spirit, veiled merely with the vanity of youth and wildness: he looks methinks like one that could retract himself from his mad starts, and when he pleased turn tame: his handsome wildness methinks becomes him, could he keep it bounded in Thrift and Temperance: but down these thoughts, my resolve rests here in private,— But from a fool, a Miser, and a man too jealous for a little sweetness love, Cupid defend me.  Enter like a Gentleman very brave with jarvis clothes in's hand. Iar. 
And to a Widow wife,  
Nobly liberal, and discreetly Credulous,  
Cupid hath sent me.  Wid. 
Pray prove as you appear a Gentleman. Why jarvis?  Iar. 
Look ye here's jarvis hangs by Geometry, and here's the Gentleman. For less I am not that afar off taken with the Sainted praises of your wealthy beauty, your person, wisdom, modesty, and all that can make woman gracious, in this habit sought and obtained your service.  Wid. 
For heaven's sake what's your intent?  Iar. 
I love you.  Wid. 
Pray keep off.  Iar. 
I wood keep from you. Had my desires bodies  
How I could beat them into better fashion,  
And teach them Temperance, For I rid to find you;  
And at a meeting amongst many Dames,  
I saw you first: Oh how your taking eyes,  
Those active sparkling sweet discovered twins,  
In their strong captivating motion, told me  
The story of your heart, a 1000 Cupid's  
methought sat playing on that pair of Christails,  
Carrying to the swiftness of covetous Fancy,  
The very letters we spell love with.  Wid. 
Fie. Fie.  Iar. 
I have struck her to the heart, through my face  
Apparelled with this field of gravity,  
The neglected roughness of a soldier's dart.  
These diamond pointed eyes but hither through, and you will see a young spring on't, but question times fair ones.  
They'll confess, though with a blush they have often found good wine at an old bush. My blood is young, and full of amorous heats, which but branched out into these lusty veins,  
Wood play, and dally, and in wanton Turnings  
Wood teach you strange constructions.  
Let time and place then with love's old friend opportunity instruct you to be wise.  Wid. 
'Las Sir, where learned you to catch occasions thus?  Iar. 
Of a lawyer's clerk wench, that with six such Catches, leapt in five years from his Desk to his Coach drawn with four horses.  Wid. 
Do ye mean marriage?  Iar. 
Marriage a cloying meat, marry who thou wilt to make a show to shroud thee from the storms round headed opinion, that sways all the world, may let fall on thee. Me cousin? thou shalt call once in a month, or so: I'll read false Letters from a far distant Uncle, insert his commendations to thee, hug thy believing husband into a pair of handsome horns. Look upon him with one eye, and wink upon thee with other. Wouldst have any more?  Wid. 
The return of Servants, or some friendly visit will intercept us now: reassume your habit, and be but jarvis till tomorrow morning, I now by the potent truth of friendship, I will give you plenty of cause to confess I love you truly, and strongly.  Iar. 
Y'are in earnest.  Wid. 
On my life serious, let this kiss seal it.  Iar. 
The softest wax ever sealed bawdy business.  
Now for old Bloodbound, I will meet you upon the Change Sir, with a blind bargain, and then help your son to a good pennyworth: this night shall be all mirth, a Mistress of delight. Exeunt.  Enter Bloodhound, Earelacke with Letters, Sim, and Moll. Blood. 
Nay, nay, nay, mark what follows, I must bring her home dark, turn her up to bed, and here she goes to Church: my Cloak sirrah.  Sim. 
'Tis a very dark night sir, you will not have a cloak for the rain.  Blood. 
I am going to steal the Widow from I know not how many.  Sim. 
Nay, than I let your cloak for the rain alone, and fetch you a cloak for your knavery. Exit.  Blood. 
To bed, to bed— good son, what Sim I say.  Mol. 
Sir.  Blood. 
I charge ye let not one be up i'th' house, but yourself, after the clock strikes ten, nor a light be stirring, Moll, Trick up the green bedchamber very daintily.  Sim 
I shall Sir.  Blood. 
And well remembered Moll, the keys of my Compting house, are in the left pocket of my hose above i'th' wicker chair, look to them and have a care of the black box there I have often told thee of, look to that as to thy Maidenhead.  Moll. 
I shall sir.  Blood. 
Pray for me all, pray for me all.  Sim. 
Have you left out any thing for supper?  Blood. 
Out Rogue shall not I be at infinite expense tomorrow, fast too night, and pray for me.  Sim. 
An old devil in a greasy Satin doublet, keep you company.  Blood. 
Ha, what's that?  Sim. 
I say, the Satin doublet you will wear too morrow, will be the best in the company sir.  Blood. 
That's true, that's true, I come Widow, I come Wench.  Moll. 
Oh sweet Sim, what shall I do tomorrow, tomorrow must be the day, the doleful day, the dismal day, alas Sim, what dost thou think in thy conscience I shall do with an old man?  Sim. 
Nay, y'are well enough served, you know how your brother not an hour ago, lay at you to have the Ancient, one that your teeth even water at, and yet you cry, I cannot love him, I wonot have him.  Moll. 
I could willingly marry him, if I might do nothing but look on him all day, where he might not see me, but to he with him, alas I shallbe undone the first night.  Sim. 
That's true, how will you go to bed else, but remember he is a man of War, an Ancient, you are his colours, now when he has nimbly displayed ye, and handsomely folded ye up against the next fight, than we shall have you cry, o sweet Sim, I had been undone, if I had not been undone.  Moll. 
Nay, and then the old fellow would mumble me to bed.  Sim. 
A bed, a Bawd with two teeth would not mumble Bacon, so then he so sparing you, shall wear nothing, but from the Brokers at second hand, when being an Ancients wife, you shallbe sure to flourish.  Moll. 
Prithee go in and busy the old man with a piece of Reynard the Fox, that he may not disturb us, for at this hour I expect Ancient Young, and my Brother.  Sim. 
Well, I leave you to the managing of Ancient Young, while I go in and flap the old man i'th' mouth with a Fox tail. Exit.  Enter Alexander, and Ancient. Moll. 
Look, look, & he have not brought him just upon the minute, o sweet silken Ancient, my mind gives me, thee and I shall dance the shaking of the sheets together.  Alex. 
Now, you Mistress fig-tail, is the Wind come about yet, I ha' brought the Gentleman, do not you tell him now, you had rather have his room than his company, and so show your breeding.  Moll. 
Now fie upon you, by this light y'are the wickedest fellow, my Brother but abuses you, pray Sir go over again, you've a handsome spying wit, you may send more truth over in one of your well penned pamphlets, than all the weekly news we buy for our penny.  Ant. 
Pox on't, I'll stay no longer.  Alex. 
'sfoot thou shalt stay longer, we'll stay her heart her guts out.  Moll. 
Ha, ha, how will you do for a sister then?  Alex. 
Prithee Moll do, do but look upon him?  Moll. 
Yes, when I ha' no better object.  Alex. 
What canst thou see in him thou unhandsome hideous thing, that merits not above thee?  Moll. 
What would I give to kiss him?  Alex. 
Has he not a handsome body, straight legged, a good face.  Moll. 
Yes, but his lips look as if they were as hard as his heart.  Ant. 
Foot, shall try that presently.  Moll. 
Y'are basely sir conditioned,— Pagh.  Alex. 
Why, do you spit?  Moll. 
Ye may go by this light, he kisses sweetly.  Alex. 
Do but stay a little Moll, prithee Moll, thou knowest my Father has wronged him; make him amends and marry him.  Moll. 
Sweet M. Spendall spare your busy breath,  
I must have a wise man, or else none.  Alex. 
And is not he a wise man?  Moll. 
No.  Alex. 
Why?  Moll. 
Because he keeps a fool company.  Alex. 
Why, you are now in's company.  Moll. 
But birds of a feather will fly together, and you and he are seldom asunder.  Alex. 
Why you young witch, call your elder brother fool; but go thy ways, and keep thy maidenhead till it grow more deservedly despised, then are the old base boots of a half stewed Pander: Lead a Welsh Morris with the Apes in hell amongst the little devils,— or when thou shalt lie sighing, by the side of some rich fool,— remember thou thing of thread and needles, not worth three pence half penny.  Moll. 
Too late I fear I ha' been too coy, you are to be married then sir?  Ant. 
I am indeed sweet Mistress, to a Maid  
Of excellent parentage, breeding, and beauty.  Alex. 
I ha'thought of such Musicians for thee.  Ant. 
But let it not be any way distasteful unto you, that thus I tried you, for your brother persuaded me to pretend love to you, that he might perceive how your mind stood to marriage, in that (as I guess) he has a husband kept in store for you.  Alex. 
ay, I have provided a husband for thee Moll.  Moll. 
But I'll have no husband of your providing, for alas now shall have the old man whether I will or no.  Alex. 
I have such a stripling for thee, he wants one eye, and is crooked legged, but that was broke at football.  Ant. 
Alas, we cannot mould men you know.  Alex. 
he's rich, he's rich Moll.  Moll. 
ha''him and his riches good sir, y'are to be married in earnest.  Alex. 
In earnest; why, do ye think men marry as Fencers sometimes fight, in jest?  Alex. 
Shall I show her Mistress Elizabeth's Letter I snatched from thee?  Ant. 
Not, and thou lovest me.  Moll. 
Good brother let me see't, sweet brother, dainty brother, honey brother.  Alex 
No indeed, you shall not see't, sweet sister, dainty sister, honey sister.  Moll. 
Oh good sir, since so long time I have loved you, let me not die for your sake.  Alex. 
The tide turns.  Ant. 
Long time loved me?  Moll. 
Long ere you went to Sea I did.  
I have loved you very long with all my heart.  Alex. 
Think of Bess; think of Bess, 'tis the better match.  Moll. 
Ye wicked brother, Indeed I love you better, than all the Besses in the world, and if tonight I shift not into better fortunes, tomorrow I am made the miserablest wife marriage and misery can produce.  Alex. 
Is't possible?  Moll. 
Alas Sir, I am to marry an old man, a very old man, trust me, I was strange in the nice timorous temper of a Maid, I know against our sex to say we love, but rather than to match with sixty and ten, threescore and ten times I wooed tell you so, and tell them ten times over too, truth loves not virtue with more of virtuous truth, than I do you, and wonot you love me then? Weeps.  Ant. 
And lie with thee too by this hand Wench, come let us have fair weather, thou art mine, I am thine, there's an end of the business, this was but a trick, there's the projector.  Moll. 
Oh y'are a sweet brother.  Alex. 
And now thouart my sweet Sister, I know the old man's gone to meet with an old wench that will meet with him, or jarvis has no juice in's brains, and while I i'th' mean time, set another wheel a going at the Widows, do thou soon about ten, for 'tis to be very conveniently dark, meet this Gentleman at the nag's head corner, just against Leaden-hill, we lie in Lime-street, thither he shall carry thee, Accommodate thee daintily, all night with Mistress Dorothy, and marry thee i'th' morning very Methodically.  Moll. 
But I have the charge of my Father's keys, where all his writings lie.  Ant. 
How all things jump in a just equivalency, to keep thee from the thing of threescore and ten, didst thou not see my Mortgage lately there?  Moll. 
Stay, stay.  Alex 
A white devil with a red fox tail, in a black box.  Mol 
But yesterday my father showed it me; & swears if I pleased him well, it should serve to jump out my portion.  Ant. 
Prove thine old Dad a Prophet, bring it with thee Wench.  Moll 
But now at's parting, he charged me to have a care to that, as to my Maidenhead.  Alex. 
Why, fine have thy Maidenhead and that into the bargain, thy charge is performed, away, get thee in, forget not the hour, and you had better fight under Ancient Young's colours, than the old Man's standard of sixty and ten. Exit.  Mol. 
Remember this, madbrain.  Exit.  

Actus 4. Scaena. 1.  Enter Sue, Tim, Captain, and Bawd. Tim. 
Ha, ha, ha, Grandmother, I'll tell thee the best jest.  Sue. 
Prithee chick.  Bawd. 
jest quotha, here will be jesting of all sides I think, if jarvis keep his word.  Tim. 
Sirrah, whilst thou wert sent for into the next room, up came our second course, amongst others in a dish of blackbirds, there lay one, that I swore was a Woodcock, you were at Table Captain.  Cap. 
That I was, and our brave mad crew, which for my sake you were pleased to make welcome.  Tim. 
Pish, we'll have as many more tomorrow night, but still I swore 'twas a Woodcock: she swore 'twas a backbird, now who shall we be tried by, but Sergeant Sliceman, Captain Carveguts' cousin here, a trifling wager, a matter of the reckoning was laid, the Sergeant swore 'ttwas a backbird, I presently paid the reckoning, and she clapped of the breast presently, and swore 'twas a Woodcock, as if any other wood pass after the reckoning was paid.  Bawd. 
This was a pretty one I protest.  Tim. 
Made sure before such a mad crew of witnesses, sirrah, Granham, all's agreed, Sue's—.  Sue. 
ay you may see, how you men can betray poor maids.  Enter Lieutenant. Lieu: 
Do you hear Corporal, yonder's Sergeant Sliceman, and the brave crew that supped with us have called for three or four gallons of wine, and are offering money.  Tim. 
How, prithee Granham look to Dab, do you two but hold them in a talk, whilst I steal down and pay the reckoning.  Lieu. 
Do't daintily, they'll stay all night.  Tim. 
That's it I would have man, we'll make them all drunk, they'll never leave us else, and still as it comes to a crown, I'll steal down and pay it in spite of their teeth, remember therefore that ye make them all drunk, but be sure you keep me sober to pay the reckonings.  Omnes. 
Agreed, agreed.  Bawd. 
Oh jarvis, jarvis, how I long till I see thee.  Exeunt. Enter Mol Bloodhound, and Sim, with a letter, Mol. 
There we must meet soon, and be married tomorrow morning, Sim, is't not a mad brother?  Sim. 
Yes, and I can tell you news of a mad Lover.  Moll. 
What is he in the name of Cupid?  Sim. 
Why one Master Randalls, a Welshman, I have had such a fit with him, he says he was wished to very wealthy Widow, but of you he has heard much Histories, that he will marry you, though he never saw you, and that the parboiled Aetna of his bosom, might be quenched by the consequent pastime, in the prittish flames of his prittish blood, he salutes you with that love letter.  Mol. 
This is a mad Lover indeed, prithee read it.  Sim, 
Mas, has writ it in Welsh English, we had been spoiled else, for want of an interpreter, but thus he begins, Mistress Maries.  Mol. 
He makes two Maries serve one Mistress?  Sim. 
Ever while you live, 'tis your first rule in Weleh Grammars, that her forsake widows, and take Maids, was no crete wonder, for Sentlemen ever love the first cut.  Mol. 
But not o'th' coxcomb, he should have put in that.  Sim. 
The coxcomb follows by consequence, mark else. I Randall crack, of Carmarden, do love thee Mary Ploodbounds, of Houndsditch, dwelling Aulgate, and Pishop's gate, just as between hawk and buzzard.  Moll. 
He makes an indifferent wooing,  Sim. 
And that her loves Maryes so monstrous, yet never saw her, was because her hear her in all Societies so ferry fillanously commended, but specially before one Master pussy Constables of her Parish, who made herself half foxed by swearing by the Wines, that Maries would be monstrous good Marriages for Randalls.  Mol. 
Master busy it seems was not idle.  Sim. 
If Maries can love a Prittaine of the blood of Cadwalader, which Cadwalader, was Prutes great Grandfather. Randalls was come in proper persons, pring round sillings in her pockets, get father's good will, and go to Surch a Sunday, with a whole dozen of Welsh Harps before her, so her rest her constant Lovers, Randall William, ap Thomas, ap Tavy, ap Robert, ap Rice, ap Sheffery, Crack.  Mol. 
Fie, what shall I do with all them?  Sim. 
Why, he said, these all rest your constant Lovers, whereof, for manner's sake, he puts himself in the first place; he will call here presently, will you answer him by Letter or word of mouth.  Mol. 
Troth, neither of either, so let him understand.  Sim. 
Will ye not answer the love-sick gentleman.  Mol. 
If he be sick with the love of me, prithee tell him, I cannot endure him, let him make a virtue of necessity, and apply my hate for's health.  Sim. 
ay, but I'll have more care of the Gentleman I warrant you, if I do not make myself merry, and startle your midnight meeting, say Sim has no more wit than his Godfathers, and they were both Headmen of this Parish.  Enter Randalls. Ran. 
Farewell widows prove, her sall no Randalls have,  
widows was ferry full of wiles,  
Mary Bloodhounds now, Randalls make a vow,  
Was run for Moll a couple of miles.  Honest Simkins, what said Marie to Randals Letters? Sam. 
Y'are a mad man.  Rand. 
Augh, her was very clad her was mad.  Sim. 
The old man has money enough for her, and if you marry her, as if your project take, you may, she'll take you more than a man.  Ram. 
More than man's, what the?  Sim. 
Trough cannot you tell that, this is the truth on't, she wood be married tomorrow, to one Ancient Young a fellow she cannot endure, now she says, if you could meet her privately tonight, between ten & eleven, just at the great Crossway, by the nag's head Tavern at Leaden-hall.  Ran. 
Was high, high pump, there as her turn into grace's street.  Sim. 
There's the very place, now because you come the welcomest man in the world to hinder the match against her mind with the Ancient, there she will meet you, go with you to your lodging, lie there all night, and be married to you i'th' morning at the Tower, as soon as you shall please.  Rand. 
Becat her will go and prepare Priests presently, look ye Simkins, there is a great deal of round sillings for her, her was very lucky sillings, for came to Randalls shust for all the World as Fortune was come to Fool, tell Maryes, her will meet her, her warrant her, make many puppy Fools of Ancients, and love her very monstrously. Exit.  Sim. 
Ha, ha, ha, so, so, this midnight match shall be mine, she told me she was to meet the Ancient there, I'll be sure the Ancient shall meet him there, so I shall lie a-bed to laugh, to think if he meet her there, how she will be startled, and if the Ancient meet him there, how he will be cudgeled, beware your ribs Master Randall. Exit.  Enter old Bloodhound. Blood. 
I wonder where this young rogue spends the day, I hear he has received my hundred Marks, and my advantage with it and it may be, he went home since I went out. Iaruis was with me but even now, and bid me watch, and narrowly, for fear of some of my Rival spies: For I know she has many wealthy Suitors, all love money. This jarvis is most neat in a love business; and when we are married because many mouths much meat, I will requite his courtesy, and turn him away; the widow's all I look for.— Nay, let her fling to see I have her possessions, there's a Saw for't.  
There's thriving in Wiving: For when we bury  
Wives by half-dozens, the Money makes marry.  
Oh money, money, money, I will build thee  
An Altar on my heart, and offer to thee  Enter john and jarvis 
My morning longings, and my evening wishes,  
And hadst thou life, kill thee with covetous kisses.  Ioh. 
But now and she speak she spoils all, or if he call her by my Mistress his name, hast thou no: tricks to enjoin them both to silence till they come sure.  Iar. 
Phaw, that's a stale one, she shall speak to him in her own accent, he shall call her by her own name leaving out the Bawd, yet she shall violently believe he loves her, and he shall confidently believe the same which he requires, and she but presents. Enter Mistress Coote.  
Fall off, she comes.  Bawd. 
jarvis.  Iar. 
Here I have discovered him, 'tis he by his coughs, remember your instructions, & use few words, for though till tonight you knew it not, and will he married early in the morning, to prevent a vintner's Widow, that lays claim to him.  Blood. 
jarvis.  Bawd. 
Good old man, I know him by his tongue.  Blood. 
Is she come? is she come jarvis?  Iar. 
Ask her if she wood live sir, she walks a loose yonder.  Blood. 
We shall cozen all her wooers.  Iar. 
Nay, amongst all of you, we'll cozen one great one, that had laid a pernicious plot this night, with a cluster of his roaring friends to surprise her, carry her down to the water side, pop her in at Puddle-dock, and carry her to graves's end in a pair of Oars.  Blood. 
What, what is his name I prithee.  Iar. 
he's a Knight abounding in deeds of charity, his name Sir Nicholas Name.  Blood. 
And wood he pop her in at Puddle-dock?  Iar. 
And he could but get her down there.  Blood. 
By my troth we shall pop him fairly, where is she? where is she?  Iar. 
Ha, do you not perceive a fellow walk up and down muffled yonder?  Blood. 
There is something walks.  Iar. 
That fellow has dogged us all the way, and I fear all is frustrate.  Blood. 
Not I hope man.  Bawd. 
This 'tis to be in love, if I do not dwindle.  Iar. 
I know him now.  Blood. 
'tis none of Sir Nicholas spies, is't?  Iar. 
He serves him.  Blood. 
He wonot murder me, will he?  Iar. 
He shall not touch you, only I remember this afternoon, this Fellow by what he had gathered by caves dropping, or by frequent observation, asked me privately if there were no meeting betwixt you and my Mistress tonight in this place, for a Widow he said he knew you were to meet.  Blood. 
Good.  Iar. 
Now I handsomely threw dust in's eyes, and yet kept the plot swift a foot too, I told him you were here to meet a Widow too, whom you long loved, but would not let her know't till this afternoon, naming to him one of my Ants, a Widow by Fleet-ditch, her name is Mistress Grey, and she keeps diverse Gentlewomen lodgers.  Blood. 
Good again.  Iar. 
To turn the scent then, and to cheat Inquisition the more ingeniously.  Blood. 
And to bob Sir Nicholas most neatly.  Iar. 
be sure all this night studably in the hearing of any that ye shall but suspect to be within hearing to call her nothing but Mistress Coote.  Blood. 
Or Widow Coote.  Iar. 
Yes, you may put her in so, but be sure you cohere in every particle, with the precedent Fallacy, as that you have loved her long, though till this day, and so as I did demonstrate.  Blood. 
But how and she wooed say she is not Widow Come, and that she knows no such woman, and so spoil all?  Iar. 
Trust that with her wit, and my instructions we suspected a spy, and therefore she will change her voice.  Blood. 
Thou hast a delicate Mistress of her.  Iar. 
One thing more, and ye meet presently, mine Aunt has had mine husbands, tell her you'll hazard a limb and make the tenth.  Blood. 
Prithee let me alone, and Sir Nicholas were here himself, he should swear 'twere thine Aunt.  Iar. 
Go forwards towards him, be not too full of prattle, but make use of your instructions.  Blood. 
Who's there, Widow Coote?  Bawd. 
Master Bloodbound as I take it.  Blood. 
she changes her voice bravely, I must tell thee true Widow, I have loved thee long time, look how the Rogue looks, but had never the wit to let thee know it till today.  Bawd. 
So I was given to understand Sir.  Iar. 
Is't not a fool finely?  john. 
Handsome by this hand.  Blood. 
I like thy dwelling well upon the Fleet ditch.  Bawd. 
A pretty wholesome Air Sir, in the Summer time.  Blood. 
Who would think 'twere she jarvis?  Iar. 
I told ye she was tutored.  Blood. 
I'll home with her presently, some stays up i'th' dark.  Iar. 
Fool and he have any private discourse with her, they discover themselves one to another, and so spoil the plot, no trick, no by no means sir, to hazard your person with her, the bold rogue may come up close to discover her to be my Mistress, and recover her with much danger to you.  Blood. 
He has got a dagger.  Iar. 
And a sword six foot in length, I'll carry her home for you, therefore not a light be stirring; for I know your Rivals will watch your house, Sim shall show us the chamber, we'll conduct her up i'th' dark, shut the door to her above, and presently come down and let you in below.  Blood. 
There was never such a Iaruis heard off, bid Sim to be careful, by the same token, I told him he should feed tomorrow for all the week after: good night Widow, Coote my man stayeth up, we will bob Sir Nicholas bravely. Good night sweet widow Coote. I do but seem to part, we'll meet at home wench. — Exit.  Bawd. 
Adieu my sweet dear heart.  Iar. 
Go you with me, so, so, I will Cage this cuckoo, and then for my young Madcap, if all hit right, this morning's mirth shall crown the Craft o'th' night, follow me warily.  Bawd. 
I warrant thee jarvis, let me alone to right myself into the garb of a Lady: Oh strange to see how dreams fall by contraries, I shall be coached tomorrow, and yet last night dreamed I was carted: prithee keep a little state, go jarvis. Exit  Enter Randall. Randall. 
Was ferry exceeding dark, but here is high pumps, sure here is two copy of cross ways, and there was the street where Grace dwells, one hundred pound in mornings in round shillings, and wife worth one thousand ere her go to bed. Randalls fortunes comes tumbling in, like lawyer's Fees, huddle upon huddle.  Moll. 
Oh sweet Ancient, keep thy word, and win my heart, They say, a Moonshine night is good to run away with another man's wife, but I am sure a dark night is best to steal away my Father's daughter.  Rand. 
Mary.  Moll. 
Oh, are ye come Sir? there's a box of Land and livings, I know not what ye call it.  Rand. 
Lands, and livings?  Moll. 
Nay, nay, and we talk, we are undone, do ye not see the Watch coming up Gracious-street yonder, this Cross way was the worst place we could have met at, but that is yours, and I am yours, but good Sir do not blame me, that I so suddenly yielded to your love, alas you know what a match an't I should have tomorrow else.  Rand. 
Her means the scurvy Ancient.  Moll. 
I'th' morning we shall be Man and Wife, and then, alas I am undone, the Watch are hard upon us, got you back through Cornhill, I'll run round about the Change, by the Church corner: down Cat-eaten street, and meet you at Bartholomew Lane end. Exit.  Rand. 
cat's street was call her, sure Randalls was wrapped in mother's smock. Exit.  Enter Constable, and Watch. Const. 
Keep straight towards Bishopsgate, I am deceived and I heard not somebody run that way.  Enter Chambermaid, Hugh with a Band box. Watch. 
Stay Sir, here's somebody come from Aldgate-ward?  Maid. 
Alas, I shall be hanged for staying so long for this Cuff.  Watch. 
Come before the Constable here.  Maid. 
Let the Constable come before me and he please.  Const. 
How, how, where ha' you been pray Dame, ha?  Maid 
For my Mistress Ruff, at her Seamstress Sir, she must needs use it tomorrow, and that made me stay till 'twas done.  Const. 
Pray who's your Mistress, where dwell ye?  Maid. 
With one Mistress Wag in Blackfriars, next to the sign of the Feathers and the Fool sir.  Const. 
Oh, I know her very well, make haste home, 'tis late. Come, come, let's back to Gracechurch, all's well, all's well.  Enter severally Ancient and Moll. Ant. 
I scaped the Watch at Bishopsgate with ease, there is somebody turning down the Church corner towards the Exchange, it may be Mistress Mary.  Moll. 
Ancient.  Ant. 
Yes.  Moll. 
Are ye here again, you have nimbly followed me; what said the Watch to ye?  Ant. 
I passed them easily, the gates are but now shut in.  Moll. 
As we go, I'll tell you such a tale of a Welsh wooer, and a lamentable Love-letter.  Ant. 
Yes, Sim told me of such a Rat, and where he lodges, I thought I should have met him here.  Moll. 
Here, out upon him:— But the Watches walk their station, and in few words is safety, I hope you will play fair, and lodge me with the Maid ye told me of.  Ant. 
She stays up for us Wench, in the word of a Gentleman, all shall be fair and civil.  Moll. 
I believe you.  Exeunt. Enter at several doors Randalls and Maid. Rand. 
zounds was another Fire Drake walk in Shange, we'll run pack, mass Maryes have saved her labours, and was come after Randalls, Maryes was Randall that loves her mightily Maryes.  Maid. 
Master Randall.  Rand. 
How did Watch let her go at grace's street?  Maid. 
They knew me, and let me pass.  Rand. 
Well now, her understands Maryes loves Randalls so mighty deal.  Maid. 
If john have not told him, I'll be hanged.  Rand. 
Maryes shall go with Randalls to lodgings, and that her Father work no divorcements, he will lie with her all t'night, and marry her betimes next morning, mean time her will make Lands and Livings fast.  Maid. 
How Father? this is a mistake sure, and to fashion it fit for mine own following, I will both question and answer in ambiguities, that if he snap me any way, I may make myself good i'th' tother, and as he shall discover himself, I'll pursue the conceit accordingly: but will ye not deceive me, many minds are many men's Almanacs, the dates of your desire's out, we serve for nothing but to light Tobacco.  Rand. 
If Randall false to Maryes prove,  
Then let not Maryes Randalls love:  
For Randalls was so true as Jove,  
And Maryes was her joy.  
If Randalls was not Pritaine borne,  
Let Maryes Randalls prow adorn.  
And let her give a foul great horn to Randalls,  
Her will love her cret deal of much her warrant her.  Maid. 
And 'tis but venturing a maidenhead, if the worst come to the worst, it may come back with advantage. Exit.  Enter in her night-clothes, as going to bed Widow and Maid. Wid. 
Is not Mary come home yet?  Maid. 
No forsooth.  Wid. 
'tis a fine time of night, I shall thank her for't, 'tis past eleven I am sure. Fetch, the prayer-book lies within upon my bed.  Maid. 
Yes forsooth.  Exit. Widow. 
I wonder what this Gentleman should be that catched me so like jarvis, he say he has fitted old Bloodhound according to his quality— but I must not let him dally too long upon my daily company, Lust is a hand-wolf, who with daily feeding, one time or other takes a sudden start upon his benefactor.  Enter Maid. Maid. 
Oh Mistress, mistress.  Wid. 
What's the matter wench?  Maid. 
A man, a man under your bed Mistress.  Wid. 
A man, what man?  Maid: 
A neat man, a proper man, a well-favoured man, a handsome man.  Wid. 
Call up john, where's jarvis?  Maid. 
Alas, I had no power to speak, his very looks are able to make a woman stand as still as a miller's horse when he's lading, o he comes, he comes. Exit.  Enter Alexander. Wid. 
How came you hither Sir? how got you in?  Alex. 
As Citizens wives do into Masks, whether I wooed or no nay, nay, do not doubt the discretion of my constitution: I have brought ne'er a groat in my bosom, and by this hand, I lay under thy bed, with a heart as honest, and a blood as cold, as had my sister lay near top— will ye have me yet?  Wid. 
You are very rude, uncivil fellow.  Alex. 
uncivil, and lay so tame while you set up your foot upon the bed, to untie your shoe, such another word, I will uncivillize that injured civility which you so scurvily slander, and reward you with an undecency proportionable to your understandings, will ye have me, will you marry me?  Wid. 
You, why tomorrow morning I am to be married to your Father.  Alex. 
What, to sixty, and I know not how many, that will lie by your side, and divide the hours with coughs, as Cocks do the night by instinct of Nature.  Wid. 
And provide for his family all day.  Alex. 
And only wish well to a fair wife all night.  Wid. 
And keep's credit all day in all companies.  Alex. 
And discredit himself all night in your company.  Wid. 
Fie, fie, pray quite my house Sir.  Alex. 
Yours, 'tis my house.  Wid. 
Your house, since when?  Alex. 
Even since I was begotten, I was borne to't, I must have thee, and I will have thee, and this house is mine, and none of thine.  Enter jarvis. Iar. 
Oh Mistress, the saddest Accident i'th' street yonder.  Wid. 
What Accident prithee?  Iar. 
You must pardon my boldness, into your bedchamber, there is a Gentleman slain in a fray at the door yonder, and the people wonot be persuaded, but that he that did it, took this house, there is the Constable, Churchwardens, and all the Headmen of the Parish, be now searching, and they say they will come up hither to your bed chamber, but they'll find him, I'll keep them down as long as I can, I can do no more than I can. Exit.  Wid. 
Are not you the murderer Sir?  Alex. 
I ha' been under thy bed by this hand this three hours.  Wid. 
Pray get you down then, they will all come up, and find you here and all, and what will the Parish think then? pray get you down.  Alex. 
No, no, no; I will not go down now I think on't. makes himself unready.  Wid. 
Why, what do you mean, you will not be so uncivil to unbrace you here?  Alex. 
By these Buckles I will, and what they will think on't—  Wid. 
Alas, you will undo me.  Alex. 
No, no, I will undo myself look ye.  Wid. 
Good Sir, I will off with my doublet to my very shirt.  Iarvis. 
Pray sir have more care of a Woman's reputation.  Alex. 
Have a care on't thyself Woman, and marry me then.  Wid. 
should they come up and see this: what could they think, but that some foul uncivil Act of shame had this night stained my house, and as good marry him as my name lost for ever.  Alexand. 
Will you have me afore other sleeve goes off?  Wid. 
Do, hang yourself, I will not have you— look, look, if he have not pulled it off quite, why you wonot pull off your boots too will you?  Alex. 
Breeches and all by this flesh.  Wid. 
What, and stand naked in a Widow's Chamber.  Alex. 
As naked as Grantham steeple, or the Strand Maypole by this spur, and what your grave Parishioners will think on't?  Iar. 
Gentlemen pray keep down.  Wid. 
Alas, they are at the stair's foot, for heaven's sake Sir.  Alex. 
Will you have me?  Wid. 
What shall I do? no.  Alex, 
This is the last time of asking, they come up, and down go my breeches, will you have me?  Widow. 
ay, ay, ay, alas, and your breeches go down  
I am undone for ever.  Alex. 
Why then kiss me upon't, and yet there's no cracking your credit, jarvis is come in, jarvis.  Enter jarvis. Iar. 
I have kept my promise Sir, y'are catched the old one.  Wid. 
How catched, is there nobody below then?  Iar. 
nobody but john, for sooth, recovering a Tobacco snuff, that departed before supper.  Wid. 
And did you promise this Sir?  Iar. 
A woman cannot have a handsomer cloud, than a hare-brained Husband: I will be your coz, he shall be my Cuckold.  Wid. 
I love ye for your Art.  Iarvis. 
Come, Come, put on Sir, I have acquainted ye both with your Father's intended marriage, i'th' morning you shall certify him very early by Letter, the quality of your fortunes, and return to your obedience, and that you and your wife, still concealing the parties, will Attend him to Church, john and I'll be there early, as commanded by my Mistress, to discharge our attendance: about goes the plot, out comes the project, and there's a wedding dinner dressed to your hands.  Alex. 
As pat as a fat Heir to a lean Shark, we shall hunger for't, honest jarvis, I am thy bedfellow tonight, and tomorrow thy Master.  Wid. 
Y'are a fine man to use a woman thus?  Alex. 
Pish, Come, come, fine men must use fine Women thus, 'tis fit, plain truth takes Maids, widows, are won with wit.  Iarvis. 
You shall wear horns with wisdom, that is in your pocket.  exeunt.  

Actus 5. Scaena. 1.  Enter Sim, and john, passing over with a Basin of Rosemary, and a great Flagon with Wine. Sim. 
Come john, carry your hand steadily, the guess drop in a pace, do not let your wine drop on't.  john. 
'tis as I told thee, Master Alexander, thy Mistress eldest son will be here.  Sim. 
Rose, I pray burn some pitch i'th' Parlour, 'tis good against ill airs, Master Alexander will be here.  Exeunt. Enter old Bloodhound, and larvis. Blood. 
I am up before ye son Earelack, will Ancient Young be here with a rich Wife too? thy Mistress is not stirring yet sirrah, I'll hold my life the Baggage slip to thy Mistress, there they have e'en locked the door to them, and are tricking up one another: oh these women! but this Rogue Tim, he lay out tonight too, he received my hundred Mark, and I fear is murdered: Truss, truss, good jarvis.  Iar. 
He has been a-wooing Sir, and has fetched over the delicat'st young Virgin, her Father died but a week since, and left her to her marriage, five thousand pound in money, and a parcel of Land, worth three hundred Perannum.  Blood. 
Nay, nay, 'tis like, the boy had ever a captivating tongue to take a woman— o excellent money, excellent money, Mistress of my devotions, as if my Widow's estate is little less too, and then Sander, he has got a monied woman too, there will be a bulk of money, Sim is puling sir, I may tell thee, one that by nature's course, cannot live long: tother, a Midnight sunset cuts off, then have I a trick to cozen both their widows, and make all mine, o jarvis, what a monied generation shall I then get upon thy Mistress?  Iar. 
A very virtuous brood.  Blood. 
Hast done?  Iar. 
I have done Sir.  Blood. 
I'll in and get some music for thy Mistress, to quicken her this morning, and then to Church in earnest, 'tis done, where is Sir Nicholas Nemo and his words that watch so for her? Ha, ha, ha, all's mixed with honey, I have mirth, a sweet young Widow and her money, o that sweet Saint, called money.  Enter Alexander, Widow, Ancient, Moll and Sim. Ant. 
joy I, and a 100 pound a year in a black box to the bargain given away i'th' dark last night, to we know not who, and to be heard of we know not when. 'sfoot and this be joy, wood we had a handful, some slice of sorrow to season it.  Alex. 
By this light 'twas strange.  Mol. 
Believe me Sir, I thought I had given it you, he that took it called me by my name.  Sim. 
Did he speak Welsh or English?  Moll. 
Alas, I know not, I enjoined him silence seeing the Watch coming, who parted us.  Sim. 
If this were not Master Randalls of Randall Hall that I told ye of, I'll be flayed.  Alex. 
Be masked, and withdraw a while, here comes our Dad.  Enter Bloodhound, Sir Marmaduke Many minds, Sir janus Ambodexter, and Master busy. Blood. 
Why Master Busy, asleep as thou standst man?  Sim. 
Some horse taught him that 'tis worth god a mercy.  Const. 
I watch all night, I protest Sir the Counters pray for me, I send all in Cut and long tail.  Sir Marma. 
What, what?  Const. 
I sent twelve Gentlewomen, our own neighbours last night, for being so late but at a woman's labour.  Blood. 
Alas Sir, a woman in that kind you know must ha' help.  Const. 
What's that to me? I am to take no notice of that, they might have let her alone till morning, or she might have cried out some other time.  Sir Mar. 
Nay, nay, Master Busy knows his place I warrant ye.  Blood. 
Son Alexander welcome, and Ancient Young to, I have heard all.  Alex. 
You must pardon the meritable rudeness of the Gentlewomen Sir, in not unmasking, they entreated me to inform you: there are some i'th' house to whom they wood by no means be laid open.  Blood. 
They are witty, they are witty.  Alex. 
But for myself, I am now your most obedient virtuous Alexander.  Blood. 
Obedience, hang her virtue, let her starve; has she money? hath she money?  Alex. 
Two Chests of silver, and two Utropian Trunks, full of gold and jewels.  Blood. 
They are all Alexander's women, do ye mark?  Wid. 
Alexander was the Conqueror Sir.  Blood. 
Come, come, we'll to Church presently: Prithee jarvis whilst the Music plays just upon the delicious close, usher in the Brides, the Widow, and my Moll.  Exit. Sim. 
I tell ye true Gallants, I have seen neither of them today. Shall I give him the lie?  Blood. 
They are both locked up i'faith, trimming of one another. Oh these women, they are so secret in their business, they will make very Coxcombs of us men, and do't at pleasure to, 'tis well said friends, play, play, where's Sim?  Ant. 
How he bestirs him.  Alex. 
Yes, he will sweat by and by.  Sim 
Here is the sign of Sim Sir.  Blood 
Have the guest's Rosemary without?  Sim. 
They have Risen the Cookmaid without, but they say you have Mistress Mary within.  Alex. 
Well said Rascal.  Blood. 
Marie's above goodman Blockhead. Call my son Earelack, bid him for shame make haste.  Sim. 
He shall make haste for shame.  Exit. Blood. 
I am so busied, you must bear with me Gentlemen, they leave it all to me here.  Coast. 
But I will go charge some of the inferior guests in the king's name to fill some wine.  Blood. 
No, no, good Master Busy, we will first usher the brides.  Sim. 
Oh Gentlemen, where are you? where are you?  
Where are you Gentlemen?  Omnes. 
What's the matter?  Blood. 
Where's Moll Sim, the Widow Sim, the dainty Widow?  Sim 
There is no Moll, there is no dainty young Widow, but a damnable Bawd we found a-bed with a face like an Apple half roasted.  Omnes. 
How's this?  Blood. 
Why Gentlemen?  Ant. 
Now it works.  Blood. 
jarvis y'are a Rogue, a Cutpurse jarvis, run Sim, call my son Earelack, he shall put her into the Spiritual Court for this.  Sim. 
Nay, has put her in there already, for we found him a-bed with her.  Omnes. 
Possible.  Blood. 
Ha Boys, the Informer and the Bawd, the Bawd and the Informer have got a devil betwixt them Gentlemen.  Sim. 
Nay Sir, the jest was, that they should fall asleep together, and forget themselves, for very lovingly we found them together, like the jemini, or the two Winter mornings met together: Look, look, look where they come Sir, and jarvis between them, just like the picture of knavery, betwixt fraud and lechery.  Enter jarvis, Earelack. Iar. 
Tim is a puling Sirrah, I may tell it thee, a midnight surfeit too may cut off Sander, I'll cozen their Wives, make all mine own, and then, Oh jarvis what a moneyed generation shall I get, upon this widow Coote that hath two teeth.  Blood. 
Did we bring you to Music with a mischief Earlack? thou art a Goat, thou hast abused the best bed in my house, I'll set a Sumner upon thee.  Earla. 
Bloodhound, thou art a Usurer, and takest forty in the hundred, I'll inform against thee.  Blood. 
Are you a Bawd housewife, ha?  Bawd. 
Alas Sir, I was merely envied, betrayed by jarvis, but as I have been Bawd to the flesh, you have been Bawd to your money; so set the Hare Pie against the Goose giblets, and you and I are as daintily matched as can be sir.  Blood. 
Sim, run to the widow wags, tell her we are both abused, this jarvis is a Juggler, say.  Ant. 
I can save Sim that labour Sir, I assure you the widow is married to your son Alexander, and as a confirmation she is come herself to witness it. Discovers.  Alex. 
Your fair young daughter is wife to this Ancient, who is come likewise to witness it.  Widow. 
The plain truth is Master Bloodhound, I would entreat you to keep the kennel, the younger dog being of the better sent, has borne the game before ye.  Alex. 
We have clapped hands on't Sir, and the Priest that should have married you to her, is to marry her to me, so sister, talk for yourself.  Blood. 
Ha brave tricks and conceits, can ye dance Master Earelack?  Earl. 
Ha, ha: the old man's a little mad: but thou art not married Moll?  Mol. 
Yes indeed Sir, and will lie with this Gentleman soon at night: do you think I wood chew ram mutton, when I might swallow Venison, that's none of Venus' documents Monsieur Dottevill?  Earl. 
Pox of that Venus, she is a Whore I warrant her.  Blood. 
And were not you the other juggler with jarvis in this, heigh pass and repass.  Alex. 
Good Sir be satisfied, the Widow and my sister sung both one song, and what was't, but Crabbed age and youth cannot live together. Now we persuaded them, and they could not live together, they wood never endure to lie together, this consequently descended, there was the Antecedent, we clapped hands, sealed lips, and so fell unto the relative,  Iar. 
This was your bargain upon the Exchange Sir, and because you have ever been addicted to old proverbs, and pithy Saws, pray let me seal up the mistake with one that will appear very seasonably.  Blood. 
And I pray let's hear it sir.  Sim. 
You, a new fangled fowler, came to show your Art i'th' dark, but take this truth, you catched in truth a cuckoo for't. Enter Tim.  Blood. 
Heyday, we are cheated by the rule i'faith, now sirrah, they say you are to be married too.  Tim. 
Yes indeed Father, I am going to the business, and Gentlemen all, I am come whether you will or no, to invite ye all to my marriage, to this Gentlewoman, who though a good face need no Mask; she's masked to make a man think she has a scurvy face, when I know she has a good face, this is Sack to them and out of their Element.  Blood. 
But sirrah, setting aside marriages, where's my hundred Mark you went to receive?  Tim. 
Hum, upon such a match of mine, talk of a hundred Mark, this is to drink ignoble son shillings beer, a hundred Mark, why your Lawyer there can clear such a trifle in a Term, and his Clients ne'er the better.  Blood. 
Such a match, I pray discover her, what is she?  Tim. 
What is she, here's my Brother knows what she is well enough, come hither Dab, and be known unto you, her name is Lindabrades, descended from the Emperor Tribatio of Greece, and half Niece, some six and fifty descents to most unvanquished Claridiana.  Alex. 
Who's this? pox on't, what unmasks her .makes that Bawd yonder?  Bussy. 
I am very much deceived, and I did not send this Gentlewoman very drunk other night toth' Counter.  Tim. 
I tell thee prattling Constable, 'tis a lie, Lindabrades a Drunkard?  Alex. 
Hark ye brother, where lies her living?  Tim. 
Where, why in Greece.  Alex. 
In grease.  Sim. 
She looks as if she had sold kitchenstuff.  Alex. 
This is a common whore, and you a cheated Coxcomb, come hither, you rotten Hospital, hung round with greasy Satin, do not you know this Vermin?  Bawd. 
I winked at ye Sue, and ye could have seen me, there's one jarvis, a rope on him has juggled me into the suds too.  Const. 
Now I know her name too, do not you pass under the name of Sue Shortheels, minion?  Sue. 
Go look Master little wit, will not any woman thrust herself upon a good fortune, when 'tis offered her?  Blood. 
Sir Marmaduke, you are a justice of peace; I charge ye in the king's name, you and Master Ambodexter, to assist me with the Whore and the Bawd, to Bridewell.  Sir Mar. 
By my troth and we will, by that time we shall have an excellent stomach by that time dinners ready.  Ambodex. 
ay, ay, away with them, away with them.  Bawd. 
Oh this Rogue jarvis.  Exit. Blood. 
Now, now, you look like a melancholy dog, that had lost his dinner, where's my hundred Marks now you coxcomb?  Tim. 
Truly father, I have paid some sixteen reckonings, since I saw you, I was never sober since you sent me to the Devil yesterday, and for the rest of your money, I sent it to one Captain Carvegut, he swore to me his Father was my Lord mayor's Cook, and that by Easter next, you should have the principal, and eggs for the use indeed sir.  Blood 
Oh Rogue, Rogue, I shall have eggs for my money, I must hang myself.  Sim. 
Not afore dinner pray Sir, the Pies are almost baked. Enter Rand.  Rand. 
And Maryes now was won, and all her pusiness done, and Randalls now was run, her have made all sure I her warrant her.  Alexand. 
Look, look, yonder's the conceit, the mistake happened upon last night.  Ant. 
And the very box at's girdle.  Rand. 
Cot pless her Father Bloodhounds, Randalls have robbed Ancients her warrant her.  Ant. 
Sir 'tis known how you came by that box.  Rand. 
Augh was her so, will hear an Noble Prittaine, how her gull an English Flag?  Ant. 
And you ought to cry.  Rand. 
Oh noble Randalls, as her meet by Nagshead with Mayres Blood, brave.  Blood. 
Here's another madman.  Ant. 
Hark in your ear, you must deliver that box to me.  Rand. 
Hark in her other ear, her will not deliver her, and her were nine and forty Ancients, and five and fourscore Flags.  Ant. 
Let my foe write mine Epitaph, and if I tear not my birthright from thy bosom?  Sim. 
Gentlemen, there's Alicant i'th' house, pray set no more abroach.  Rand. 
Nay let her come with her pack of needles, Randalls can pox and bob, as well as her, her warrant her.  Blood. 
What box is that? I should know that box.  Ale. 
I will resolve ye sir, keep them asunder.  Ant. 
You will restore that box?  Rand. 
Her will not restore her, 'twas Mary Bloodhounds gave her the box, Randalls have married Mary Bloodhounds and guled Ancients, mark her now.  Wid. 
Mark him good Sir, methinks he says he has married Mary Bloodhound.  Ant. 
Hang him, he's mad!  Rand. 
'zounds, make Tog of Randalls? come out here Maries.  
Look here was Mary Bloodhounds. Enter Maid & Hugh. now, I pray tumble down of her Marybones, and ask her father blessing?  Ale. 
This, why this is your Maid Widow,  Eare. 
This is Mary the Widow's Maid man.  Alex. 
And here is Mary Ploodhound, my choleric shred of Cadwallader, married to this Gentleman, who has a hundred a year dangling at your girdle there.  Wid. 
I pray Mistress are you married to this Gentleman?  Maid. 
By six i'th' morning forsooth, he took me for Mary Ploodhound, having it seems, never seen any on's before, and I being something amorously affected, as they say to his Welsh ditties, answered to her name, lay with him all night, and married him this morning, so that as he took me for her, I took him as he was forsooth.  Sim. 
she means for a fool, I am fain to answer for you.  Blood. 
Ha, ha, ha, Cupid this twenty four hours has done nothing but cut cross capers.  Alex. 
Do ye hear, sir Bartholomew Bayard, that leap before ye look, it will handsomely become you, to restore the Box to that Gentleman, and the Magnitude of your desire, upon this dainty, that is so amorously taken with your ditties.  Rand. 
Her wail in woe, her plunge in pain.  
And yet begar her do not neither, Randalls will prove herself Prittaines borne, and because her understands Ancients was brave fellows, and great Travellers, there is her box for her.  Ant. 
I thank ye.  Rand. 
And because was no remedies, before her aule, here will Randalls embrace Maries, and take a puss— kisses.  Enter jarvis brave. Iar. 
Save ye gallants, do ye want any guess?  
Call me thy Coz, and carry it handsomely.  Blood. 
Who have we here trow?  Alex. 
Dost thou know the Gentleman that whispered to thee?  Wid. 
Oh wondrous well, he bid me call him Coz, and carry it handsomely.  Iar. 
Widow, wood I were off again.  Wid. 
Know all, this Gentleman has to obtain his Lust, and loose desires, served me this seven months, under the shape and name of jarvis.  Omnes. 
Possible?  Wid. 
Look well, do ye not know him?  Blood. 
The very face of jarvis.  Tim. 
I truly Father, and he were any thing like him,  
I would swear 'twere he.  Iar. 
I must cast my skin; and am catched— why Coz.  Wid. 
Come y'are cozened,  
And with a Noble craft, he tempted me  
In mine own house, and I bid him keep's disguise  
But till this morning and he should perceive,  
I loved him truly, intending here before ye,  
To let him know't, especially i'th' presence  
Of you Sir, that intend me for your Wife.  Ant. 
What should this mean?  Alex. 
Some witty trick I warrant thee, prithee dispatch him presently, that we were at Church.  Wid. 
First, then know ye for truth sir, I mean never to marry.  Alex. 
How Woman?  Sim. 
She has dispatched you Sir.  Widow 
And for a truth sir, know you, I never mean to be your Whore.  Blood. 
This is strange.  Wid. 
But true, as she whose chaste immaculate soul,  
Retains the Noble stamp of her integrity,  
With an undefaced perfection— perchance as these  
Nay Common Fame, hath scattered you, conceive me,  
Because pale jealousy (Cupid's angry Fool)  
Was frequent lodger at that sign of Folly;  
My husbands soon suspicious heart, that I  
In a close clouded looseness, should expose him  
To that desperate distraction of his fortunes,  
That sent him to the Sea, to nourish her,  
With your vain hope, that the Fame of frequent suitors,  
Was but a Mask of loose scapes, like men at Lotteries:  
You thought to put in for one Sir, but believe me,  
You have drawn a blank.  Rand. 
became her look ferry black indeed,  Wid. 
Oh my beloved husband,  
However in thy life, thy jealousy  
Sent thee so far to find death, I will be  
I will be married to nothing but thy memory.  Alex. 
But shall the pies be spoiled then?  Iar. 
Let her alone, if her husband do not know this.  Omnes. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.  Blood. 
Her Husband I told you was a madman.  Ant. 
Why her Husbands dead sir.  Iar. 
He is not dead Sir, he had it spread a purpose, he is in England, and in your house, and look: do ye not see him?  Wid. 
Where, where?  Iar. 
Here, here he is that hath found rash jealousy,  
Loves joys, and a wife whose discreet carriage  
Can intimate to all men a fair freedom.  
And to one be faithful, such a wife I prove,  
Her husband's glory worth a wealthy Love.  Wid. 
You are welcome to my soul Sir.  Blood. 
By my troth Master Wag this was a wag's trick indeed, but I knew I know ye, I remembered you a month ago, but that I had forgotten where I saw you.  Sim. 
I knew you were a crafty Merchant, you helped my Master to such bargains upon the Exchange last night: here has been the merriest morning after it.  Alex. 
My Pitchers broke just at the Well head, but give me leave to tell you Sir, that you have a noble Wife, and indeed such a one as wood worthily feast the very discretion of a wise man's desire, her wit ingeniously waits upon her virtue, and her virtue advisedly gives freedom to her wit, but because my marriage shall seriously proceed, I wed myself Sir to Obedience, and filial regularity, and vow to redeem in the duty of a son, the affection of a father.  Rand. 
Becat was as well spoke as Randall herself could talk.  Blood. 
All is forgotten now my best son Alexander, and that my wedding want no good company, I invite you all.  Iar. 
Come my deserving Wife,  
Wisdom this day remarries us. And Gentlemen  
From all our errors we'll extract this truth,  
Where vicious ends prepose, they stand on wheels,  
And the least turn of chance throws up their heels:  
But virtue's Lovers ever green do last,  
Like Laurel which no lightning can blast.  
FINIS.