A NEW WONDER, A WOMAN NEVER VEXED.  
A PLEASANT CONCEITED Comedy: sundry times Acted: never before printed.  
Written by WILLIAM ROWLEY, one of his Majesty's Servants.  
LONDON, Imprinted by G. P. for Francis Constable, and are to be sold at his shop at the sign of the Crane in Saint Paul's Churchyard. 1632.   

A NEW WONDER, A WOMAN NEVER VEXED.  
Actus Primus.  Enter Old Foster, Alderman Bruyne and two Factors Richard chard, and George Old Foster. 
THis air has a sweet a breath Master Bruyne.  Br. 
Your partner Sir.  O. Fost. 
ay, and in good I hope, this halcyon gale  
Plays the lewd wanton with our dancing sails,  
And makes 'em big with vaporous envy.  Br. 
'tis no more yet, but then our fraught is full  
When she returns laden with merchandise  
And safe delivered with our customage.  O. Fost. 
Such a delivery heaven send us,  
But time must ripen it? are our accounts made even?  Geor. 
To the quantity of a penny, if his agree with mines  
What's yours Richard?  Ric. 
Five hundred sixty pounds;  
Read the gross sum of your broad clothes.  Geor. 
68. pieces at B, ss, and l; 57. at 1; ss, and o.  Ric. 
Just; lead, xix ton.  O. Fost. 
As evenly we will lay our bosoms as our bottoms  
With love as merchandise, and may they both increase  
to Infinites.  Br. 
Especially at home; that golden traffic love  
Is scantier far than gold; and one mine of that  
More worth than twenty argosies  
Of the world's richest treasure.  O. Fost. 
Here you shall dig, and find your lading.  Br. 
Here's your exchange; and as in love  
So we'll participate in merchandise.  O. Fost. 
The merchant's casualty:  
We always venture on uncertain odds,  
Although we bear hopes Emblem the anchor with us.  
The wind brought it, let the wind blow't away again;  
Should not the Sea sometimes be partner with us  
Our wealth would swallow us.  Br. 
A good resolve: but now I must be bold  
To touch you with somewhat that concerns you.  O. Fost. 
I could prevent you; is't not my unthrifty brother?  Br. 
Nay, leave out the adjective (unthrifty,)  
Your brother Sir, 'tis he that I would speak of.  O. Fost. 
He cannot be named without unthrifty Sir,  
it's his proper Epithet, would you conceit  
But what my love has done for him  
So oft, so chargeable, and so expensive,  
You would not urge another addition.  Br. 
Nay Sir, you must not stay at quantity  
the name of brother  
Which is inseparable, he's now in Ludgate Sir,  
And part of your treasure lies buried with him.  O. Fost. 
ay, by vulgar blemish; but not by any good account;  
There let him howl, as the best stay he hath;  
For nothing but a prison can contain him  
So boundless is his riot; twice have I raised  
His decayed fortunes to a fair estate  
But with as fruitless charity, as if I had thrown  
My safe landed substance back into the Sea,  
Or dress in pity some corrupted jade,  
And he should kick me for my courtesy.  
I am sure you cannot but hear, what quick.  
Sands he finds out, as Dice, Cards, Pigeon-holes,  
And which is more, should I not restrain it,  
he'd make my state his prodigality.  Br. 
All this may be Sir, yet examples daily show  
To our eyes, that Prodigals return at last  
And the loudest roarer, (as our City phrase is)  
Will speak calm and smooth; you must help with hope Sir,  
Had I such a brother, I should think that heaven had  
Made him as an instrument for my best charity  
To work upon; This is a Maxim sure, Some  
Are made poor, that rich men by giving may  
Increase their store. Nor think Sir, that I do  
Tax your labours and mean myself for to stand  
Idly by, for I have vowed if heaven but bless  
This voyage now abroad, to leave some  
Memorable relic after me, that shall  
Preserve my name alive till Doomsday.  O. Fost. 
I Sir, that work is good, and therein could I  
join with your good intents, but to relieve  
A waste-good, a spendthrift.—  Br. 
O no more, no more good Sir.  O. Fost. 
Sirrah, when saw you my son Robert?  Ric. 
This morning Sir, he said he would go visit his Uncle  O. Fost. 
I pay for their meetings I'm sure; that boy  
Makes prize of all his fingers light on  
To relieve his unthrifty Uncle.  Br. 
Does he rob, introth I commend him.  O. Fost. 
'tis partly your fault, sirrah you see't, and suffer it,  Ric. 
Sir, mine's a servant's duty, his a son's,  
Nor know I better how to express my love  
Unto yourself, than by loving your son.  O. Fost. 
By concealing of his pilferings.  Ric. 
I dare not call them so; he is my second Master,  
And methinks 'tis far above my limits  
Either to check, or to complain of him.  Br. 
Gramercy Dick, thou mak'st a good construction,  
And your son Robert a natural nephew's part.  
To relieve his poor Uncle.  O. Fost. 
'tis in neither well; Sir, for note but the  
Condition of my estate; I'm lately married  
To a wealthy Widow from whom my substance  
chiefly does arise, she has observed this in her  
Son in law often complains and grudges at it,  
And what foul broils such civil discords bring,  
Few married men are ignorant of:  Enter Mistress Foster. 
Nay will you see a present proof of it.  M. Fost. 
Shall I not live to breathe a quiet hour?  
I would I were a beggar with content  
Rather than thus be thwarted for mine own.  O. Fost. 
Why what's the matter Woman?  M. Fost. 
I'll rouse 'em up, though you regard not of my just complaints  
Neither in love to me, nor preserving me from others'  
Injuries, both which y'are tied to, by all the rightful  
Laws heavenly or humane, but I'll complain  
Sir, where I will be heard.  O. Fost. 
Nay, thou'lt be heard too far.  M. Fost. 
Nay Sir, I will be heard; some awkward star  
Threw out his unhappy fire at my conception  
And 'twill never quench while I have heat in me:  
Would I were cold, there would be bonfires made  
To warm defame, my death would be a Jubilee to some.  O. Fost. 
Why Sir, how should I minister remedy and know not the cause.  Br. 
Mother a pearl, woman, show your husband the cause,  M. Fost. 
Had he been a husband Sir, I had had no cause to Complain, I threw down at his feet  
The subjection of his whole estate:  
He did not marry me for love's sake nor for pity,  
But love to that I had, he now neglects the love  
He had before; A prodigal is suffered to lay waste  
Those worldly blessings, which I long enclosed,  
Intending for good uses.  O. Fost. 
That's my son.  M. Fost. 
ay, thou knowest it well enough, he's the Conduit pipe that throws it forth into the common shore.  O. Fost. 
And the other's my brother.  M. Fost. 
You may well shame, as I do grieve the kindred,  
But I'd make the one a stranger, the other a servant,  
No son, nor brother; For they deserve neither  
Of those offices.  O. Fost. 
Why did I ever cherish him, have not I threatened  
Him with disinheritance for this disorder?  M. Fost. 
Why do you not perform it?  O. Fost. 
The other's in Ludgate.  M. Fost. 
No; he's in my house, approving to my face  
The charitable office of his kind Nephew,  
Who with his pilfering purloined from me,  
Has set him at liberty; if this may be suffered  
I'll have no eyes to see.  O. Fost. 
Prithee content thyself; I'll see a present  
Remedy; sirrah, go call 'em in; this worthy  
Gentleman shall know the cause, and censure  
For us both with equity.  Br. 
Nay good Sir, let not me be so employed,  Enter Robin and Stephen Foster. 
For I shall favour one for pity, the other for your love's sake,  O. Fost. 
Now Sir, are all my words with you  
So light esteemed that they can  
Take no hold upon your duty?  Rob. 
Misconstrue not, I beseech you.  M. Fost. 
Nay, he'll approve his good deeds I warrant you.  O. Fost. 
And you Sir.  Step. 
Well Sir.  O. Fost. 
I had thought you had been in Ludgate Sir.  Step. 
Why, you see where I am Sir.  O. Fost 
Why, where are you Sir?  Step. 
In debt Sir, in debt.  O. Fost. 
Indeed that's a place you can hardly be removed  
From, but this is not a place fit for one in  
Debt, how came you out of prison Sirrah?  Step. 
As I went into prison Sirrah, by the keepers.  O. Fost. 
This was your work to let this bandog lose.  Rob. 
Sir it was my duty to let my Uncle lose.  O. Fost. 
Your duty did belong to me, and I did not command  Rob. 
You cannot make a separation Sir, betwixt  
The duty that belongs to me, and love unto  
My Uncle, as well you may bid me love my  
Maker, and neglect the Creature, which he  
Hath bid me love; if man to man join not  
A love on earth, they love not heaven, nor  
Him that dwells above it, such is my duty  
A strong correlative unto  
My Uncle why, he's half yourself.  Br. 
Believe me Sir, he has answered you well.  O. Fost. 
He has not worthy Sir, but to make void  
That false construction; here I disclaim  
The title of a brother; and by that disclaim  
Hast thou lost thy child's part; be thou engaged  
For any debts of his, in prison rot with him;  
My goods shall not purchase such  
Fruitless recompense.  Step. 
Then thouart a scurvy father, and a filthy brother.  M. Fost. 
ay, ay, Sir, your tongue cannot defame his reputation  Step. 
But yours can, for all the City reports what  
An abominable scold he has got to his wife.  O. Fost. 
If ere I know thou keep'st him company,  
I'll take my blessing from thee whilst I live,  
And that which after me should bless thy estate.  Step. 
And I'll proclaim thy baseness to the world;  
Ballads I'll make, and make 'em Tavern music  
To sing thy churlish cruelty.  O. Fost. 
Tut, tut, these are babbles.  Ste. 
Each Festival day I'll come unto thy house,  
And I will piss upon thy threshold.  O. Fost. 
You must be out of prison first Sir.  Ste. 
If e'er I live to see thee Sheriff of London,  
I'll gild thy painted posts cum privilegio,  
And kick thy Sergeants.  Rob. 
Nay, good Uncle.  Ste. 
Why, I'll beg for thee, Boy;  
I'll break this leg, and bind it up again,  
To pull out pity from a stony breast,  
Rather than thou shalt want.  O. Fost. 
ay, do; let him fear up his arm, and scarf it up  
With two yards of rope; counterfeit two villains;  
Beg under a hedge and share your bounty: but come  
Not near my house, not thou in's company, if thou'lt obey,  
There's punishment, for thee; for thee there's worse;  
The loss of all that's mine, with my dear curse.  Exeunt. Manent. Stephen and Robin. Ste. 
Churl, Dog, you churlish rascally miser.  Rob. 
Nay, good Uncle, throw not foul language;  
This is but heat Sir, and I doubt not but  
To cool this rage with my obedience:  
But Uncle, you must not then heap on such fuel.  Ste. 
coz, I grieve for thee, that thou hast undergone  
Thy father's curse, for love unto thy Uncle.  Rob. 
Tut, that bond shall ne'er be canceled, Sir.  Ste. 
I pity that i'faith.  Rob. 
Let pity then from me turn to yourself:  
Bethink yourself Sir, of some course  
That might befit your estate, and let me guide it.  Ste. 
Ha, a course? 'sfoot I hate: coz, canst lend me  
40. shillings? Could I but repair this old decayed Tenement  
Of mine with some new plaster; for alas, what  
Can a man do in such a case as this?  Reb. 
ay, but your course, Uncle.  Ste. 
Tush, leave that to me, because thou shalt wonder  
At it: If you should see me in a scarlet gown  
Within the compass of a gold chain, than I  
Hope you'll say, that I do keep myself in  
Good compass: then Sir, if the Cap of Maintenance  
Do march before me, and not a Cap be suffered  
To be worn in my presence, pray do not upbraid  
Me with my former poverty: I cannot tell, state  
And wealth may make a man forget himself;  
But I beseech you do not; there are things in my  
Head that you dream not of; dare you try me, coz?  Rob. 
Why, forty shillings, Uncle, shall not keep back Your fortunes.  Ste. 
Why, gramercy coz; now if the dice do run right,  
This 40. shillings may set me up again: To lay't on my back,  
And so to pawn it, there's ne'er a damned Broker  
In the world will give me half the worth on't:  
No, whilst 'tis in ready cash, that's the surest  
Way; 7. is better than 11. a pox take the bones  
And they will not favour a man sometimes.  Rob. 
Look you Uncle, there's 40. shillings for you.  Ste. 
As many good Angels guard thee, as thou hast given  
Me bad ones to seduce me, for these deputy devil's  
Dam worse than the old ones. Now coz, pray listen,  
Listen after my transformation; I will henceforth  
Turn an Apostate to prodigality; I will eat  
Cheese and Onions and buy lordships, and will  
Not you think this strange?  Rob. 
I am glad y'are merry, Uncle; but this is fixed  
Betwixt an Uncle and a nephew's love,  
Though my estate be poor, revenues scant,  
Whilst I have any left, you shall not want.  Ste. 
Why gramercy, by this hand I'll make  
Thee an Alderman before I die, do but  
Follow my steps.  Exeunt. Enter Widow and Clown. Wid. 
Sirrah, will the Churchman come I sent you for?  Clow. 
Yes, mistress, he will come: but pray resolve  
Me one thing for my long service; What  
Business have you with the Churchman?  
Is it to make your Will, or to get you a new  
Husband?  Wid. 
Suppose to make my Will, how then?  Clow. 
Then I would desire you to remember me, Mistress,  
I have served you long, and that's the best  
Service to a woman: make a good Will if you  
Mean to die, that it may not be said, Though  
Most women be long lived, yet they all die  
With an ill-will.  Wid. 
So Sir, suppose it be for marriage.  Clow. 
Why then remember yourself mistress;  
Take heed how you give away the head;  
It stands yet upon the shoulders of  
Your widowhood; the loving embracing Ivy  
Has yet the upper place in the house;  
If you give it to the Holly, take heed,  
There's pricks in Holly; or if you fear not  
The pricks, take heed of the wands, you  
Cannot have the pricks without the wands;  
You give away the sword, and must defend  
yourself with the scabbard; these are pretty  
Instructions of a friend; I would be loath to  
See you cast down, and not well taken up.  Wid. 
Well Sir, well, let not all this trouble you;  
See, he's come; Will you be gone?  Enter Doctor. Clow. 
I will first give him a caveat, to use you  
As kindly as he can. If you find my mistress  
Have a mind to this coupling at barleybreak,  
Let her not be the last couple to be left in hell.  Doct. 
I would I knew your meaning, Sir.  Clow. 
If she have a mind to a fresh husband, or  
So, use her as well as you can; let her enter  
Into as easy bands as may be.  Doct. 
Sir, this is none of my traffic; I sell no husbands.  Clo. 
Then you do wrong, Sir, for you take money for 'em:  
What woman can have a husband, but you must  
Have custom for him? and often the ware proves  
nought too not worth the Impost.  Doct. 
Your man's pregnant, and merry, mistress.  Wid. 
he's saucy Sir. Sirrah, you'll be gone.  Clo. 
Nay, at the second hand you'll have a fee too;  
You sell in the Church, and they bring 'em again  
To your Churchyard, you must have tollage:  
methinks if a man die whether you will or no,  
He should be buried whether you would or no.  Doct. 
Nay now you wade too far, Sir.  Wid. 
You'll be gone, Sirrah.  Clo. 
Mistress make him your friend, for he knows what rate  
Good husbands are at; if there hath been a dearth  
Of women of late, you may chance pick  
Out a good prize; but take heed of a Clerk.  Wid. 
Will you yet Sir, after your needless trouble,  
Be gone, and bid the maids dress dinner.  Clo. 
Mistress, 'tis fasting day today, there's nothing but fish.  Wid. 
Let there be store of that; let bounty furnish the  
Table, and charity shall be the voider.  
What fish is there, Sirrah?  Clo. 
Marry there is salmon, Pike, and fresh Cod,  
Soles, Maids, and Plaice.  Wid. 
Bid 'em haste to dress 'em then.  Clo. 
Nay mistress, I'll help 'em too; the maids shall first  
Dress the Pike, and the Cod, and then I'll dress  
The maids in the place you wot on.  Exit Clown. Doct. 
You sent for me, Gentlewoman?  Wid. 
Sir, I did, and to this end:  
I have some scruples in my conscience;  
Some doubtful problems which I cannot answer  
Nor reconcile; I'd have you make them plain.  Doct. 
This is my duty; pray speak your mind.  Wid. 
And as I speak, I must remember heaven  
That gave those blessings which I must relate:  
Sir, you now behold a wondrous woman;  
You only wonder at the Epithet;  
I can approve it good; Guess at mine age.  Doct. 
At the half way twixt thirty and forty.  Wid. 
'Twas not much amiss; yet nearest to the last;  
How think you then; Is not this a wonder,  
That a woman lives full seven and thirty years,  
Maid to a wife, and wife unto a widow,  
Now widowed, and mine own, yet all this while  
From the extremest verge of my remembrance,  
Even from my weaning hour unto this minute,  
Did never taste what was calamity;  
I know not yet what grief is, yet have sought  
A hundred ways for its acquaintance; with me  
Prosperity hath kept so close a watch,  
That even those things that I have meant  
A cross, have that way turned a blessing;  
Is it not strange?  Doct. 
unparalleled; this gift is singular,  
And to you alone belonging; you are the Moon,  
For there's but one, all women else are stars,  
For there are none of like condition:  
Full oft, and many have I heard complain  
Of discontents, thwarts, and adversities;  
But a second to yourself, I never knew  
To groan under the superflux of blessings,  
To have ever been a lien unto sorrow;  
No trip of fate? Sure it is wonderful.  Wid. 
ay, Sir, 'tis wonderful; but is it well?  
For it is now my chief affliction.  
I have heard you say, that the child of heaven  
Shall suffer many tribulations;  
Nay, Kings and Princes share them with their subjects;  
Then I that know not any chastisement  
How may I know my part of childhood?  Doct. 
'Tis a good doubt; but make it not extreme,  
'Tis some affliction, that you are afflicted  
For want of affliction: Cherish that;  
Yet wrest it not to misconstruction;  
For all your blessings are free gifts from heaven  
Health, wealth, and peace; nor can they turn to  
Curses, but by abuse. Pray let me question you:  
You lost a husband, was it no grief to you?  Wid. 
It was; but very small; no sooner I  
Had given it entertainment as a sorrow,  
But straight it turned unto my treble joy;  
A comfortable revelation prompts me then,  
That husband whom in life I held so dear,  
Had changed a frailty to unchanging joys;  
methought I saw him stellified in heaven,  
And singing Hallelujahs 'mongst a choir  
Of white Sainted souls: then again it spoke,  
And said; It was a sin for me to grieve  
At his best good, that I esteemed best:  
And thus this slender shadow of a grief  
Vanished again.  Doct. 
All this was happy; nor can you wrest it  
From a heavenly blessing. Do not appoint  
The rod: leave still the stroke unto the  
Magistrate; the time is not past, but  
You may feel enough.  Wid. 
One taste more I had, although but little,  
Yet I would aggravate to make the most  
On't: thus 'twas; The other day, it was my hap  
In crossing of the Thames,  
To drop that wedlock Ring from off my finger,  
That once conjoined me and my dead husband;  
It sunk, I prized it dear; the dearer, 'cause it kept  
Still in mine eye the memory of my loss;  
Yet I grieved the loss, and did joy withal  
That I had found a grief; and this is all  
The sorrow I can boast of.  Doct. 
This is but small.  Wid. 
Nay sure I am of this opinion,  
That had I suffered a draught to be made for it,  
The bottom would have sent it up again,  
I am so wondrously fortunate.  Doct. 
You would not suffer it?  Enter Clown. Wid. 
Not for my whole estate.  Clow. 
O mistress, where are you? I think you are the fortunat'st Woman, that ever breathed of two shoes: the thief is Found.  Wid. 
The thief; what thief? I never was so happy To be robbed.  Clow. 
Bring him away jug; nay, you shall see the strangest  
Piece of felony discovered that ever you saw,  
Or your great grandmother's Grandam before, or after,  
A pirate, a water thief.  Wid. 
What's all this?  Clow. 
Bring him away jug; yet the villain would not Confess a word till it was found about him.  Wid. 
I think the fellow's mad.  Clow. 
Did you not lose your wedding Ring the other day?  Wid. 
Yes Sir, but I was not robbed of it.  Enter joane with a fish. Clow. 
No; well, thank him that brings it  
Home then; and will ask nothing for his pains.  
You see this salmon?  Wid. 
Yes, what of it?  Clow. 
It cost but six pence: but had the Fisher known  
The worth of it, 'twould have cost you forty shillings.  
Is not this your Ring?  Wid. 
The very same.  Clow. 
Your maid Joan examining this salmon, that she  
Bought in the Market, found that he had swallowed  
This Gudgeon.  Wid. 
How am I vexed with blessings? how think you  
Sir, is not this above wonder?  Doct. 
I am amazed at it.  Wid. 
First that this fish should snatch it as a bait;  
Then that my servant needs must buy that fish  
Amongst such infinites of fish and buyers:  
What fate is mine that runs all by itself  
In unhappy happiness? My conscience dreads it:  
Would thou hadst not swallowed it, nor thou not bought it.  Clow. 
Alas, blame not the poor fish, mistress, he being a phlegmatic  
Creature, took Gold for Restorative. He took it fair,  
And he that gets Gold, let him eat Gold.  Wid. 
Nothing can hinder fate.  Doct. 
Seek not to cross it then.  Wid. 
About your business, you have not pleased me in this.  Ioane. 
By my maidenhead if I had thought you would  
Have ta'en it no kindlier, you should ne'er  
Have been vexed with sight on't; the garbage should  
Have been the cook's fees at this time.  Exit joane. Clow. 
Now do I see the old proverb come to pass;  
Give a woman luck, and cast her into th'sea:  
There's many a man would wish his wife good  
Luck, on that condition he might throw her  
Away so. But mistress, there's one within would  
Speak with you, that vexeth as fast against  
Crosses, as you do against good luck.  Wid. 
I know her sure then, 'tis my gossip Foster:  
Request her in; here's good company, tell her.  Clow. 
I'll tell her so for my own credit's sake.  Exit. Wid. 
You shall now see an absolute contrary:  
Would I had changed bosoms with her for a time,  
'T would make me better relish happiness.  Enter Mistress Foster and Clown. M. Fost. 
O friend and gossip, where are you? I am  
o'er loaden with my griefs, and but in your bosom  
I know not where to ease me.  Clow. 
I had rather help you to a close, stool,  
an't please you.  M. Fost. 
ne'er had woman more sinister fate;  
All ominous stars were in conjunction  
Even at my birth, and do still attend me.  Doct. 
This is a perfect contrary indeed.  Wid. 
What ails you Woman?  M. Fost. 
Unless seven witches had set spells about me,  
I could not be so crossed, never at quiet  
Never happy hour, not a minute's content.  Doct. 
You hurt yourself most with impatience.  M. Fost. 
ay, I Physicians minister with ease,  
Although the patient do receive in pain;  
Would I could think but of one joyful hour.  Clo. 
You have had two husbands to my knowledge;  
And if you had not one joyful hour between  
Both, I would you were hanged i'faith.  M. Fost. 
Full fourteen years I lived a weary maid,  
Thinking no joy till I had got a husband.  Clo. 
That was a tedious time indeed.  M. Fost. 
I had one loved me well, and then ere long  
I grew into my longing peevishness.  Clow. 
There was some pleasure ere you came to that.  M. Fost. 
Then all the kindness that he would apply,  
Nothing could please; soon after it he died.  Clow. 
That could be but little grief.  M. Fost. 
Then worldly care did so o'erload my weakness,  
That I must have a second stay; I chose again,  
And there begins my griefs to multiply.  Wid. 
It cannot be, friend; your husband's kind.  Doct. 
A man of fair condition, well reputed.  Clow. 
But it may be he has not that should please her.  Wid. 
Peace Sirrah: how can your sorrows increase from him?  M. Fost. 
How can they but o'erwhelm me? he keeps a Son  
That makes my state his prodigality;  
To him a brother, one of the City scandals;  
The tone the hand, the tother is the maw;  
And between both my goods are swallowed up;  
The full quantity that I brought amongst'em  
Is now consumed to half.  Wid. 
The fire of your spleen wastes it;  
Good sooth Gossip, I could laugh at thee, and only grieve  
I have not some cause of sorrow with thee:  
Prithee be temperate, and suffer.  Doct. 
'tis good counsel mistress, receive it so.  Wid. 
Canst thou devise to lay them half on me,  
And I'll bear ''em willingly.  M. Fost. 
Would I could, that I might laugh another while:  
But you are wise to heed at others harms;  
You'll keep you happy in your widowhood.  Wid. 
Not I in good faith, were I sure marriage  
Would make me unhappy.  M. Fost. 
Try, try, you shall not need to wish;  
You'll sing another song, and bear a part  
In my grief's descant, when y'are vexed at heart:  
Your second choice will differ from the first:  
So oft as widows marry they are accursed.  Clo. 
ay, cursed widows are; but if they had all stiff husbands  
To tame ''em, they'd be quiet enough.  Wid. 
You'll be gone Sir, and see dinner ready.  Clo. 
I care not if I do mistress, now my stomach's ready;  
Yet I'll stay a little and be but to vex you.  Wid. 
When go you, Sirrah?  Clo. 
I will not go yet.  Wid. 
Ha, ha, ha, thou makest me laugh at thee; prithee stay,  Clo. 
Nay then I'll go to vex you.  Exit Clown. M. Fost. 
You have a light heart Gossip.  Wid. 
So should you Woman, would you be ruled by me:  
Come, we'll dine together, after walk abroad  
Unto my suburb garden, where if thou'lt hear,  
I 'll read my heart to thee, and thou from thence  
Shalt learn to vex thy cares with patience.  Exeunt.  

Actus Secundus.  Enter Host Boxall, Stephen, Jack, Dick, Hugh. Host. 
WElcome still my merchants of bona Speranza;  
What's your traffic bullies? What aware deal you in?  
Cards, Dice, Bowls, or Pigeon-holes; sort ''em  
yourselves; either Passage, Novum, or Mumchance?  
Say my brave Bursmen, what's your recreation?  Ste. 
Dice mine Host: Is there no other room empty?  Host. 
Not a hole unstopped in my house, but this my Thrifts.  jack. 
Miscall us not for our money, good mine Host, we are  
None of your thrifts; we have scaped that scandal long ago.  Dick. 
Yes, his thrifts we are Jack, though not our own.  Host. 
Tush, you are young men, 'tis too soon to thrive yet:  
He that gathers young, spends when he's old:  
'Tis better to begin ill, and end well, than to  
Begin well and end ill: Miserable fathers have  
For the most part unthrifty sons; leave not  
Too much for your heirs, Boys.  jack. 
He says well i'faith; Why should a man trust  
To executors.  Ste. 
As good trust to hangmen as to executors:  
Who's in the bowling Alley mine Host?  Host. 
Honest traders, thrifty lads, they are rubbing on't;  
Towardly Boys, every one strives to lie nearest the Mistress.  Ste. 
Give's a bail of Dice.  Host. 
Here my brave Wags.  Ste. 
We fear no Counters now mine Host, so  
Long as we have your bail so ready.  
Come, trip.  jack. 
Up with's heels.  Dick. 
Down with them.  Hugh. 
Now the dice are mine; set me now a fair  
Board; a fair passage sweet bones. Boreas.  A noise below in the bowling Alley, betting, rubbing and wrangling. Host. 
How now my fine Trundletayles;  
My wooden Cosmographers:  
My bowling Alley in an uproar?  
Is Orlando up in arms? I must be stickler;  
I am Constable, justice, and Beadle in mine  
Own house, I accuse, sentence, and punish:  
Have amongst you; look to my box Boys;  
He that breaks the peace, I break his pate  
For recompense; look to my box, I say.  Exit. Step. 
A pox o'your box, I shall ne'er be so happy to Reward it better; set me fair; aloft now.  jack. 
Out.  Step. 
What was't?  Dick. 
Two treys, and an Ace.  Step. 
Seven still, pox on't; that number of the  
Deadly sins haunts me damnably; Come Sir, throw.  jack. 
Prithee invoke not so, all sinks too fast already.  Hugh. 
It will be found again in mine host's box.  jack. 
In still, two thieves and choose thy fellow.  Step. 
Take the Miller.  jack. 
Have at them i'faith.  Hugh. 
For a thief I'll warrant you, who'll you have next.  jack. 
Two Quatres and a trey.  Step. 
I hope we shall have good cheer, when two  
cators, and a trey go toth' market.  Enter Host. Host. 
So all's whist; they play upon the still pipes now,  
The Bullbeggar comes when I show my head,  
Silence is a virtue, and I have made ''em virtuous,  
let ''em play still till they be penny less; pawn  
Till they be naked, so they be quiet, welcome,  
And welcome.  A noise above at Cards. 
How now, how now, my roaring Tamberlaine, take  
Heed the Soldan comes; And 'twere not for profit,  
Who would live amongst such Bears? why Ursa  
Major I say, what in Capite Draconis? is there  
No hope to reclaim you, shall I never live in quiet  
For you?  Dick. 
Good mine Host still ''em: civil Gamesters cannot play for'em.  Host. 
I come amongst you, you maledictious slaves; I'll  
Utter you all; some I'll take ready money for, and lay  
Up the rest in the stocks: look to my box, I say.  Step. 
Your box is like your belly mine Host, it  
Draws all; now for a suit of apparel.  jack. 
At whose suit I pray? y'are out again with the threes.  Step. 
Foot, I think my father threw three when I was  
Begotten; pox on't, I know now why I am so  
Haunted with threes.  jack. 
Why, I prithee?  Step. 
I met the third part of a knave as I came.  jack. 
The third part of a knave, 'sfoot what thing's that?  Step. 
Why a sergeant's Yeoman, man; the supervisor himself  
Is but a whole one, and he shares but a groat in the  
Shilling with him.  Dick. 
That's but the third part indeed: but goes he no further.  Step. 
No, he rests there.  Hugh. 
Come, let's give o'er.  Step. 
I thank you Sir, and so much a looser? there's but  
The waist-band of my suit left: now sweet bones.  Hugh. 
Twelve at all.  Step. 
Soft, this die is false.  Hugh. 
False? you do him wrong Sir, he's true to his Master.  Step. 
Fullum:  Dick. 
I'll be hanged then: where's Putney than I pray you  Step. 
'Tis false, and I'll have my money again.  Hugh. 
You shall have cold Iron with your silver then.  Step. 
ay, have at you Sir.  Enter Host, and young Foster. Host. 
I think he's here, Sir.  Young Foster assists his Uncle and the Host, and beat see them off; Enter the Bowlers and steal away their Cloaks. Rob. 
I am sure he's now, Sir.  Hugh. 
Hold, hold, and you be Gentlemen hold.  Rob. 
Get you gone Varlets, or there's hold to be taken.  Host. 
Nay sweet Sir, no bloodshed in my house; I am lord Of misrule, pray you put up, Sir.  Om. 
'Sfoot mine Host, where are our cloaks?  Host. 
Why, this is quarrelling; Make after in time:  
Some of your own Crew, to try the weight has  
Lifted them; look out I say.  jack. 
There will ever be thieves in a dicing house  
Till thou be'st hanged I'll warrant thee.  Exeunt Cheat. Step. 
Mine Host, my Cloak was lined through with  
Orange tawny velvet.  Host. 
How, your cloak? I ne'er knew thee worth one.  Step. 
Y'are a company of coney-catching rascals;  
Is this a suit to walk without a Cloak in?  Rob. 
Uncle, is this the reformation that you promised me?  Step. 
coz, shall I tell thee the truth; I had diminished  
But six pence of the forty shillings by chance meeting with a  
Friend, I went to a tailor, bargained for a suit, it  
Came to full forty, I tendered my xxxix and a half,  
And do you think the scabby-wristed rascal would  
Trust me for six pence.  Rob. 
Your credit is the better, Uncle.  Step. 
Pox on him, if the tailor had been a man, I had  
Had a fair suit on my back, so venturing for  
The other Tester  Rob. 
You lost the whole Bedstead.  Step. 
But after this day, I protest coz, you shall never  
See me handle those bones again; this day I  
Break up school: if ever you call me unthrift after  
This day, you do me wrong.  Rob. 
I should be glad to wrong you so, Uncle.  Ste. 
And what says your father yet, coz?  Rob. 
I'll tell you that in your ear.  Enter Mistress Foster, Widow and Clown. M. Fost. 
Nay, I pray you friend bear me company a little  
This way, for into this dicing house I saw my good  
Son in law enter, and 'tis odds but he meets his  
Uncle here.  Wid. 
You cannot tire me gossip in your company, 'tis the best  
Affliction I have to see you impatient.  M. Fost. 
ay, ay, you may make mirth of my sorrow.  Clow. 
We have hunted well, mistress; do you not see  
The hare's in sight?  M. Fost. 
Did not I tell you so; ay, ay, there's good counsel  
Between you, the tone would go afoot to hell,  
The other the horse-way.  Rob. 
Mother, I am sorry you have trod this path.  M. Fost. 
Mother? hang thee wretch, I bore thee not, but  
Many afflictions I have borne for thee; wert thou  
Mine own, I'd see thee stretched a handful, and  
Put thee a Coffin into the Cart, ere thou shouldst vex  
Me thus.  Rob. 
Were I your own, you could not use me worse than you do.  M. Fost. 
I'll make thy father turn thee out for ever, or else  
I'll make him wish him in his grave; You'll witness  
With me Gossip where I have found him.  Clow. 
Nay, I'll be sworn upon a book of calico for that.  Rob. 
It shall not need, I'll not deny that I was with my Uncle.  M. Fost. 
And that shall disinherit thee, if thy father  
Be an honest man; thou hadst been better to have  
been borne a viper, and eat thy way through thy  
Mother's womb into the world, than to tempt my  
Displeasure.  Ste. 
Thou liest Xanthippe; it had been better thou hadst  
been pressed to death under two Irish Rugs, than to  
Ride honest Socrates thy husband thus, and abuse his  
Honest child.  M. Fost. 
Out Raggamuffin, dost thou talk? I shall see thee  
In Ludgate again shortly.  Ste. 
Thou liest again, 't'will'twill be at More-gate, Beldame, where I shall see thee in the Ditch dancing in a Cucking-stool.  M. Fost. 
I'll see thee hanged first.  Ste. 
Thou liest again.  Clo. 
Nay Sir, you do wrong to give a woman so many lies,  
She had rather have had twice so many standings, than  
One lie.  M. Fost. 
I'll lie with him I'll warrant him.  Ste. 
You'll be a whore then.  Clo. 
Little less I promise you, if you lie with him.  Ste. 
If you complain upon mine honest coz,  
And that his father be offended with him,  
The next time I meet thee, though it be i'th' street,  
The dance i'the dirt upon thy velvet Cap;  
Nay worse, Plestaine thy Ruff; nay worse than that,  
I'll do thus:  Holds a wisp. M. Fost. 
O my heart Gossip, do you see this? Was ever  
Woman thus abused?  Wid. 
methinks 'tis good sport i'faith.  M. Fost. 
ay, I am well recompensed to complain to you,  
Had you such a kindred.  Wid. 
I would rejoice in't Gossip.  M. Fost. 
Do so; choose here then; Oh my heart! But I'll do  
Your errand; Oh that my Nails were not pared! But I'll do  
Your errand; Will you go Gossip?  Wid. 
No I'll stay awhile and tell 'em out with patience.  M. Fost. 
I cannot hold a joint still; Dost wisp me, thou  
tatterdemalion; I'll do your errands, if I have a  
Husband; Oh that I could spit Wild fire!  
My heart, Oh my heart! If it does not go pantle,  
Pantle, pantle in my belly, I am no honest woman:  
But I'll do your errands.  Exit Mistress Foster. Rob. 
Kind Gentlewoman, you have some patience.  Wid. 
I have too much Sir.  Rob. 
You may do a good office, and make yourself a Peaceful moderator betwixt me and my angry  
Father, whom his wife hath moved to spleen Against me.  Wid. 
Sir, I do not disallow the kindness your  
Consanguinity renders, I would not teach  
You otherwise; I'd speak with your Uncle, Sir,  
If you'll give me leave.  Clo. 
You may talk with me Sir, in the mean time.  Exit. Robin and Clown Ste. 
With me would you talk, Gentlewoman?  Wid. 
Yes Sir, with you; you are a brave Unthrift.  Ste. 
Not very brave neither; yet I make a shift  Wid. 
When you have a clean shirt.  Ste. 
I'll be no Pupil to a woman; leave your discipline.  Wid. 
Nay, pray you hear me Sir, I cannot chide.  
I'll but give you good counsel; 'tis not a good  
Course that you run.  Ste. 
Yet I must run toth' end of it.  Wid. 
I would teach you a better, if you'd stay where you are.  Ste. 
I would stay where I am, if I had any money.  Wid. 
In the dicing house?  Ste. 
I think so too, I have played at Passage all  
This while, now I'd go to Hazard.  Wid. 
Dost thou want Money? Thou art worthy to be tattered  
Hast thou no wit now thy Money's gone?  Ste. 
'Tis all the portion I have;  
I have nothing to maintain me but my wit;  
My Money is too little I'm sure.  Wid. 
I cannot believe thy wit's more than thy Money,  
A fellow so well limbed, so able to do good service,  
And want.  Ste. 
Why Mistress, my shoulders were not made for a Frock  
And a Basket, nor a Coal-sack neither, no nor  
My hands to turn a trencher at a table's side.  Wid. 
I like that resolution well; but how comes it  
Then, that thy wit leaves thy body unfurnished?  
Thou art very poor?  Ste. 
The fortune of the Dice you see.  Wid. 
They are the only wizards, I confess,  
The only fortune-tellers; but he that goes to  
Seek his fortune from them, must never hope  
To have a good destiny allotted him: yet it is  
Not the course that I dislike in thee, but that  
Thou canst not supply that course, and out-  
Cross them that cross thee; Were I as thou art  Ste. 
You'd be as beggarly as I am.  Wid. 
I'll be hanged first.  Ste. 
Nay, you must be well hanged ere you can be as I am.  Wid. 
So Sir, I conceit you; were I as well hanged then  
As you could imagine, I would tell some rich widow  
Such a tale in her ear.  Ste. 
Ha? Some rich widow? By this penniless pocket,  
I think 'twere not the worst way.  Wid. 
I'd be ashamed to take such a fruitless oath:  
I say, seek me out some rich widow; promise  
Her fair; she's apt to believe a young man;  
Marry her, and let her estate fly; no matter,  
'Tis charity; Twenty to one some rich Miser raked  
it together; this is none of Hercules' labours.  Ste. 
Ha? let me recount these articles: Seek her out;  
Promise her fair; Marry her; Let her estate fly:  
But where should I find her?  Wid. 
The easiest of all: Why man, they are more common  
Than Tavern Bushes; two Fairs might be  
Furnished every week in London with 'em, though no  
Foreigners came in, if the Charter were granted once:  
Nay, 'tis thought, if the Horse-market be removed, that  
Smithfield shall be so employed, and then I'll  
Warrant you 'twill be as well furnished with widows as  
'twas with Sows, Cows, and old trotting jades before.  Ste. 
'Sfoot, if it were, I would be a Chapman; I'd see for  
My pleasure, and buy for my love, for money I have none.  Wid. 
Thou shalt not stay the Market; if thou'lt be ruled,  
I'll find thee out a widow, and help in some of  
The rest too; if thou'lt but promise me the last, but  
To let her estate fly: for she's one I love not, and  
I'd be glad to see that revenge on her.  Ste. 
Spend her estate, were't five Aldermen's; I'll put you  
In security for that, 'sfoot all my neighbours shall be bound  
For me, nay, my kind Sister in law shall pass her word  
For that.  Wid. 
Only this I'll enjoin you, to be matrimonially honest  
To her for your own health's sake: all other injuries  
Shall be blessings to her.  Ste. 
I'll bless her then; I ever drunk so much,  
That I was never great feeder; give me drink,  
And my pleasure, and a little flesh serves my turn.  Wid. 
I'll show thee the party; What sayest thou to myself?  Ste. 
yourself, Gentlewoman, I would it were no worse;  
I have heard you reputed a rich widow.  Wid. 
I have a lease of thousands at least, Sir.  Ste. 
I'll let out your leases for you, if you'll allow me  
The power I'll warrant you.  Wid. 
That's my hope Sir; but you must be honest withal.  Ste. 
I'll be honest with some; if I can he honest with all,  
I will too.  Wid. 
Give me thy hand; go home with me, I'll give  
The better clothes; and as I like thee then, we'll  
Go further, we may chance make a blind  
Bargain of it.  Ste. 
I can make no blind bargain, unless I be  
In your bed, Widow.  Wid. 
No, I bar that Sir, let's begin honestly, howe'er  
we end; marry for the waste of my estate  
Spare it not; do thy worst.  Ste. 
I'll do bad enough, fear it not.  Wid. 
Come, will you walk, Sir.  Ste. 
No Widow, I'll stand to no hazard of blind  
Bargains; either promise me marriage, and give  
Me earnest in a handfast, or I'll not budge  
A foot.  Wid. 
No Sir, are you grown so stout already?  Ste. 
I'll grow stouter when I am married.  Wid. 
I hope thou'lt vex me.  Ste. 
I'll give you cause I'll warrant you.  Wid. 
I shall rail, and curse thee I hope; yet I'd  
Not have thee give over neither; for I would  
Be vexed; Here's my hand, I am thine, thou art mine,  
I'll have thee withal faults.  Ste. 
You shall have one with some, and you have me,  Enter Robin and Clown. Wid. 
Here's witness, come hither Sir.  
cousin, I must call you shortly; and you  
sirrah, be witness to this match; here's Man and Wife.  Rob. 
I joy at mine Uncle's happiness, Widow.  Clo. 
I do forbid the Banes: Alas poor shagrag,  
My Mistress does but gull him; you may  
Imagine it to be Twelve-day at night, and the  
Bean found in the corner of your Cake, but  
'tis not worth a fetch I'll assure you.  Wid. 
You'll let me dispose of myself, I hope.  Clo. 
You love to be merry Mistress; Come, come,  
Give him four Farthings, and let him go.  
He'll pray for his good Dame, and be drunk;  
Why, if your blood does itch that way, we'll  
Stand together; how think you? I think here  
is the sweeter bit, you see this Nap, and you  
See this Louse, you may crack o' your choice,  
If you choose here.  Wid. 
You have put me to my choice then; see, here I choose?  
This is my Husband: Thus I begin the Contract.  Kiss Ste. 
'Tis sealed, I am thine; now coz fear no black  
Storms; if thy father thunder, come to me for shelter.  Wid. 
His word is now a deed, Sir.  Rob. 
I thank you both. Uncle, what my joy conceives,  
I cannot utter yet.  Clo. 
I will make black Monday of this: e'er I suffer  
This disgrace, the kennel shall run with blood and rags,  Rob. 
Sir, I am your apposite.  Clo. 
I have nothing to say to you, Sir; I aim at your Uncle  Rob. 
He has no weapon.  Clo. 
That's all one, I'll take him as I find him:  Wid. 
I have taken him so before you, Sir; Will you be quiet.  Ste. 
Thou shalt take me so too Hodge, for I'll be thy fellow,  
Though thy Mistress's Husband. Give me thy hand.  Clo. 
I'll make you seek your fingers among the Dogs,  Exeunt 
If you come to me; my Fellow? You lousy  
Companion; I scorn thee. 'Sfoot, is't come to this?  
Have I stood all this while to my Mistress, an honest,  
Handsome, plain-dealing, serving-Creature; and she to  
Marry a Worson Tittere Tu tatter with never a good rag  
About him? Stand thou to me, and be my friend; and since  
My Mistress has forsaken me:  Enter Robin. Rob. 
How now? what's the matter?  Clo. 
'Twas well you came in good time.  Rob. 
Why man?  Clo. 
I was going the wrong way.  Rob. 
But tell me one thing, I apprehend not; Why didst  
Lay thy Cap upon the sword's point?  Clo. 
Dost not thou know the reason of that? why, 'twas  
To save my belly: dost thou think I am so mad to  
Cast myself away for e'er a woman of'em all,  
I'll see 'em hanged first.  Rob. 
Come Roger, will you go?  Clo. 
Well, since there is no remedy, Oh tears be you my friend!  Rob. 
Nay, prithee Roger do not cry.  Clo. 
I cannot choose; nay I will steep  
Mine eyes in crying tears, and crying weep.  Exeunt.  

Actus Tertius.  Enter Alderman Bruine, Sir Godfry Speedwell, Innocent Lambskin, and Mistress jane. Bruine. 
GEntlemen, y'are welcome; that once well pronounced  
Has a thousand Echoes; Let it suffice, I have spoke  
It to the full: here's your affairs, here's your merchandise,  
This is your prize, if you can mix your names and gentle  
Bloods with the poor Daughter of a Citizen.  
I make the passage free, to greet and court,  
Traffic the mart of love, clap hands and strike  
The bargain through, (she pleased) and I shall like.  God. Sp. 
'Tis good ware believe me, Sir, I know that by mine  
Own experience; for I have handled the like  
Many times in my first wife's days, ay, by Knighthood,  
Sometimes before I was married too; therefore I  
Know't by mine own experience.  Lamb. 
Well Sir, I know by observation, as much as you do  
By experience; for I have known many Gentlemen  
Have taken up such ware as this is, but it has lain  
On their hands as long as they lived; this I  
Have seen by observation.  jane. 
I am like to have a couple of fair Chapmen:  
If they were at my own dispose, I would  
Willingly rifle them both at twelve pence a share; they  
Would be good food for a new plantation; the  
Tone might mend his experience; and the other his  
Observation very much.  Speed. 
Sir, let me advise you: I see you want experience,  
Meddle no further in this case, 't'will'twill be the  
More credit for your observation; for I find by my  
Experience, you are but shallow.  Lamb. 
But shallow Sir? Your experience is a little wide;  
You shall find I willbe as deep in this case as  
yourself; my observation has been, where your  
Experience must wait at door; yet I will  
Give you the fore Horse place, and I willbe in the  
Fills, because you are the elder Tree, and I the  
Young Plant; put on your experience, and I will  
Observe.  Speed. 
Sweet Virgin, to be prolix and tedious, fits no  
Experience; short words and large deeds are  
Best pleasing to women.  jane. 
So, Sir.  Speed. 
My name is Speedwell, by my father's Copy.  jane. 
Then you never served for't it seems.  Speed. 
Yes, sweet Feminine, I have served for it too:  
For I have found my nativity suited to my name,  
As my name is Speedwell, so have I sped  
Well in divers actions.  jane. 
It must needs be a fair and comely suit then.  Lamb. 
You observe very well, sweet Virgin; for his  
Nativity is his Doublet, which is the upper part  
Of his suit; and his name is in's breeches, for  
That part which is his name, he defiles many times.  Speed. 
Your observation is corrupt, Sir; Let me show mine  
Own Tale; I say, sweet Beauty, my name is  
Speedewell, my Godfather by his bounty being an  
Old Soldier, and having served in the wars as far as  
Bulloyne, therefore called my name Godfrey; a  
Title of large renown; my wealth and wit has  
Added to those, the paraphrase of Knighthood;  
So that my name in the full longitude is called  
Sir Godfrey Speedwell, a name of good experience.  Ian. 
If every quality you have be as large in relation as  
Your name Sir, I should imagine the best of them, rather  
Than hear them reported.  Speed. 
You say well, sweet Modesty, a good imagination is good,  
And shows your good experience.  Lamb. 
Nay, if names can do any good, I beseech you observe  
Mine; My name is Lambskin, a thing both hot and harmless.  jane. 
On Sir, I would not interrupt you, because you Should be brief.  Lamb. 
My Godfather seeing in my face some notes of disposition,  
In my Cradle did give me the title of Innocent, which I  
Have practised all my life time; and since my father's  
Decease, my wealth has purchased me in the vanguard  
Of my name, the paraphrase of gentility; So that  
I am called Master Innocent Lambskin.  jane. 
In good time; and what Trade was your father, Sir?  Lamb. 
My father was of an Occupation before he was a  
Tradesman; for, as I have observed in my fathers  
And mother's report, they set up together in  
Their youth; my father was a Starch-maker, and my  
Mother a Laundress; so being partners, they did  
Occupy long together before they were married;  
Then was I borne.  jane. 
What, before your father was married?  Lamb. 
Truly a little after, I was the first fruits, as they say;  
Then did my father change his Copy, and set up  
A Brewhouse.  jane. 
I then came your wealth in, Sir.  Lamb. 
Your observation's good; I have carried the Tallies  
At my girdle seven years together with much  
Delight and observation; for I did ever love to  
Deal honestly in the Nick.  jane. 
A very innocent resolution.  Speed. 
Your experience may see his course education; but to  
The purpose, sweet Female; I do love that  
Face of yours.  jane. 
Sir, if you love nothing but my face, I cannot sell it  
From the rest.  Lamb. 
You may see his slender observation; sweet Virgin,  
I do love your lower parts better than your face.  Speed. 
Sir you do interrupt, and thwart my love.  Lamb. 
I Sir, I am your Rival; and I will thwart your love.  
For your love licks at the face, and my love  
Shall be arsy-varsy to yours.  jane. 
I would desire no better wooing of so bad suitors.  Speed. 
Mistake me not kind Heart.  Lamb. 
He calls you Tooth drawer by way of experience.  Speed. 
In loving your face, I love all the rest of your body  
As you shall find by experience.  jane. 
Well Sir, you love me then?  Speed. 
Let your experience make a trial.  jane. 
No Sir, I'll believe you rather, and I thank you for't.  Lamb. 
I love you too, fair Maid, double and treble,  
If it please you.  jane. 
I thank you too Sir; I am so much beholding  
To you both; I am afraid I shall never requite it.  Speed. 
Requite one, sweet Chastity, and let it be  
Sir Godfrey, with the correspondency of your  
Love to him; I will maintain you like a Lady,  
And it is brave, as I know by experience.  Lamb. 
I will maintain you like a Gentlewoman: And  
That may be better maintenance than a lady's,  
As I have found by observation.  Speed. 
How dare you maintain that, Sir?  Lamb. 
I dare maintain it with my purse, Sir.  Speed. 
I dare cross it with my sword Sir.  Lamb. 
If you dare cross my purse with your sword Sir,  
I'll lay an action of suspicion of felony to you;  
That's flat, Sir.  jane. 
Nay, pray you Gentlemen do not quarrel,  
Till you know for what.  Bru. 
Oh, no quarrelling, I beseech you Gentlemen!  
The reputation of my house is soiled, if any  
uncivil noise arise in't.  Lamb. 
Let him but shake his blade at me, and I'll  
Throw down my purse, and cry a rape; I  
Scorn to kill him, but I'll hang his knighthood,  
I warrant him, if he offer assault and battery on  
My purse.  Bru. 
Nay, good Sir, put up your sword.  Speed. 
You have confined him prisoner forever,  
I hope your experience sees he's a harmless thing.  Enter George the Factor. Geo. 
Sir, here's young Master Foster requests  
To speak with you.  Bru. 
Does he? Prithee request him. Gentlemen,  
Please you taste the sweetness of my Garden  
A while, and let my daughter bear you company.  Speed. 
Where she is leader, there will be followers.  jane. 
You send me to the Galleys, Sir; pray you redeem  
Me as soon as you can; these are pretty  
Things for mirth, but not for serious uses.  Bru. 
Prithee be merry with them then a while,  
If but for courtesy; thou hast wit enough;  
But take heed they quarrel not.  jane. 
Nay I dare take in hand to part ''em without  
Any danger; but I beseech you let me not  
Be too long a prisoner. Will you walk Gentlemen.  Lamb. 
If it please you to place one of us for your conduct,  
Otherwise this old Coxcomb and I shall quarrel.  jane. 
Sir Godfrey, you are the eldest; pray lead the way.  Speed. 
With all my heart, sweet Virgin; Ah, ha; this place  
Promises well in the eyes of experience; Master  
Innocent, come you behind.  Lamb. 
Right Sir; but I put the Gentlewoman before, and that  
Is the thing I desire  
And there your experience halts a little.  Speed. 
When I look back, Sir, I see your nose behind.  Lamb. 
Then when I look back, your nose stands here.  Speed. 
Sweet Lady, follow experience.  Lamb. 
And let observation follow you.  Exeunt. Bru. 
So, now request you Master Foster in, George; but hark;  
Does that news hold his own still, that our ships  
Are so near return, as laden on the Downs  
With such a wealthy fraughtage.  Geo. 
Yes Sir, and the next Tide purpose to put into the River:  
Master Foster, your partner, hath now received more  
Such intelligence, with most of the particulars  
Of your merchandise, your venture is returned  
With treble blessing.  Bru. 
Let him be ever blessed that sent. George now call  
In the young man; and hark ye, George, from him  
Run to my Partner, and request him to me, this  
News I'm sure makes him a joyful Merchant;  
For my own part, I'll not forget my vow,  Ex. Geo. 
This free addition heaven hath lent my state,  
As freely back to heaven I'll dedicate.  Enter Robert Foster. 
I marry Sir, would this were a third Suitor  
To my daughter jane, I should better  
Like him than all that's come yet. Now master Foster,  
Are your father and yourself yet reconciled?  Rob. 
Sir, 'twas my business in your courteous tongue  
To put the arbitration, I have again  
(Discovered by my mother) relieved my poor Uncle,  
Whose anger now so great is multiplied,  
I dare not venture in the eye of either,  
Till your persuasions with fair excuse  
Have made my satisfaction.  Bru. 
Mother a pearl, Sir, 'tis a shrewd task;  
Yet I'll do my best; your father hath so good news,  
That I hope't will be a fair motive to't;  
But women's tongues are dangerous stumbling blocks  Enter George. 
To lie in the way of peace. Now George.  Geo. 
Master Foster's coming, Sir.  Rob. 
I beseech you Sir, let not me see him, till you  
Have conferred with him.  Bru. 
Well, well, e'er your return to Master Foster, call my  
Daughter forth of the garden.  Ex. George. 
And how does your Uncle, Master Foster?  Rob. 
Sir, so well,  
Same that shortly will o'erspread the city of his good fortunes.  Bru. 
Why I commend thee still,  
He wants no good from thee, no not in report:  
'Tis well done Sir, and you show duty in't.  Enter jane. 
Now daughter, Where are your lusty Suitors?  jane. 
I was glad of my release, Sir: Suitors call you'm,  
I'd keep dish water continually boiling, but I'd  
seethe such Suitors; I have had much ado to  
keep ''em from bloodshed; I have seen for all  
The world, a couple of cowardly Curs quarrel  
In that fashion, as t'one turns his head, the  
Other snaps behind; and as he turns, his  
Mouth recoils again: but I thank my pains  
For't, I have leagued with'em for a week without  
Any farther intercourse.  Bru. 
Well daughter, well; say a third trouble come;  
Say in the person of young Master Foster here  
Came a third Suitor: how then?  jane. 
Three's the woman's total Arithmetic in  
Deed, I would learn to number no farther,  
If there was a good account made of that.  Rob. 
I can instruct you so far, sweet Beauty.  jane. 
Take heed, Sir; I have had ill handsel today;  
Perhaps 'tis not the fortunate season, you were  
Best adjourn your journey to some happier time.  Rob. 
There shall no Augurism fright my plain  
Dealing: Sweet, I fear no hours.  jane. 
You'll not betray me with love-powder  Rob. 
Nor with Gunpowder neither i'faith; yet I'll  
Make you yield if I can.  Bru. 
Go, get you together; your father will be coming;  
Leave me with your suit to him, ply this yourself;  
And jane, use him kindly, he shall be his  
Father's heir I can tell you.  jane. 
Never the more for that, Father; If I use him  
Kindly, it shallbe for something I like in him.  
Self, and not for any good he borrows of his father,  
But come Sir, will you walk into the Garden; for  
That's the field I have best fortune to overcome  
My Suitors in.  Rob. 
I fear not that fate neither, but if I walk  
Into your Garden, I shall be tasting your sweets.  jane. 
Taste sweetly and welcome Sir; for there grows  
Honesty, I can tell you.  Rob. 
I shall be plucking at your honesty.  jane. 
By my honesty but you shall not Sir: I'll hold  
You a hand full of Pennyroyal of that i'faith,  
If you touch my honesty there, I'll make you eat  
sorrel to your supper, though I eat Sullenwood myself:  
No Sir, gather first Time and Sage, and such wholesome  
Herbs; and Honesty and Hearts-ease will ripen  
The whilst.  Rob. 
You have fair Roses, have you not?  jane. 
Yes Sir, Roses; but no Gillyflowers.  Ex. Ambo. Enter Master Foster and his Wife. Bru. 
Go, go, and rest on Venus' Violets; show her  
A dozen of bachelor's Button Boy; Here comes  
His father. Now my kind Partner, have we  
Good news?  O. Fost. 
Sir, in a word, take it; Your full lading and venture  
Is returned at sixty fold increase.  Br. 
Heaven take the glory; A wondrous blessing;  
Oh keep us strong against these flowing Tides!  
Man is too weak to bound himself below,  
When such high waves do mount him.  O. Fost. 
O Sir, care and ambition seldom meet,  
Let us be thrifty; Titles will faster come,  
Than we shall wish to have them.  Bru. 
Faith I desire none.  O. Fost. 
Why Sir, if so you please, I'll ease your cares;  
Shall I like a full adventurer now bid you  
A certain ready sum for your half traffic.  Bru. 
ay, and I'd make you gainer by it too;  
For then would I lay by my trouble, and begin  
A work which I have promised unto heaven,  
A house, a Domus Dei shall be raised,  
Which shall to Doomsday be established for succour to  
The poor; for in all Ages there must be such.  O. Fost. 
Shall I bid your venture at a venture.  Bru. 
Pray you do Sir.  O. Fost. 
Twenty thousand pounds.  Bru. 
Nay, than you underrate your own value much;  
Will you make it thirty?  O. Fost. 
Shall I meet you half way?  Bru. 
I meet you there Sir; for five and twenty thousand Pounds the full ventures yours.  O. Fost. 
If you like my payment, 'tis the one half in ready Cash, the other sealed for six Months.  Bru. 
'Tis Merchant like and fair; George, you  
Observe this? Let the contents be drawn.  Geo. 
They shall Sir.  O. Fost. 
Your hazard is now all past, Sir.  Bru. 
I rejoice at it, Sir, and shall not grudge your gains,  
Though multiplied to thousands.  O. Fost. 
Believe me Sir, I account myself a large Gainer by you.  Bru. 
Much good may it be to you, Sir; but one  
Thing at this advantage of my love to you  
Let me entreat.  O. Fost. 
What is it, Sir?  Bru. 
Faith my old suit, to reconcile those breaches  
Twist your kind son and you; Let not the love  
He shows unto his Uncle, be any more a bar  
To sunder your blessings and his duty.  O. Fost. 
I would you had enjoined me some great labour  
Far your own love's sake, but to that my  
View stands fixed against; I'm deaf,  
Obdurat to either of them.  M Fost. 
Nay, Sir, if you knew all, you would not waste your  
Words in so vain expense: since his last  
Reformation, he has flown out again,  
And in my sight relieved his Uncle in the  
Dicing house; for which, either he shallbe no  
Father to him, or no husband to me.  Br. 
Well Sir, go call my Daughter forth of the  
Garden, and bid her bring her Friend along  
With her, troth Sir, I must not leave you thus;  
I must needs make him your son again.  O. Fost. 
Sir, I have no such thing a kin to me.  Enter Robin and jane. Bru. 
Look you Sir, know you this duty?  O. Fost. 
Not I Sir: he's a stranger to me: Save your  
Knee, I have no blessing for you.  M. Fost. 
Go, go to your Uncle Sir; you know where to  
Find him, he's at his old haunt, he wants  
More money by this time; but I think the  
Conduit pipe is stopped from whence it ran.  O. Fost. 
Did he not say, he'd beg for you, you'd best  
Make use of's bounty.  Bru. 
Nay, good Sir.  O. Fost. 
Sir, if your daughter cast any eye of favour upon  
This Unthrift restraint, he's a beggar: Mistress  
jane, take heed what you do.  M. Fost. 
ay, ay, be wise Mistress jane; do not you trust  
To spleen and time worn to pity, you'll  
Not find it so; therefore good Gentlewoman  
Take heed.  Bru. 
Nay then you are too impenetrable.  O. Fost. 
Sir, your money shall be ready, and your bills;  
Other business I have none: For thee,  
Beg, hang, die like a slave;  
Such blessings ever thou from me shalt have.  Ex. Foster and his wife. Br. 
Well Sir, I'll follow you; and Sir, be comforted,  
I will not leave till I find some remorse;  
Mean time let not want trouble you;  
You shall not know it.  Rob. 
Sir, 'tis not want I fear, but want of blessing  
My knee was bent for; for mine Uncle's state,  
Which now I dare say outweighs my father's far,  
Confirms my hopes as rich, as with my fathers,  
His love excepted only.  Bru. 
Thy Uncle's state, how for heaven's love.  Rob. 
By his late marriage to the wealthiest widow  
That London had, who has not only made him  
Lord of herself, but of her whole estate.  Bru. 
Mother-a-pearl, I rejoice in't: this news  
Is yet but young?  Rob. 
Fame will soon speak it loud, Sir  Bru. 
This may help happily to make all peace;  
But how have you parleyed with my daughter, Sir.  jane. 
Very well Father: We spoke something, but did  
Nothing at all; I requested him to pull me  
A Catherine Pear, and had not I looked to him  
He would have mistaken and given me a poppering;  
And to requite his kindness, I plucked him a Rose,  
And he had almost pricked my finger for my pains.  Bru. 
Well said Wag, are there sparks kindled, quench  
'em not for me, 'tis not a father's roughness,  
Nor doubtful hazard of an Uncle's kindness  
Can me deter; I must to your father.  
Where (as a chief affair) I'll once more move,  
And if I can return him back to love.  Exeunt. Enter Doctor and Stephens Wife. Wife. 
Sir, you see I have made a speedy choice,  
And as swift a marriage; be it as it will,  
I like the man, if his qualities afflict me,  
I shall be happy in't.  Doct. 
I must not distaste, what I have helped to make;  
'Tis I that joined you.  Wife. 
A good bargain, I hope.  Enter Roger. 
Roger, Where's your Master?  Clo. 
The Good man of the house is within forsooth.  Wife. 
Not your Master, Sir.  Clo. 
'Tis hard of digestion: Yes, my Master is within;  
He masters you therefore I must be  
Content: You have longed for Crosses a good  
While, and now you are like to be  
Farther off them than e'er you were; For  
I'm afraid, your good husband will leave  
You ne'er a cross i'th' house to bless you with.  Wife. 
Well Sir, I shall be blessed in't: But where is he?  Clo. 
Where he has mistaken the place a little,  
Being his wedding-day; he is in nomine,  
When he should be in re.  Wife. 
And where's that?  Clo. 
In your Countinghouse; If he were a kind  
Husband, he would have been in another  
Countinghouse by this time: he's tumbling  
Over all his money bags yonder; you shall  
Hear of him in the bowling Alley again.  Wife. 
Why Sir, all is his, and at his  
Dispose; who shall dare to thwart him?  Enter Stephen with bills and bonds. Clo. 
Look where he comes.  Wife. 
How now, Sweetheart? what hast thou there?  Ste. 
I find much debts belonging to you, Sweet;  
And my care must be now to fetch them in;  Wife. 
Ha, ha; prithee do not mistake thyself,  
Nor my true purpose; I did not wed to thrall,  
Or bind thy large expense, but rather to add  
A plenty to that liberty; I thought by this,  
Thou wouldst have stuffed thy pockets full of Gold,  
And thrown it at a hazard; made Ducks and Drakes,  
And baited fishes with thy silver flies;  
Lost, and fetched more: why this had been my joy;  
Perhaps at length thou wouldst have wasted  
My store; why, this had been a blessing too  
Good for me.  Ste. 
Content thee, Sweet, those days are gone,  
ay, even from my memory;  
I have forgot that e'er I had such follies,  
And I'll not call 'em back: my ears are bent  
To keep your state, and give you all content.  
Roger, go, call your fellow-servants up to me,  
And to my Chamber bring all books of debt;  
I will o'erlook, and cast up all accounts,  
That I may know the weight of all my cares,  
And once a year give up my stewardship.  Clo. 
Now you may see what hasty matching is;  
You had thought to have been vexed, and now  
You cannot: You have married a husband,  
That, Sir reverence of the title, now being my Master in law,  
I do think he'll prove the miserablest, covetous  
Rascal, that ever beat beggar from his gate. But  
'Tis no matter; time was when you were fairly  
Offered, if you would have took it; you might have had  
Other matches i'faith, if it had pleased you; and those  
That would have crossed you; I would have sold away  
All that ever you had had; have kept two or three  
Whores at livery under your nose; have turned you out  
In your smock, and have used you like a woman; where  
As now, if you'd hang yourself, you can have none of  
These blessings: but 'tis well enough, now you must  
Take what follows.  Wife. 
I'm new to seek for crosses, the hopes I meant  
Turn to despair, and smoother in content.  Enter Robert. Ste. 
O Nephew are you come: The welcom'st wish  
That my heart has; This is my kinsman, Sweet.  Wife. 
Let him be largely texted in your love,  
That all the City may read it fairly;  
You cannot remember me, and him forget.  
We were alike to you in poverty.  Ste. 
I should have begged that bounty of your love,  
Though you had scanted me to have given't him;  
For we are one, I an Uncle Nephew,  
He an Nephew Uncle. But my Sweet self,  
My slow request you have anticipated  
With proffered kindness; and I thank you for it.  
But how, kind cousin, does your father use you?  
Is your name found again within his books?  
Can he read son there?  Rob. 
'Tis now blotted quite: for by the violent instigation  
Of my cruel Stepmother, his Vows and Oaths  
Are stamped against me, ne'er to acknowledge me,  
ne'er to call, or bless me as a child;  
But in his brow, his bounty, and behaviour  
I read it almost plainly.  Ste. 
cousin, grieve not at it; that father lost at home,  
You shall find here; and with the loss of his inheritance,  
You meet another amply proffered you;  
Be my adopted son, no more my kinsman;  
So that this borrowed bounty do not stray  
From your consent.  Wife. 
Call it not borrowed, Sir, 'tis all your own;  
Here 'fore this reverent man I make it known,  
Thou art our child as free by adoption,  
As derived from us by conception, birth, and  
Propinquity; Inheritor to our full substance.  Rob. 
You were borne to bless us both,  
My knee shall practise a son's duty  
Even beneath sons, giving you all  
The comely dues of parents: yet not  
Forgetting my duty to my father;  
where'er I meet him, he shall have my knee,  
Although his blessing ne'er return to me.  Ste. 
Come then my dearest son, I'll now give thee  
A taste of my love to thee; be thou my deputy,  
The Factor and disposer of my business;  
Keep my accounts, and order my affairs;  
They must be all your own; for you, dear Sweet,  
Be merry, take your pleasure, at home, abroad;  
Visit your neighbours; aught that may seem good  
To your own will, down to the Country ride;  
For cares and troubles lay them all aside,  
And I will take them up, it's fit that weight  
Should now lie all on me: take thou the height  
Of quiet and content, let nothing grieve thee;  
I brought thee nothing else, and that I'll give thee.  Ex. Stephen and Robin. Wife. 
Will the Tide never turn? Was ever woman  
Thus burdened with unhappy happiness?  
Did I from Riot take him, to waste my goods,  
And he strives to augment it? I did mistake him.  Doct. 
Spoil not a good Text with a false Comment;  
All these are blessings, and from heaven sent;  
It is your husband's good, he's now transformed  
To a better shade, the prodigal's returned.  
Come, come, know joy, make not abundance scant;  
You 'plain of that which thousand women want.  Exeunt. Enter Alderman Bruine, Master Foster and Factors bearing our bags. Bru. 
So, so, haste home good Lads, and return for the rest.  
Would they were covered, George, 'tis too Public  
Blazon of my estate; but 'tis no matter now;  
I'll bring it abroad again ere it be long.  
Sir, I acknowledge receipt of my still half debt,  
Twelve thousand five hundred pounds; it now remains  
You seal those writings, as assurance for the rest,  
And I am satisfied for this time.  O. Fost. 
Pray stay Sir, I have bethought me, let me once  
Throw Dice at all, and either be a complete  
Merchant, or wrack my estate for ever:  
Hear me Sir, I have of wares that are now vendible,  
So much as will defray your utmost penny;  
Will you accept of them, and save this charge  
Of wax and parchment.  Bru. 
Be they vendible Sir? I am your Chapman:  
What are they, Master Foster?  O. Fost. 
Broad clothes, kerseys, Cutchineale, such  
As will not stay two days upon your hands.  Bru. 
I find your purpose; you'd have your Ware.  
Houses empty for the receipt of your full fraught;  
I'll be your furtherer, make so your rates, that  
I may be no looser.  Enter George and Richard. O. Fost. 
I have no other end, Sir; let our  
Factors peruse and deal for both.  Bru. 
Mine is returned; George, here's a new business,  
You and Richard must deal for some commodities  
Betwixt us, if you find 'em even gain or but  
Little loss, take carriage presently and carry 'em home.  Geo. 
I shall.  O. Fost. 
Richard, have you any further news yet from our shipping?  Ric. 
Not yet, Sir; but by account from the last, when they  
Put from Dover, this Tide should bring them into  
Saint Catherine's Pool; the wind has been friendly.  O, Fost. 
Listen their arrival, and bid the Gunner speak it  
In his loud thunder all the City over;  
Tingle the Merchants ears at the report  
Of my abundant wealth; now go with George.  Rich. 
I shall do both, Sir.  Exeunt Factors. O. Fost. 
I must plainly now confess, Master Alderman, I shall gain much by you. The half of your Ship defrays my full cost.  Bru. 
Beshrew me if I grudge it, being myself a Sufficient gainer by my venture, Sir.  Enter Mistress Foster. M. Fost. 
Still flows the Tide of my unhappiness,  
The stars shoot mischief, and every hour  
Is critical to me.  O. Fost. 
How now woman? wracked in the heaven of felicity?  
What ail'st thou?  M. Fost. 
I think the devil's mine enemy  O. Fost. 
I hope so too; his hate is better than his friendship.  M. Fost. 
Your brother, your good brother, Sir.  O. Fost. 
What of him? he's in Ludgate again.  M. Fost. 
No, he's in Highgate; he struts it bravely,  
An Alderman's pace at least.  O, Fost. 
Why, these are Oracles, doubtful Enigma's!  M. Fost. 
Why, I'm sure you have heard the news;  
he's married forsooth.  O. Fost. 
How, married? no woman of repute would choose So slightly.  M. Fost. 
A woman, in whose breast, I had thought had lived  
The very quintessence of discretion; and who is't,  
Think you? nay you cannot guess, though I should give  
You a day to riddle it; 'tis my Gossip, Man, the rich  
Widow of Cornhill.  O. Fost. 
Fie, fie, 'tis fabulous.  M. Fost. 
Are you my husband? then is she his wife;  
How will this upstart beggar shoulder up,  
And take the wall of you? his new found pride  
Will know no eldership.  O. Fost. 
But wife, my wealth will five times double his, ere  
This Tide ebb again; I wonder I hear not the  
Brazen Cannon proclaim the Arrival of my  
Infinite substance.  M. Fost. 
But beggars will be proud of little, and shoulder at the best.  O. Fost. 
Let him first pay his old score, and then reckon;  
But that she:—  M. Fost. 
ay, that's it mads me too.  
Would any woman, less to spite herself,  
So much profane the sacred name of wedlock:  
A Dove to couple with a Stork, or a Lamb a Viper?  O. Fost. 
Content thee; Forgive her; she'll do so no more;  
She was a rich widow, a wife he'll make her poor.  Bru. 
So Sir, you have closed it well; if so ill it prove,  
Leave it to proof, and wish not misery  Enter Stephen and Robert. 
Unto your enemy look, here he comes.  O. Fost. 
You say true 'tis my enemy indeed.  Ste. 
Save you Master Alderman, I have some business with you.  Bru. 
With me, Sir, and most welcome, I rejoice to see you.  M. Fost. 
Do you observe, Sir; he will not know you now?  
jockey's a Gentleman now.  O. Fost. 
Well fare rich widows, when such beggars flourish;  
But ill shall they fare, that flourish o'er such beggars.  Ste. 
Ha, ha, ha.  M. Fost. 
He laughs at you.  O. Fost. 
No wonder, woman, he would do that in Ludgate;  
But 'twas when his kind Nephew did relieve him:  
I shall hear him cry there again shortly.  Ste. 
Oysters, new Walfleet Oysters.  O. Fost. 
The Gentleman is merry.  M. Fost. 
No, no, no; he does this to spite me; as who Should say, I had been a fishwife in my younger days.  Bru. 
Fie, fie, Gentlemen, this is not well;  
My ears are guilty to hear such discords.  
Look, Master Foster; turn your eye that way;  
There's duty unregarded, while envy struts  
In too much state: believe me, Gentlemen,  
I know not which to chide first.  O. Fost. 
What Idol kneels that heretic too.  Ste. 
Rise Boy; thou art now my son, and owest no knee  
To that unnatural; I charge you rise.  O. Fost. 
Do Sir, or turn your adoration that way;  
You were kind to him in his tattered state;  
Let him requite it now.  M. Fost. 
Do, do, we have paid for't aforehand,  Rob. 
I would I were divided in two halves, so that Might reconcile your harsh division  Ste. 
Proud Sir, this son which you have alienated  
For my love's sake, shall by my love's bounty  
Ride side by side in the best Equipage  
Your scorns dare pattern him.  O. Fost. 
ay, ay, a beggar's gallop up and down.  M. Fost. 
ay, 'tis up now, the next step down.  Ste. 
Ha, ha, I laugh at your envy Sir, my business is to you.  Bru. 
Good Sir, speak of any thing but this.  Ste. 
Sir, I am furnishing some shipping forth,  
And want some English traffic, Broad-clothes, Kerseys  
Or such like, my voyage is to the Straits:  
If you can supply me, Sir, I'll be your Chapman.  Bru. 
That I shall soon resolve you, Sir;  Enter Factors. 
Come hither George.  O. Fost. 
This is the rich Merchantman;  M. Fost. 
That's neither grave not wife;  O. Fost. 
Who will kill a man at Tyburn shortly.  M. Fost. 
By Carts that may arise; Or if the hangman die,  
He may have his office.  Bru. 
Then you have bargained, George.  Geo. 
And the Ware carried home, Sir; you must look  
To be little gainer; but lose you cannot.  Bru. 
'Tis all I desire from thence, Sir I can furnish you  
With Wares I lately from your brother bought;  
Please you go see them, for I would fain divide you,  
Since I can win no nearer friendship.  Ste. 
I'll go with you, Sir.  Exeunt Alderman, Stephen and George. O. Fost. 
Take your adoption with you, Sir.  Rob. 
I crave but your blessing with me, Sir.  O. Fost. 
'Tis my curse then; get thee out of mine eye.  
thouart a beam in't, and I'll tear it out e'er it  
Offend to look on thee.  M. Fost. 
Go, go, Sir; follow your Uncle-father,  
Help him to spend, what thrift has got together;  
'Twilbe charity in you to spend,  
Because your charity it was to lend.  Rob. 
My charity; you can a virtue name.  
And teach the use, yet never knew the same  Exit. Enter Richard. O. Fost. 
See wife, here comes Richard.  
Now listen, and hear me crowned  
The wealthiest London Merchant.  
Why dost thou look so sadly?  M. Fost. 
Why dost not speak; hast lost thy tongue?  Rich. 
I never could speak worse.  O. Fost. 
Why, thy voice is good enough.  Ric. 
But the worst accent Sir, that ever you heard,  
I speak a screech-owl's note. Oh you have made  
The most unhappiest bargain that ever Merchant did!  O. Fost. 
Ha? what can so baleful be, as thou wouldst seem  
To make by this sad prologue? I am no traitor  
To confiscate my goods: speak, whate'er it be.  Ric. 
I would you could conceit it, that I might not speak it.  O. Fost. 
Dally not with torments, sink me at once.  Ric. 
Now y'ave spoke it half; 'tis sinking I must treat of  
Your ships are all sunk.  O. Fost. 
Hah!  M. Fost. 
O thou fatal Raven; Let me pull thine eyes out for this  
Sad croak.  O. Fost. 
Hold woman; hold prithee; 'tis none of his fault.  M. Fost. 
No, no, 'tis thine, thou wretch; and therefore  
Let me turn my vengeance all on thee; thou  
Hast made hot haste to empty all my Warehouses,  
And made room for that the sea hath drunk before  
Thee.  O. Fost. 
Undone for ever! Where could this mischief fail?  
Were not my ships in their full pride at Dover;  
And what English Carybda's has the devil digged  
To swallow nearer home.  Ric. 
Even in the Mouth, and entrance of the Thames  
They were all cast away.  O. Fost. 
Dam up thy Mouth from any farther  
Mischievous relation.  Rich. 
Some men were saved, but not one pennyworth of goods.  O. Fost. 
Even now thy baleful utterance was choked,  
And now it runs too fast; thou fatal Bird no more.  M. Fost. 
May Serpents breed, and fill this fatal Stream,  
And poison her for ever.  O. Fost. 
O curse not, they come too fast!  M. Fost. 
Let me curse somewhere, Wretch, or else I'll throw  
Them all on thee; 'tis thou, ungodly Slave,  
That art the mark unto the wrath of Heaven:  
I thrived ere I knew thee.  O. Fost. 
I prithee split me too.  M. Fost. 
I would I could; I would I had never seen thee;  
For I ne'er saw hour of comfort since I knew thee.  O. Fost. 
Undone for ever, my credit I have cracked,  
To buy a Venture, which the Sea has soaked;  
What worse can woe report.  M. Fost. 
Yes worse than all,  
Thy enemies will laugh, and scorn thy fall.  O. Fost. 
Be it the worst then; that place I did assign  
My unthrifty brother, Ludgate, must now be mine.  
Break, and take Ludgate.  M. Fost. 
Take Newgate rather.  O. Fost. 
I scorned my child, now he may scorn his father.  M. Fost. 
Scorn him still.  O. Fost. 
I will; would he my wants relieve,  
I'd scorn to take what he would yield to give:  
My heart be still my friend, although no other;  
I'll scorn the help of either son, or brother,  
My portion's begging now; seldom before.  
In one sad hour, was man so rich and poor.  Exeunt.  

Actus Quartus.  Enter Mistress jane, Godfry Speedewell, and Master Lambskin. jane. 
GEntlemen, my Father's not within; please  
You to walk a turn or two in the garden,  
he'll not be long.  Lamb. 
Your father, Mistress jane, I hope you have observation in you,  
And know our humours; we come not a-wooing to your Father.  Speed. 
Experience must bear with folly; Thou art all innocent,  
And thy name is Lambskin; grave Sapience guides me,  
And I care not a pin for thy squibs, and thy Crackers,  
My old dry wood shall make a lusty bonfire, when  
Thy green Chips shall lie hissing in the Chimney-  
Corner. Remember Mistress, I can make you a Lady by  
Mine own experience.  Lamb. 
Prithee do not stand troubling the Gentlewoman  
With thy musty sentences, but let her love be laid  
Down betwixt us like a pair of Cudgels, and into  
Whose hands she thrusts the weapons first, let him  
Take up the Bucklers.  Speed. 
A match between us  jane. 
Must I be stickler then?  Lamb. 
We are both to run at the Ring of your setting  
Up, and you must tell us who deserves most favour.  jane. 
But will you stand both at my disposing?  Lamb. 
Else let me never stand but in a Pillory.  jane. 
You love me both you say?  Speed. 
By this hand.—  Lamb. 
Hand? Zounds by the four and twenty Elements.  jane. 
Pray spare your oaths; I do believe you do  
You would not else make all this stir to woo.  
Sir Godfrey, you are a knight both tough and old,  
A rotten building cannot long time hold.  Lamb. 
Speedwell, live well, die well, and be hanged well.  
Revenge your copy well, your experience will not carry it else.  jane. 
Y'are rich too, at least yourself so say;  
What though? y'are but a gilded man of clay.  Lamb. 
A man of Gingerbread; i'faith I could find in  
My heart to eat him.  jane. 
Should I wed you, the fire with frost must marry  
january and May; I for a younger tarry.  Lamb. 
That's l; introth I'll be thy young Lambskin; thou shalt  
Find me as innocent as a sucking Dove: speak, Sweet  
mistress, am I the youth in a basket?  jane 
You are the sweet youth Sir, whose pretty eyes  
Would make me love; but you must first be wise.  Speede. 
Ah, hah, is your coxcomb cut? I see experience must  
Board this fair Pinnace: a word in private,  Lamb. 
I'll have no words in private, unless I hear too.  Enter Master Bruine, Stephen and Robin. Bru. 
Come Gentlemen, we'll make few  
Winds about it; Merchants in  
Bargaining must not, like Soldiers lying at a siege, stay  
Months, weeks, days, but strike at the first parley.  
Broad-clothes, and Wools, and other rich Commodities, I  
Lately from your brother bought, are all your own.  Ste. 
'Tis well.  Bru. 
Then be not angry gentle Sir,  
If now a string be touched, which hath too long  
Sounded so harshly over all the City;  
I now would wind it to a musical height.  Ste. 
Good Master Alderman I think that string will still  
Ostend mine ear; You mean the jarring  
Twixt me and my brother?  Bru. 
In troth the same.  Ste. 
I hate no poison like that brother's name  Bru. 
O Fie, not so.  Ste. 
uncivil churl, when all his sails were up.  
And that his proud heart danced on golden ways:  Bru. 
As heaven be thanked it still does.  Ste. 
Yet Sir, than I being sunk, and drowned in mine  
Own misery, he would not cast out a poor line  
Of thread to bring me to the shore; I had been  
Dead, and might have starved for him.  Bru. 
A better fate Sir, stood at your elbow.  Ste. 
True Sir; this was he that lifted me from want  
And misery, whose cruel father for that  
Good cast him away; scorning his name and blood;  
Lopped from his side this branch that held me dear.  
For which he's now my son, my joy, my heir,  
But for his father hang him.  Bru. 
Fie, fie.  Ste. 
By heaven.  Bru. 
Come, come, live in more charity, he is your brother;  
If that name offend, I'll sing that tune no more.  
Yonder's my daughter busy with her suitors;  
we'll visit them. Now jane, bid your friends  
Welcome.  jane. 
They must be welcome Sir, that come with you;  
To thee ten thousand welcomes still are due.  Rob. 
My sweet Mistress.  Kiss him. Lamb. 
Lounds Sir knight, we have stood beating the Bush  
And the bird's flown away; this City  
Bowler has kissed the Mistress at first cast.  Bru. 
How fare ye Gentlemen, what cheer Sir knight?  Speed. 
An adventurer still Sir, to this new found land.  Lamb 
He sails about the point Sir, but he cannot put in yet.  Bru. 
The wind may turn Sir. A word Master Foster.  Lamb. 
You see Sir Speedwell, what Card is turned  
Up for trump; I hold my life this spruce  
Citizen will forestall the market, Oh  
These brisk factors, are notable firkers.  Speed. 
I doubt Sir, he will play the merchant with us.  Bru. 
They both are suitors Sir, yet both shoot wide;  
My daughter sure must be your kinsman's bride.  Ste. 
I'll give her a wedding Ring on that condition  
And put a Stone in't worth a thousand pound, Sir.  Bru. 
You have my hand and heart to't, be she pleased so.  Lamb 
'Sfoot, let's show ourselves Gallants, or gallimaufries:  
Shall we be buried by a Cockney. A word  
My fair Zoardes; Do you see Sir, here be those  
That have gone a fishing, and can give you a  
Gudgeon.  Rob.. 
You were best go fish for better manners, or I  
Shall bob for eels with you.  Lamb. 
Zounds are you a striker? Draw, Sir knight.  Bru. 
Not in my house; I pray be quiet Gentlemen.  Rob. 
He dares not do't abroad believe me, Sir.  Ste. 
Now by my life my Boy, for this brave spirit  
I hug thee in mine arms: lose life and limbs  
ere thou forsake thy love.  Lamb. 
he's no Rival here Sir; has struck me,  
And we are Gentlemen.  Speed. 
And hear ye, Sir, let him seek out his equals;  
For some of us are in danger to make her  
A Lady shortly: I know what I speak; what  
I speak, I'll do; yet I'll do nothing, but  
What comes from grave experience.  Ste. 
Speak what you please Sir, he's a Gentleman as  
Good at either of you both, and shall in lists of  
Love for such a bedfellow, brave him that dares,  
And here lay down more gold to win her love,  
Than both your states are worth.  Speed. 
Ha? do you know us, Sir? You grow too bold;  
My experience now hath found you;  
You were once a tattered fellow, your name is  
Foster; have you such gold to give?  Lamb. 
Yes, yes, has won it betting at the bowling Alleys,  
Or at the Pigeon-holes in the Garden Alleys.  Ste. 
You are muddy Grooms to upbraid me with that scorn,  
Which virtue now gilds over; Pray ye Gentlemen  
May I request your names.  Lamb. 
Our names are in the Herald's books I warrant you  
My name is Innocent Lambskin; and this Knight,  
Simply though he stands here, is known to be  
Sir Godfrey Speedwell.  Step. 
Well may he Speed Sir; Lambskin and Speedwell,  
Ha? Is't so? I think I shall give you a medicine  
To purge this itch of love, Sir.  Lamb. 
No itch neither Sir, we have no scabs here,  
But yourself and your cousin.  Ste. 
Very good Sir, my little Lambskin. I have you  
Here in Sheepskin; look you, 'tis so i'faith.  
See, Master Alderman, these two cracked Gallants  
Are in several bonds to my Predecessor  
For a debt of full two thousand apiece.  
cousin, fetch me a Sergeant straight.  Rob. 
Yes Sir.  Speed. 
O let him, I have a protection, Sir.  Ste. 
I'll try that, Sir.  Speed. 
A Sergeant? Nay, than experience must work,  
Legs be strong and bold; when Sergeants wait  
At feasts, the cheer's but cold.  
I'll shift for one.  Ex. Lamb. 
Knight, knight; 'Sfoot if an errand Knight  
Run away, I were an errand Ass to tarry,  
And be catched in the limebush: I love the  
Wench well; but if they have no hole to  
Place me in, but the hole in the Counter,  
I'll be gone and leave ''em; that's flat  Ex. Bru. 
You have scared the suitors from the mark, Sir.  Ste. 
I am glad on't Sir; they are but such as seek  
To build their rotten state on you, and with your  
Wealth to underprop their weakness;  
Believe me, reverend Sir, I had much rather  
You'd venture that my coz might call you father.  Enter Stephens Wife. Bru. 
We'll talk of that anon; See Sir,  
Here comes your wife, the theme  Ent. Stepen's Wife. 
Of all her time, with goodness mixed, the happy  
Woman that was never vexed; y'are welcome  
Mrs Foller.  Wife. 
I thank ye Sir.  Ste. 
Wife, your two debtors were here but now;  S. Speedwell 
And Lambskin; A Wolf could not have torn  
〈◊〉 Lambskin worse, than the bare name  
Of a Serjeant: the very thought made them both  
To take their heels and run away.  Wife. 
'Las, they are poor and lean, and being so;  
Kill them not till they are fatter.  Ste. 
At thy girdle, Sweet, hangs the keys, to  
Lock the prison doors or let them lose:  
'Twas my intent only in way of mirth to  
Rid them from the presence of Mistress jane,  
That our adopted son might have no bar  
Unto his love.  Wife. 
The match is fair; and were that knot once tied,  
I'd send some Angels to attend the bride.  Enter George. Ste. 
Sir, here's your factor.  Bru. 
Are the wares ready.  Geo. 
Yes, and delivered Sir, to Master Foster's servants,  
Who conveyed them in Carts to the Custom.  
House, there to be shipped; but going with them,  
Sir, I met ill news.  Bru. 
Ill news? what is't?  Geo. 
Old Master Foster's ships so richly laden,  
By strange misfortune, Sir, are cast away.  Bru. 
Now heaven forbid!  Rob. 
Oh me!  Ste. 
How? cast away; where?  Bru. 
'Tis impossible; they rid at Dover safe,  
When he outbought my full share in the fraught,  
And paid me down near thirty thousand pounds  
In wares and money.  Geo. 
Which had he not done, you had lost your venture:  
By Master Foster's own appointment Sir, they weighed  
Their Anchors up, and so to come for London;  
But by a merciless storm they all were  
Swallowed, even in the Thames' mouth; yet  
The men were saved, but all the goods were lost.  Rob. 
O my poor father! This loss will break his back.  Ste. 
Ha? What's that to you? if in my favour you'll  
Sit warm, then bury all love to him,  
Nay duty, hear you Sir? What sheddest thou tears  
For him, that had no care to see thy heart drop  
Blood? he was unnatural, and heaven hath  
justly now rewarded him.  Bru. 
'Tis a most strange Fate; he needs would buy my  
Part at any rate, he cared not what; and now all's lost,  Ste. 
Greedy desire he swallowed, and now is swallowed:  
'Tis but his hire; and I'll not pity it, no more  
Than he, in his abundance, did my misery.  Wife. 
I grieve for my poor Gossip, his good wife,  
She never met good fortune all her life,  
And this will break her heartstrings:  
In good sooth I'll go and comfort her.  Ste. 
In good sooth you shall not,  
Nor him, nor her at this time, gentle wife;  
He scorned me in his height, now being poor,  
If that he needs my help, he knows my door.  
Sir, we'll for this time leave you, at fitter leisure,  
We'll have this marriage talked of.  Bru. 
At your own good pleasure.  Ste. 
Come wife; Go not to see your father, Sir, I charge you.  Bru. 
jane, bring your friends toth' door.  Rob. 
I'll help my father, though myself grow poor.  Bru. 
Where's my Factor?  Exeunt. Geo. 
Here Sir.  Bru. 
What, are the square stones, and timber  
Brought as I appointed?  Geo. 
Yes, Sir, and the workmen, that daily ply the  
Work, are in number fourscore at least.  Bru. 
My vows flew up to heaven, that I would make  
Some pious work in the brass book of Fame,  
That might till Doomsday lengthen out my name.  
Near Norton Folgate therefore have I bought  
Ground to erect this house, which I will call  
And dedicate, Saint Marie's Hospital;  
And when 'tis finished, o'er the gates shall stand  
In capital letters, these words fairly graven  
For I have given the work and house to heaven  
And called it, Domus Dei, God's house;  
For in my zealous faith I know full well,  
Where good deeds are, there heaven itself doth dwell.  Ex. Enter Old Foster, Richard his factor, and the Keeper of Ludgate Rich. 
Good Sir, resolve not thus; return again,  
Your debts are not so great, that you should yield  
Your body thus to prison unconstrained.  O. Fost. 
I will not trust the iron hearts of men;  
My credit's lost, my wealth the Sea has swallowed,  
Wracked at my door, even in the mouth o'th' Thames.  
Oh my misfortune! never man like me  
Was so thrown down, and cast to misery.  Rich. 
Dear Sir, be patient.  O. Fost. 
I prithee get thee gone, and with thy diligence  
Assist thy Mistress to keep that little left, to  
Help herself, whilst here in Ludgate I secure  
My body from Writs, Arrests, and Executions,  
Which, well I know, my cruel Creditors will  
Thunder on me. Go, get thee gone; if what  
Is left they'll take, do thou agree;  
If not, I am here resolved to stay and die.  Rich. 
I'll do my best Sir, to procure your peace.  Exit. O. Fost. 
Do so. Come Sir, I yield myself your prisoner,  
You are the Keeper of this Ludgate.  Keep. 
Yes Sir, your name is registered among the prisoners.  O. Fost. 
So, I have seen the fair outside of this tomb before;  
This goodly apple has a rotten core.  Keep. 
As all prisons have, Sir.  O. Fost. 
I prithee bar me of no privilege due to a free  
Citizen; Thou knowest me well?  Keep. 
Yes Master Foster, and I sorrow for your losses,  
Yet doubt not but your son and brother.  O. Fost. 
O speak not of them! do not kiss and kill me:  
I have no son nor brother that esteems me,  
And I for ever hate their memory:  
Prithee no more; I am come sick into a  
Bad Inn, and look for worse attendance,  
I have taken a surfeit of misfortunes, and here  
Must swallow pills  
With poison to recure me: I am sea-sick, Sir,  
And heave my hands to heaven; ne'er to so  
Low an ebb was Foster driven.  Keep. 
There be some Fees to pay, Sir, at your coming in.  O. Fost. 
So, so, if this old walnut-tree, after all this  
cudgeling, have but one cluster left, thou shalt  
Have that too; if not, take off these leaves that  
Cover me; pull off these white locks; rend them from  
My head, and let me in my woes be buried.  Keep. 
'Las, Sir, this house is poor.  O. Fost. 
I think no less;  
For rich men seldom meet with such distress,  
Well, well, what book must I read over now?  
What servile Oar must I be tied to here,  
Slave-like to tug within this christian Galley?  Keep. 
Sir, being the youngest prisoner in the house,  
You must beg at the iron grate above,  
As others do for your relief and theirs.  O. Fost. 
For a beggar to beg, Sir, is no shame;  
And for the iron grate, it bears an emblem  
Of iron-hearted Creditors, that force men lie  
In loathsome prisons thus to starve and die.  Enter Robert and kneels. Keep. 
Who would you speak with, Sir?  
Oh, cry you mercy; 'tis his son:  
I'll leave them.  Exit. O. Fost. 
O torment to my soul! What mak'st thou here?  
Cannot the picture of my misery  
Be drawn, and hung out to the eyes of men,  
But thou must come to scorn and laugh at it?  Rob. 
Dear Sir, I come to thrust my back under your load,  
To make the burden lighter.  O. Fost. 
Hence from my sight, dissembling villain; go,  
Thine Uncle sends defiance to my woe,  
And thou must bring it: Hence, thou basilisk,  
That kill'st me with mine eyes: nay, never kneel;  
These scornful mocks more than my woes I feel.  Rob. 
Alas, I mock ye not; but come in love,  
And natural duty Sir, to beg your blessing;  
And for mine Uncle—  O. Fost. 
Him, and thee I curse,  
Pl starve, e'er I eat bread from his purse,  
Or from thy hand; Out villain, tell that Cur,  
Thy barking Uncle, that I lie not here  
Upon my bed of riot, as he did,  
Covered with all the villainies, which man  
Had ever woven; tell him I lie not so,  
It was the hand of heaven struck me thus low,  
And I do thank it. Get thee gone, I say,  
Or I shall curse thee, strike thee; Prithee away;  
Or if thou'lt laugh thy fill at my poor state,  
Then stay, and listen to the prison grate,  
And hear thy father, an old wretched man,  
That yesterday had thousands, beg and cry,  
To get a penny: Oh my misery!  Rob. 
Dear Sir, for pity hear me.  O. Fost. 
Upon my curse I charge no nearer come,  
I'll be no father to so vild a Son.  Exit. Rob. 
O my abortive fate!  
Why for my good am I thus paid with hate?  
From this sad place of Ludate here I freed  
An Uncle, and I lost a father for it;  
Now is my father here, whom if I succour,  
I then must lose my Uncle's love and favour.  
My Father once being rich, and Uncle poor,  
I him relieving was thrust forth of doors;  
Baffled, reviled, and disinherited:  
Now mine own Father here must beg for bread,  
Mine Uncle being rich, and yet if I  
Feed him, myself must beg. Oh misery,  
How bitter is thy taste! yet I will drink  
Thy strongest poison; fret what mischief can,  
I'll feed my Father, though, like the Pelican,  
I peck mine own breast for him.  Old Foster, and above at the grate, a box hanging down. O. Fost. 
Bread, bread, one penny to buy a  
Loaf of bread for the tender mercy!  Rob. 
O me my shame! I know that voice full well;  
I'll help thy wants, although thou curse me still.  O. Fost. 
Bread, bread; some Christian man send back  
Your charity to an number of poor prisoners;  
One penny for the tender mercy.  Robin puts in money. 
The hand of heaven reward you, gentle Sir,  
Never may you want, never feel misery;  
Let blessings in unnumbered measure grow,  
And fall upon your head where'er you go.  Rob. 
O happy comfort! curses to the ground  
First struck me, now with blessings I am crowned.  O. Fost. 
Bread, bread, for the tender mercy; one  
Penny for a loaf of bread.  Rob. 
I'll buy more blessings; Take thou all my store,  
I'll keep no coin; and see my father poor.  O. Fost, 
Good Angels guard you, Sir, my prayers shallbe  
That heaven may bless you for this charity.  Rob. 
If he knew me, sure he would not say so;  
Yet I have comfort if by any means  
I get a blessing from my father's hands:  
How cheap are good prayers? A poor penny buys  
That, by which man up in a minute flies,  
And mounts to heaven.  Enter Stephen. 
Oh me, mine Uncle sees me!  Ste. 
Now Sir, what make you here so near the prison?  Rob. 
I was going, Sir, to buy meat for a poor bird I have,  
That sits so sadly in the Cage of late,  
I think he'll die for sorrow.  Ste. 
So Sir, your pity will not quit you pains, I fear me;  
I shall find that bird I think to be that churlish  
Wretch, your father, that now has taken  
Shelter here in Ludgate; Go too, Sir, urge me  
Not, you'd best; I have given you warning:  
Fawn not on him nor come not near him,  
If you'll have my love.  Rob. 
'las Sir, that Lamb  
Were most unnatural that should hate the Dam.  Ste, 
Lamb me no Lambs, Sir.  Rob. 
Good Uncle; 'las you know when you lay here.  
I succoured you, so let me now help him.  Ste. 
Yes, as he did me,  
To laugh and triumph at my misery;  
You freed me with his gold, but 'gainst his will:  
For him I might have rotted, and lain still;  
So shall he now.  Rob. 
Alack the day!  Ste. 
If him thou pity, 'tis thine own decay:  O. Fost. 
Bread, bread, some charitable man remember  
The poor prisoners; bread for the tender mercy,  
One penny.  Rob. 
O listen Uncle; that's my poor father's voice.  Ste. 
There let him howl; Get you gone, and come not near him  Rob. 
O my soul! what tortures dost thou feel?  
Earth ne'er shall find, a son so true,  
Yet forced to be unkind.  Exit. Ste. 
Well, go thy ways, thou pattern of true virtue;  
My heart is full, I could even weep, and much ado I had to forbear,  
To hear a brother begging in a jail,  
That but e'er while spread up a lofty sail  
As proudly as the best: Oh, 'twere a sin  
Unpardonable in me, should I not succour him?  
Yes, I will do't, yet closely it shallbe done,  
And he not know from whence his comforts come.  
What ho, Keeper there, a word I pray.  Enter Keeper. Keep. 
What's your pleasure, Sir.  Ste. 
What's he that at the grate there begged even now.  Keep. 
One Master Foster, Sir, a decayed Citizen new  
Come in. Cry you mercy Sir, you know him  
Better than myself, I think.  Ste. 
I should do, knew he me as I would know  
Him: prithee take him from the grate,  
And that no more he stand to beg,  
There's ten pound to pay his score, and  
Take off all his wants; if he demand  
Who sends it, tell him, 'tis thine own free  
Hand to lend him money.  Keep. 
Well Sir, I shall.  Ste. 
Spend what he will, my purse shall pay it all;  
And at his parting hence, the poorest prisoner,  
And all free Citizens that live in Ludgate,  
Shall bless his coming in; I'll for his sake  
Do something now, that whilst this City stands,  
Shall keep the Foster's name engraven so high,  
As no black storm shall cloud their memory.  Keep. 
Heaven bless your purpose, Sir.  Exeunt. Enter Stephens Wife, and her sister Old Foster's Wife. Wife. 
Sister, there's no way to make sorrow light  
But in the noble bearing; be content;  
Blows given from heaven are our due punishment;  
All ship wracks are no drownings, you see buildings  
Made fairer from their Ruins; he that I married,  
The brother to your husband, lay, you know,  
On the same bed of misery, yet now  
he's ranked with the best Citizens.  M. Fost. 
O you were borne to wealth and  
Happiness; ay, to want and scorn!  Wife. 
Come, I will work my husband; stay this grief.  
The longest sorrow finds at last relief.  Enter Clown. 
Now Sir, your business.  Clo. 
Marry mistress here are two creatures  
scarce able to make one man, desires to speak  
With you.  Wife. 
What are they, know their names.  Clo. 
Nay, I know that already; the one is a  
Thing that was placed into the  
World, by the head and shoulders to be  
Wondered at, and 'tis called a knight; the other  
Is a coach-horse of the same overriden race;  
And that's a foolish Gentleman.  Wife. 
O, they are my old debtors, Speedwell and Lambskin  
Go call them in, and my gentle sister  
Comfort yourself and my imprisoned brother,  
To whom commend me give to him this gold,  
What good I can, I'll do for him be bold.  M. Fost. 
May heavenly blessings guard you from all ill:  
Never was woman vexed as I am still.  Exit. Enter Speedewell and Lambskin. Wife. 
Now good Sir Godfrey and Master Innocent.  Lamb. 
I put my innocent case into your hands  
Mistress, as a simple country Client thrusts his money  
Into a lawyer's, who stands upon no great  
Terms to take it.  Speed. 
We come about the old business, the sickness of the purse Lady  Clo. 
And they'd be loath to keep their beds i'th' counter  
Mistress; they are afraid of Sergeants, Master Lambskin,  
Knows that Mace is a binder.  Lamb. 
No truly it makes me lose for I never smell it, though  
It be two streets off, but it gives me a stool presently,  Clo. 
ay, you have been a loose liver always,  
'Tis time to look to you.  Speed. 
Fair Lady, we are your debtors, and owe you money.  
Experience tells us that our bonds are forfeit,  
For which your husband threatened to arrest us; my  
Shoulders love no such clappings, I love  
Tobacco, but would be loath to drink in Woodstreet.  
Pipes; some money we will pay ere we go hence:  
I speak you see with grave experience.  Wife. 
I know it well, Sir.  Lamb. 
Had not your husband (when we went about fowling  
For the Alderman's daughter) driven away the Bird  
We might have bidden you to a better breakfast;  
But now you must take what we can set before you.  Ent. Robert. Wife. 
I am content to do so: you shall find  
Nor me nor my husband carry a griping mind.  
Now coz, where's your Uncle.  Rob. 
He's hard at hand, I saw him coming  
With the Lord Maior and Aldermen.  Lamb. 
Zounds Knight, if the Maior come  
The shoulder clappers are not far off.  Wife. 
O fear not, I'll be your surety Sir.  Clo. 
Do you not smell Poultry ware, Sir Godfrey?  Speed. 
Most horribly, I'll not endure the scent on't.  Wife. 
Upon my trust none here shall do you wrong;  
What is his business with the Alderman?  Rob. 
About the entertainment of the King  
That means to visit London.  Wife. 
Saw you your sad father?  Rob. 
I did; would I might never see man more  
Since he so hates my sight; the prison door,  
Which gapes for comers in, that mouth of hell,  
Shut me out with a churlish cold farewell;  
After my fathers most unnatural part  
Was played on miseries stage, mine Uncle comes  
In thunder on me, threatening with black storms  
To nail me to the earth, if I relieved my  
Poor old father.  Ent. Stephen. Clo. 
Here's my master now Gentlemen.  Ste. 
O Gentlemen, y'are both welcome,  
Have you paid this money on your bonds yet?  Wife. 
Not yet Sir, but here they come like honest Gentlemen  
To take some order for it: good Sweetheart  
Shall it be put to me.  Ste. 
Do as you please;  
In all thy deeds thou'rt governed with good stars,  
Therefore if thou criest peace, I'll not raise wars.  
e'en order it how thou wilt.  Wife. 
I thank ye Sir; then tell me Gentlemen,  
What present money can you pay?  Speed. 
Two hundred pound we can lay down.  Lamb. 
And take up seven times as much if we knew  
Where to get it; but there's our lamentable ease:  
Mistress, if you strip us any nearer, you'll strip the  
Skin and all I'll assure you,  Wife. 
We'll shear no sheep so close.  Lamb. 
No sheep forsooth, but a poor innocent Lambskin.  Clo. 
You should be a Calf by your white face.  Wife. 
All your two thousand pound Gentlemen we quit,  
For your two hundred: go pay the money to  
My coz, and receive your two bonds cancelled:  
Say Sir, are ye content.  Ste. 
Wife I must stand to the arbitrement.  
Go cousin, receive their  
Money, and Sirrah make them drink.  Clo. 
I'll make them drink if they will; come  
Gallants empty your bags, and I'll bombast  
Your bellies; this lean Gentleman looks  
As if he had no lining in's guts, I could  
Take him by the leg and hurl him into  
The dog-house.  Exeunt. Ste. 
How now sweet wife, what art thou  
Musing on?  Wife. 
I must come a-wooing to you Sir.  Ste. 
A wooing sweet, for what?  Wife. 
For your brother; Oh 'tis unmeet  
For souls framed by one square to grow uneven,  
'Tis like a war 'mongst the great lights of heaven,  
One cannot lose his beauty, but the other  
Suffers eclipse; so brother against brother.  Ste. 
Wouldst have me kiss him that would kill me.  Wife. 
Would you kill a man lying at your feet:  
Do good for ill.  Ste. 
Thy songs are Angels tunes, and on thy wings  
I'll fly with thee to heaven.  
Thou speakest as I would have thee;  
His debts I have justly weighed, and find them light.  Wife. 
The easier than ta'en off.  Ste. 
Thou sayest most right,  
But I of purpose keep aloof to try  
My kinsman; whom I spied most dolefully  
Hovering about the grate, where his father cried  
With piteous voice, for bread; yet did I chide  
And railed against the Boy; but my heart says  
( howe'er my tongue) it was drowned in tears,  
To see such goodness in a son.  Wife. 
Such wheels in children's bosom seldom run.  Ste. 
I'll lay a wager wife, that this two hundred pound  
Paid by these foolish fellows, will by the Boy  
Be given his father.  Wife. 
Troth would it might:  Ste. 
In doing me such wrong he does me right  
Ludgate was once my dwelling, and to show  
That I true feeling of his misery knew;  
Albeit long since blown o'er; so thou'lt consent,  
Within that place I'll raise some monument,  
Shall keep our names alive till doomsday.  Wife. 
I gladly shall agree.  
To any act that tends to charity.  Enter Mr. Bruine. Bru. 
Come, where's Mr. Foster? Oh you lose time Sir,  
Not meeting fortune that comes to kiss you.  
The Lord Maior and Aldermen stay at the Guildhall,  
Expecting you, as well to set down order  
Touching the entertainment of the King,  
As to elect you for the following year a Sheriff of London.  Ste. 
Their loves outstrip my merit.  
Yet since they lay that load on me, I'll bear it,  
And wait in scarlet on my liege and King.  
But pray resolve me, Master Alderman,  
Why makes the King this visitation?  Bru. 
Troth Sir, to honour me, I thank his highness,  
Who with my Lord the Cardinal comes along  
To see the dedication of my House,  
Built for the weary travellers to rest in;  
Where stands three hundred beds for their relief,  
With meat, drink, and some money when they part,  
Which I'll give freely with a willing heart.  Ste. 
A pious, worthy, and religious act:  
Come Sir, toth' Guildhall; Wife, look to your  
Kinsman, watch him near; but do not hinder  
Him if he relieve his father: Come Master Alderman,  
With such sweet incense up your offerings fly,  
I'll build one Altar more to charity.  Exeunt.  

Actus Quintus.  Enter Old Foster, his Wife, and Keeper. Keeper. 
COme, come, be merry Sir; do as mourners do at  
Funerals, wear your Hat in your eyes, and  
Laugh in your heart.  O. Fost. 
I have no such fat legacy left me,  
To teach me how to play the hypocrite.  Keep. 
No? Why look ye Sir, you shall want neither  
Meat, drink, money, nor any thing that the  
House affords, or if any thing abroad like ye,  
Sir, here's money, send for what you will Sir:  
Nay, you shall beg no more at the Grate neither.  O. Fost. 
Ha? Is not this Ludgate?  Keep. 
Yes Sir.  O. Fost. 
A jail, a prison, a tomb of men locked up;  
Alive and buried?  Keep. 
'Tis what you please to call it.  O. Fost. 
O, at what crevice then hath comfort  
Like a Sunbeam crept? for all the doors  
And windows are of Iron, and barred to keep  
Her out; I had a limb cut from my body  
Dear to me as life; I had a son and brother too;  
Oh grief, they both would give me poison first  
In gold, before their hollow palms ten  
Drops should hold of nature's drink, cold water,  
But to save my life one minute; whence  
Should pity come, when my best friends do.  
Beat it from this room.  Keep. 
No matter Sir, since you have good meat set  
Before you, never ask who sent it; if heaven  
Provide for you, and make the fowls of the  
Air your. Cators, feed you fat, and be thankful,  
And so I leave you.  Exit. M. Fost. 
The Keeper is your friend, and powers true balm  
Into your smarting wounds; therefore dear  
Husband endure the dressing with patience.  O. Fost. 
O wife, my losses are as numberless as the  
Sea's sands that swallowed them. And shall  
I in reckoning them, my sad griefs multiply?  M. Fost. 
You may Sir, but your dim eyes so thick with tears do run.  
You cannot see from whence your comforts come,  
Besides your debts being truly counted cannot  
Be great.  O. Fost. 
But all my wealth and state lies in the Sea's Bottom.  M. Fost. 
It again may rise.  O. Fost. 
Oh never.  M. Fost. 
Good Sir, so hope, for I from heaven espy  
An arm to pluck you from this misery.  Enter Keeper. Keep. 
Sir, there's one without desires to speak with you.  O. Fost. 
Go send him in; none comes to do me good  
My wealth is lost, now let them take my blood.  Enter Robert. 
Ha? what art thou? Call for the Keeper there  
And thrust him out of doors, or lock me up.  M. Fost. 
O 'tis your son, Sir.  O. Fost 
I know him not:  
I am no King, unless of scorn and woe,  
Why kneel'st thou then; why dost thou mock me so?  Rob. 
O my dear father, hither am I come  
Not like a threatning storm to increase your wrack  
For I would take all sorrows from your back  
To lay them all on my own.  O. Fost. 
Rise mischief, rise, away and get thee gone.  Rob. 
O if I be thus hateful to your eye  
I will depart, and wish I soon may die;  
Yet let your blessing, Sir, but fall on me.  O. Fost. 
My heart still hates thee.  M. Fost. 
Sweet husband.  O. Fost. 
Get you both gone;  
That misery takes some rest that dwells alone;  
Away thou villain.  Rob. 
Heaven can tell, ache but your finger, I to make it  
Well, would cut my hand off.  O. Fost. 
Hang thee, hang thee.  M. Fost. 
Husband.  O. Fost. 
Destruction meet thee, turn the key there ho.  Rob. 
Good Sir: I'm gone, I will not stay to grieve you:  
Oh knew you (for your woes) what pains I feel,  
You would not scorn me so. See Sir, to cool  
Your heat of burning sorrow I have got  
Two hundred pounds and glad it is my lot  
To lay it down, with reverence at your feet;  
No comfort in the world to me is sweet,  
Whilst thus you live in moan.  O. Fost. 
Stay.  Rob. 
Good troth Sir, I'll have none on't back,  
Could but one penny of it save my life.  M. Fost. 
Yet stay and hear him; Oh unnatural strife,  
In a hard father's bosom.  O. Fost. 
I see mine error now: oh can there grow  
A Rose upon a Bramble? did there e'er flow  
Poison and health together in one tide?  
I'm borne a man; reason may step aside.  
And lead a father's love out of the way:  
Forgive me, my good Boy, I went astray;  
Look, on my knees I beg it; not for joy  
Thou bringst this golden rubbish, which I spurn  
But glad in this, the heaven's mine eye balls turn,  
And fix them right to look upon that face  
Where love remains with pity, duty, grace.  
Oh my dear wronged boy!  Rob. 
Gladness o'erwhelms my heart with joy I cannot speak  M. Fost. 
Crosses of this foolish world.  
Did never grieve my heart with torments more  
Than it is now grown light,  
With joy and comfort of this happy sight.  O. Fost. 
Yet wife, I disinherited this boy.  Rob. 
Your blessings all I crave.  O. Fost. 
And that enjoy for ever, evermore; my  
Blessings fly, to pay thy virtues, love and charity.  Enter Stephens Wife M. Fost. 
Here comes your brother's wife,  
Welcome dear sister.  Wife. 
I thank you; how fare you brother?  O. Fost. 
Better than your husband's hate could wish me,  
That laughs to see my back with sorrow's bow:  
But I am rid of half my ague now.  Wife. 
Had you an ague then?  O. Fost. 
Yes, and my heart had every hour a fit.  
But now 'thas left me well, and I left it.  Wife. 
O, 'tis well cousin, what make you hear I pray?  Rob. 
To support a weak house falling to decay.  Wife. 
'Tis well, if you can do't, and that the timber  
You underprop it with be all your own.  
Hark coz, where's your Uncle's money?  Rob. 
Faith Aunt 'tis gone, but not at dice,  
Nor drabbing.  Wife. 
Sir, I believe with your Uncle's gold your father  
You relieve.  Rob. 
You are saved believing so, your belief's true.  Wife. 
You cut large thongs of that's another's due  
And you will answer't ill: now in good troth  
I laugh at this jest, much good do them both:  
My wager I had won, had I but laid.  O. Fost. 
What has my poor boy done, that you have  
Made so much blood rise in's cheeks?  Wife. 
Nothing dear brother, indeed all's well:  
The course that he has run I like and love,  
Let him hold on the same;  
A sons love to a father none can blame;  
I will not leave your brother's iron heart  
Till I have beat it soft with my entreats.  O. Fost. 
'Twill ne'er be music 'tis so full of frets.  Wife. 
Frets make best music: strings the higher  
Racked sound sweetest.  O. Fost. 
And sound nothing when they are cracked,  
As is his love to me, and mine to him.  Wife. 
I hope you both in smoother streams shall swim:  
he's now the Sheriff of London, and in counsel  
Set at the Guildhall, in his scarlet Gown  
With Maior and Aldermen, how to receive the King,  
Who comes to see Master Bruin's Hospital  
To morrow consecrated byth' Cardinal,  
And old Saint Marie's Spittle, here by Shoreditch.  M. Fost. 
I sister, he and you may sit 'bout what you will;  
Heaven I'm sure prospers it, but I am ever crossed;  
You have been bound for thee great voyages,  
Yet ne'er run a ground; maid, wife, and widow,  
And wife again; have spread full and fair sails,  
No wracks you e'er did dread, nor e'er felt any;  
But even close ashore, I'm sunk, and midst of  
All my wealth made poor.  Wife. 
You must thank heaven.  M. Fost. 
I do indeed, for all.  Wife. 
Sister, that hand can raise that gives the fall.  Enter Keeper. Keep. 
Master Foster, the new Sheriff your brother  
Is come to Ludgate, and I am come in haste  
To know your pleasure, if you would see him.  O. Fost. 
I'll see a fury first, hence, clap to the door I prithee.  Wife. 
Why, 'tis your brother Sir.  Rob. 
Father let's fly the thunder of his rage.  Wife. 
Stand valiantly, and let me bear the storm, all hurts  
That are, and ruins in your bosoms I'll repair.  Enter Stephen Foster. Ste. 
Where's the Keeper, go Sir, take  
My Officers, and see your prisoners  
Presently conveyed from Ludgate unto  
Newgate, and the Counters.  Keep. 
I shall Sir.  Ste. 
Let the Constables of the Wards assist you,  
Go, dispatch and take these with you; how now,  
What mak'st thou here thou Caitiff? had com'st  
Thou to stitch his wounds that seeks to cut  
My Throat, dar'st thou in despite relieve this  
Dotard?  O. Fost. 
Get thee from my sight, thou devil in red;  
Com'st thou in scarlet pride to tread on thy poor  
Brother in a jail, Is there but one small conduit-  
pipe that runs could water to my comfort, and  
Wouldst thou cut off that thou cruel man?  Ste. 
Yes, I'll stop that pipe that thou mayst pining sit,  
When drops but fell on me, thou poisond'st it:  
Thou thrust'st a son's name from thy cruel breast,  
For clothing of his Uncle; now that Uncle  
Shall thrust him naked forth for clothing thee,  
Banished for ever from my wealth and me.  O. Fost. 
Thou canst not be to nature so uneven,  
To punish that which has a pay from heaven;  
Pirty I mean, and duty; Wouldst thou strike?  
Wound me then, that will kill thee if I can,  
thou'rt no brother, and I'll be no man.  Ste. 
Thou ravest.  O. Fost. 
How can I choose? thou makest me mad,  
For shame thou shouldst not make these white hairs sad;  
Churl, beat not my poor boy, let him not lose  
Thy love for my sake, I had rather bruise  
My soul with torments for a thousand years, could  
I but live them, rather than salt tears thy  
Malice draw from him; see here's thy gold,  
Tell it, none's stole, my woes can ne'er be told.  Rob. 
O misery Is nature quite forgot?  O. Fost. 
Choke with thy dunghill muck, and vex me not.  Ste. 
No, keep it, he perhaps, that money stole  
From me, to give it thee, for which to vex thy  
Soul, I'll turn him forth of doors, make him  
Thy heir, of Jails, miseries, curses, and despair;  
For here I disinherit him of all.  O. Fost. 
No matter, lands to him in heaven will fall.  Wife. 
Good Husband.  M. Fost.. 
brother.  Rob. 
Dear Uncle.  Ste. 
 O. Fost. 
And damn'd, the devils thumbs stop thine ears.  Ste. 
I'll make thee wash those curses off with tears.  
Keeper, away with him out of my sight,  
And do Sir, as I charged you.  Keep. 
Yes Sir; I will.  O. Fost. 
Poor tyranny; when Lions weak Lambs kill.  Ex Ste. 
How now wife, art vexed yet?  Wife. 
Never so well content, believe me Sir;  
Your mildness wears this mask of cruelty well.  Ste. 
I'm glad theyare gone, mine eyes with rain did swell,  
And much ado they had from pouring down:  
The Keeper knows my mind, Wife I have paid  
My brother's debts; and when he's out of door:  
To march to Newgate, he shall be set free.  Wife. 
O let me kiss thee for this charity;  
But for your cousin Sir.  Ste. 
He's my lives best health,  
The Boy shall not miscarry for more wealth  
Than London Gates look safe up every night,  
My breath in black clouds flies, my thoughts  
Are white.  Wife. 
Why from Ludgate do you remove prisoners?  Ste. 
This is my meaning wife;  
I'll take the prison down and build it new,  
With Leads to walk on, Rooms large and fair:  
For when myself lay there, the noisome air,  
Choked up my spirits, and none better know,  
What prisoners feel, than they that taste the woe.  
The workmen are appointed for the business,  
I will ha''t dispatched before 'tis thought on.  Wife. 
In good deeds I will walk hand in hand with you,  
There is a fair tenement, adjoining close to the Gate  
That was my fathers, I'll give it freely, take it down,  
And add so much ground to the work.  
'Tis fairly given.  
Thy soul on prisoners prayers shall mount to heaven:  
The plumbers and the Workmen have surveyed the ground  
From Paddington; from whence I'll have laid pipes  
Long to London to convey sweet water into Ludgate;  
From fresh Springs: when charity tunes thee, pipe the  
Poor man sings.  Enter Keeper. 
How now Keeper.  Keep. 
The prisoners are removed Sir.  Ste. 
What did you with my brother?  Keep. 
As you commanded Sir, I have discharged him.  Ste. 
How did he meet that unexpected kindness?  Keep. 
Troth Sir, as a man overcome twixt grief and gladness,  
But turning to his son, he fetched a sigh  
So violent, as if his heart would break,  
And silent, wept, having no power to speak.  Wife. 
'Las good old man, some sweet bird must sing,  
And give his sorrows present comforting.  Ste. 
Not yet, I'll wrack his sorrows to the height,  
And of themselves they'll then sink softly down;  
Keeper, go thou again after my brother,  
Charge in my name him and his son to appear  
Before the King, to whom I will make known  
Their wrongs against me; showing just cause  
To disinherit both by course of law. Be gone.  Keep. 
I am gone Sir.  Exit. Ste. 
Come Wife.  Wife. 
What's your meaning Sir?  Ste. 
Thou shall know that anon.  
The heavens oft scowl, clouds thicken, winds blow high,  
Yet the brightest Sun clears all, and so will I.  Exeunt. Enter, Henry the third Mountford, Pembroke, Arundell, Lord Maior, Sheriff Foster, Cardinal, Bruine, &c. King. 
O! welcome is all love, our people's shouts  
In their heart's language, make our Ben-venues,  
Most high and sovereign; we return all thanks  
Unto our loving Citizens, chiefly to you Sir,  
Whose pious work invites our Majesty to royalize  
This place with our best presence, accompanied with this  
Reverend Cardinal; would we might, after many broils,  
End our days in these religious toils;  
We would work most faithfully; but bounteous Sir,  
How do you call your buildings?  Bru. 
Unless it please your Majesty to change it,  
I call it, Domus Dei.  King. 
The house of God, it is too good to change, pray you proceed.  Bru. 
These are my ends to all distressed Christians,  
Whose travails this way bends the hospital,  
Shall free succour be, for three days, and three nights  
Sojourn, for diet, and lodging, both sweet, and  
Satisfying; and if their need be such, as much in  
Coin, as shall for three days more defray their  
Further travail; this unto heaven, be you  
Testator, good my Liege, and witness with me, noble  
Gentlemen, most free and faithfully, I dedicate.  King. 
An honourable work, and deserves large memory.  Moun. 
'Tis a good example, 'tis pity 'tis no better followed.  Arun. 
But say Sir, now in some future age, perhaps some two or three hundred year behind us, this place  
Intended for a use so charitable, should be  
Unhallowed again, by villainous inhabitants; say whores,  
In the stead of christians, and your hospitable  
Tenements, turned into stews; would not this grieve  
You in your grave?  Bru. 
If my grave were capable of grief: sure it would Sir.  King. 
Prithee be a false Prophet.  Arun. 
I will, if I can, my Lord.  King. 
Let now our Heralds in the streets proclaim,  
The title, and office, of this hospital;  
Make known to all distressed travellers, that  
We'll accept this charitable house, this Domus Dei:  
Shall be their free sojourn, as is proposed.  Enter the one way, Stephens wife, the other, Mistress Foster, jane, Old Foster, Robert and Keeper, All kneel. King. 
What are these petitioners?  Rob. 
Each hath a knee for duty, the other for petition,  King. 
Rise, your duty's done, your petitions shall need  
No knees, so your intents be honest, does  
None here know them?  Ste. 
Yes my good Lord, there's now a wonder in your sight.  King. 
A wonder, Master Sheriff, you mean for beauty.  Ste. 
No my Liege, I would not so boast mine  
Own wife, but 'tis a wonder that excels beauty.  King. 
A wonder in a woman; What is't I prithee?  Ste. 
Patience my Liege, this is a woman that  
Was never vexed.  King. 
You may boast it largely; 'tis a subject's happiness  
Above a Queen's; Have you suits to us?  Rob. 
I am the suppliant plaintiff, royal Henry  
From me their griefs take their original.  King. 
What art thou?  Rob. 
Even what your Grace shall please to make of me;  
I was the son to this distressed father, until he  
Took his paternity off, and threw me from his love,  
Than I became son to mine Uncle by adoption,  
Who likewise that hath ta'en away again,  
And thrown me back to poverty; never was  
Son so tossed betwixt two fathers, yet knows  
Not one, for still the richest does despise his heir,  
And I am back expulsed into despair.  King. 
This may your vices cause.  Rob. 
For that I come to your impartial censure for a doom.  King. 
We hear, speak on, we know the parties,  
Each one relate his grief, and if it lie in us,  
We'll yield relief; 'tis first requisite that we  
Know of you Sir, the cause of this your son's disinheritance  O. Fost. 
Before I understood his virtuous mind,  
Or weighed his disposition to be kind,  
I did that froward work; This now great man,  
Was an unthrifty wretch, a prodigal then.  
And I disdained to know his brotherhood,  
Denied relief to him; this child kind and good  
Against my contradiction, did him relieve, as his  
Distressed Uncle, at this I chide; for bade,  
Still he holds on his course,  
He grows more kind, and he in wasting worse;  
My rage continued as it had begun,  
And in that rage I threw away my son.  Ste. 
The like plead I, my Lord: for when my state  
Had raised itself by an uncertain fate,  
I took this outcast child, made him my own,  
As full and free, as I myself had swoon  
The seed that brought him forth; for this my love,  
His obliged duty presently did prove  
A traitor to my trust, against my will,  
Succouring that foe, which I did love so ill,  
Only for hating him; my charity being thus  
Abused, and quit with injury, what could I then  
But as his father erst, so I again might throw  
Him from my love? for worse is love abused  
Then new borne hate, and should be so refused:  
I did a father's part, if it were bad,  
Blame him for both, there I my pattern had.  King. 
You fall betwixt two pillars Sir, is't not so?  Rob. 
Unhappy fate, my Lord, yet thus I plead:  
For this my father's hate I might deserve,  
I broke his precepts, and did unchildly swerve  
From his commission, I to my Uncle gave  
What was my fathers, striving thereby to save  
His fall'n repute; he raged, I did it still,  
Yet must confess as it was well, 'twas ill,  
Well in my love, methought, ill to my fate:  
For I thereby ruined my own estate,  
But that mine Uncle throws me forth of door  
For the same cause he took me in before,  
Beats forest, 'gainst my bosom; if 'twere good  
To take from a father for an Uncle's food,  
In laws of love and nature, how much rather  
Might I abridge an Uncle for a father?  
charity's, a virtue generally stands,  
And should dispersed be through all men's hands.  
Then would you keep't alone; for when your heir  
I first adopted was, charity was there:  
How errs your judgement then? seeing you see  
What was good in you, makes sin in me;  
You'll say my father did it, oh throw away  
That soul excuse; let not discretion stray  
So far aside; if custom lawful make,  
Than sin were lawful for example's sake;  
Nor were these wasted goods only your own,  
Since part was mine having adoption;  
Then do him right, my Lord, yet do no wrong,  
For where my duty failed my love was strong.  King. 
With an impartial ear we have heard your  
Loving story, 'tis both fair and honest.  Ste. 
O let me now anticipate your Grace,  
And casting off the shadow of a face,  
Show my hearts true figure, how have I strived  
To make this forced counterfeit long lived,  
And now it bursts; come into my heart,  
I have two jewels here shall never part  
From my love's eye watch, two worthy to be filled,  
On times best record; a woman and a child,  
Now Sir, to you I come, we must be friends,  
Though envy wills not so, yet love contends  
'gainst envy and her forces; my young years  
Say I must offer first, a peace in tears.  O. Fost. 
O let my shame my bosom's centre break!  
Love is so young it coys, but cannot speak.  King. 
You bless mine eyes with objects that become  
The theater of Kings to look upon.  Ste. 
The keeper is discharged Sir, your debts are paid,  
And from the prison youare a new free man made:  
There's not a Creditor can ask you aught,  
As your son did form, so have I bought  
Your liberty with mine, and to increase it more,  
Because I know bare liberty is poor  
Without assistance: to raise your state again,  
The thirds of mine are yours, say you Amen.  Wife. 
No, not to that, you are kind brothers now,  
Divide by halves that love, and I'll allow.  Ste. 
Thou art only wise in virtue, as thou setst down,  
So let it be, half my estate's your own.  O. Fost. 
It whole redounds again, for I am yours;  
Forget this minute my forgetful hours.  Ste. 
O, they are buried all Sir.  King. 
This union's good, such league should ever be in brotherhood.  Ste. 
Yet without boast, my Liege, let me relate  
One small thing more, remorse of my own state,  
And my dear brother's worse succession;  
For that we both have prisoners been in one  
Selfsame place of woe, and felt those throws  
That Ludgate yields; my charity bestows  
Some alms of comfort: Keeper you can speak it.  Keep. 
And many hundreds more Sir, you have re-edified  
And built it fair, adding more ground to it,  
And by pipes of lead from Paddington, drawn  
Water thither, free for all prisoners, lodgings  
Likewise free, and a hundred pounds yearly, to make  
Them fues for better comfort: all this is almost finished:  Kin. 
A worthy work, the better being done in the Founders ere,  
Not left unto succession.  Ste. 
O my good Lord, I ever keep in mind an English  
Sentence, which my tutor is, and teaches me to act my  
Charity with mine own hands so doubtful is  
Performance, when the Benefactor's dead.  King. 
What is't I prithee?  Ste. 
This my good Lord, women are forgetful.  
Children unkind, Executors covetous, and take what they find,  
If any man ask where the deads' goods became,  
The Executor swears he died a poor man.  King. 
You have prevented well, so has this good Alderman,  
I wish you many Scholars.  Wife. 
You make some doubt of me in this Sir;  
Did you not say that women were forgetful,  King. 
You have vexed her now Sir, how do you answer that?  Ste. 
No my Lord, she's exempt from the proverb.  Wife. 
No my Lord, I'll help it better, I do confess  
That women are forgetful, yet ne'er the less  
I am exempt, I know my fate, and find  
My dear husband must not leave me behind,  
But I must go before him, and 'tis said,  
The grave's good rest when women go first to bed.  Ste. 
Thanks for thy excuse good wife, but not thy love  
To fill my grave before me, I would not live to see that day.  Wife. 
Prithee no more, I had rather be angry than flattered.  King. 
You have a wonder Master Sheriff, a priceless jewel.  Ste. 
Many jewels my good Lord; a brother, wife, and child,  
For this I would have strove even with a father,  
howe'er rough storms did in my brows appear,  
Within my bosom it was always clear.  O. Fost. 
I give him to you now Sir.  Ste. 
I take him, and to him back do give,  
All that myself behind in state shall leave.  O. Fost. 
And all that you gave me, I do bestow,  
So in one hour become full heir to two.  Bru. 
I claim a third by this bonds virtue,  
See as a third father, thou art heir to those.  jane. 
I will not go to him father on any of these conditions.  Rob. 
You shall have love to boot too, sweet jane.  jane. 
Nay, and you play booty, I dare not trust you.  Rob. 
What shall I say, except my hand and heart,  
Tied in a true-love's Knot, ne'er to part.  jane. 
I marry Sir, these are better conditions than the  
Inheritance of three fathers; let me have  
Love in Esse, let lands follow in Posse:  
Now I'll have thee as fast as the Priest  
Can dispatch us, let him read as fast as he can.  King. 
The liveliest harmony that ere I heard;  
All instruments compared to these sweet tunes,  
Are dull and harsh; I joy to see so good a child.  
A woman wonder, brothers reconciled;  
You worthy Sir, did invite us to a feast,  
we'll not forget it, but will be your guest,  
Because we'll view these wonders o'er again,  
Whose records do deserve a brazen Pen,  
But this above the rest, in golden text,  
Shall be insculpt; A Woman never Vexed.  Exeunt. 
FINIS.