THE SWAGGERING damsel.  
A COMEDY.  
Written by R. C.  
Non satis insidiis est admiranda Virago.  
LONDON. Printed by Tho. Cotes, for Andrew crook; and are to be sold at his Shop, at the Green Dragon, in Paul's Churchyard. 1640.   

To his worthy Friend, Mr. Robert chamberlain on His Swaggering Damsel.  
WHat pretty humour was thy Muse in when,  
She put on Breeches, and the dress of men;  
Casting aside her Robe, embroidered thick,  
With Laurel sprigs, and Flowers of Rhetoric;  
Or what conceit had mercury, when he,  
Made use of Venus' looking-glass to see  
How his shape female did become him, sure  
She tainted him being herself impure;  
No, she is chaste, and in her genial bed,  
Hermes himself would lose his Maidenhead:  
Cupid has stuffed her pillow with loose hairs,  
Plucked from his silken curls, and oft repairs  
Unto her Slumbers with a balmy kiss,  
Charming her brain to teem with love like His.  
Her sheets are sweetly aired, and spun so fine,  
Ladies may have worse lodging, light thy Pine  
Then glorious Hymen, at our Damsels eyes,  
That she may shine in her solemnities,  
And dazzle her detractors, thou choice Friend,  
Shall give me leave with justice to commend;  
Thy pains to the Pierides, thy hand,  
Shalt dress their banks and bowers, until the Land  
Grow fertile as thy Fancy, for thy parts,  
Have made a conquest of a thousand hearts.  
H. Harris   

To his deserving Friend, Mr. Robert chamberlain upon his Swaggering Damsel.  
FRiend, when my Vessel from the narrow stage,  
Launched to this wider Ocean, where the rage  
Of madding Censure met her, Thou didst play  
The part of a skilled Pilot calmest the way:  
Nor envy with her strongest winds durst stir,  
Knowing (Skilled Navigator) thou guid'st her;  
I dare not boast, like Art, yet hope to prove  
Commended, since I strive to quit thy love  
In the acknowledgement, and offer these  
To thy Fair Damsel's welfare, may she please  
Those that have judging souls; and to the rest  
That hate dramatic Laws, as is your test  
Unto their faith, that's hateful, for they be  
Counted in show, not prove their purity:  
This glory for to suffer their dull rage,  
And be cried up the glory of the Stage.  
T. Rawlins.   

To his Deserving friend Mr. Robert chamberlain upon his Swaggering Damsel.  
YOur swaggering Damsel you most aptly Fit,  
To the sweet Harmony of Art, and Wit,  
Your Pen hath taught all women to begin,  
A new; yet civil way to Swagger in;  
Our natures you have changed, and men adore,  
The selfsame thing which they did hate before;  
A woman Cavellier, nor is your Muse,  
In forfeiting her modesty profuse;  
No debauched Scenes, nor such base mirth as we  
Place in the Scenes, of obscene Ribaldry,  
Pollutes they Pen, thy happy influence,  
Virgins may read with a safe innocence:  
And shall applaud thee as one borne to be,  
The sole restorer of their liberty.  
E. B·   

The Actors.  

SIr Timothy Testy; an old angry decayed Knight.  
Sir Plenteous Crambag, an old Usurer.  
Valentine Crambagge, Son to Sir Plenteous, and Lover of Sabina.  
Fairefaith, Kinsman to Valentine, and Lover of Mirabell.  
Sportlove, Friend to Valentine.  
Sabina. Daughters to Sir Timothy.  
Mirabell. Daughters to Sir Timothy.  
Betty, Waiting Maid to Sabina.  
Kate, Waiting Maid to Mirabell.  
Muchcraft, An Attorney.  
Budget, His man.  
Hilts, A blunt fellow, Servant to sir Timothy.  
Trash, Clown, and Servant to Valentine.  
Welt, His Wife, A Shoemaker, at whose house Valentine lay in the time of his disguise.  
Roger and Rowland, Servants to sir Plenteous.  
musicians.  
Officers.  
Boy.    

The Prologue.  
Fair stars attend this presence, Gentlemen,  
Our Author bids me bid ye welcome, than  
Our house bids welcome, I myself again,  
Well, then at once thrice welcome Gentlemen.  
But first, to you whose education brings  
Learning along with't for to judge of things;  
I speak, but what needs that, your natures such,  
That with nice Criticism it scorns to touch.  
Ladies for you, I read it in each front;  
You will, nay more, you must look fair upon't,  
howe'er, we hope, that all your smiles will be,  
Propitious to our labours, not that we,  
Forestall your judgements, or do beg applause,  
That's not our meaning, we have no such cause;  
Yet do believe, you will your Candours bring,  
Cause 'tis the Primrose of the author's Spring.   

THE SWAGGERING damsel. A comedy.  

Actus 1. Scena 1.  Enter Hiles, Roger, and Rowland; Roger with a Napkin on his sleeve, and a silver bowl in's hand. Rog. 
COme Hilts, one cup more.  Hilts, 
Not a drop, I know they have dined by this time, and if I should be out o'th' way, when my master comes, he would rail, that the noise of an Oyster wench would not be half so devilish.  Row. 
Come, come, one lusty dish now i'th' bottom o'th' cellar's worth all the rest—  Hilts. 
A way with your number 4. it makes rattle-bags and windmills in my guts, I cannot endure it.  Rog. 
Come, come, I warrant ye, it will not, prithee come.  Hilt. 
Not? Why I'm blown with't already like a Lancashire Bagpipe upon a May day; and besides, 'tis so weak, that a man cannot keep it alive while he throws it in's guts, when thou com'st 'to our house I'll give thee a cup of Beer will make thy nose cry twang Roger.  Row. 
Why, but ye do not keep such a house for all your jesting, do ye?  Hilts. 
Such a house, shalt come in a morning, and find the cellar a foot deep in March beer; here a black Jack, and there a flagon standing in't like steeples in a drowned city— there's housekeeping Roger.  Rog. 
I marry sir, there's a house well kept indeed.  Hilts. 
Nay sir, by this means we make my Master a better house keeper than ere his father or grandfather was before him; for where they were used to ride every day a Hawking and hunting, my Master keeps the house sometimes for two or three years together, and what's the cause? nothing but our mirth, our randans, our tarra tantaras— oh the only way in the world to make a gentleman a housekeeper.  Rog. 
Well, come, I must needs have our round about to thy Master's daughters; for dost hear Hilts, methought there was a little nodding and winking betwixt my young Master, Mr. Valentine Crambag, and Mistress Sabina, didst not perceive it Rowland?  Row. 
Yes marry did I, and t'other gentleman there his Kinsman methought now and then cast a sheep's eye towards Mistress Mirabell; go to, an old Ape has an old Eye, Roger.  Hilts. 
Why but Roger you are not such a Sillybrain, I hope to think that your young Master loves Mistress Sabina—  Rog. 
Nay, I me past thinking, for I do partly know it.  Hilts. 
How?  Rog. 
Why, 'tis neither impossible nor unlikely?  Hilts. 
I do not believe your young Master's such a stout fellow Roger.  Rog. 
Why pray?  Hilts. 
I mean, as to venture himself upon such a wild thing, I tell you sirs, your young Master, I confess is a pretty dapper young gentleman, but in respect of her he is but a Child, a shrimp, a Butterfly, a Chitterling, a Babble; in love with her quoth 'a? she's not one that cares for compliments, or will be won with cringes, or your tres-humble serviteur Madame; no no Roger; she is a Blade, a Spark, a Tear-coat; and he that carries her away, must mumble her, jumble her, rumble her, and tumble her, swagger, roar, and tear like a mad man; your young Master quoth 'a?— pish,  To them Valentine and Fairefaith. Rog. 
hushed, here come the gentlemen.  Val. 
Why stand you here? make sir Timothy Testies man welcome— go.  Hilts. 
It was a brave speech of your worship's sir.  Val. 
O x, Exit with Rog. and Row.  
The womb of Aetna's but a rock of ice,  
Compared unto those flames that rage within  
My bosom;  
I must enjoy, or else give end unto  
This mortal life by some untimely means.  Fair. 
Good stars forbid it sir;  
Come, come,  
Lull not your own destruction, nor unman  
yourself in doting on the outward frame  
Of an imperfect soul,  
Follow discretion's finger that will guide  
Your understanding and your mind to one,  
Whose person's virtues Temple;  
x think on't,  
Her qualities and yours will ne'er agree;  
Your civil nature ne'er will correspond  
With her wanton humours.  Val. 
It cannot be,  
There's nothing save a Deity can inhabit  
So glorious a mansion,  
Not love her, say ye? not have her;  
I hope my stars will never look so black,  
however yet my comforts this,  
If I cannot have her I can perish.  Fair. 
That case is desperate, when a man must needs  
Sink in a gulf, or split upon the rock;  
Know sir, I bear as good a mind  
To her fair sister Mirabell; but yet  
I check these passions fearing that she is  
Too like her sister, yet my flames do rise  
So high, that she takes notice on't; come  
Learn to forget her, for you must expect  
Nothing from her but scorn.  Val. 
That such a creature has so foul a soul,  
'Twill never pierce  
My understanding judgement, or belief;  
Her birth and education needs must purge  
Such grossness.  Fai. 
Sir be happy, hug your own fancy,  
May things prove well, I shall be glad to see't;  
Far be't from me to envy any good  
Betides a friend and kinsman. To them Sabina Mirabell.  
Peace, they're both come.  Val. 
Welcome fair one,  
Welcome I say, toth' arms of him that flies,  
All joys but those that in thy bosom lies.  Sab. 
My bosom? what d'ee you find there pray sir; you have a mind perhaps to my Jewel, if you will not hurt it, ye shall have it a while to play with, 'tis a pretty bright thing sir.  Val. 
Not so bright as your white bosom, Lady.  Sab. 
As how pray ye? what see you there?  Val. 
O no, the gods would frown if any mortal breath,  
should once profane that milky way,  
There's not a little in that lovely place,  
But does create a wonder:  
When Cupid's thirsty, and desires a sip,  
Of Nectar, than he runs unto thy lip,  
And for your hair, the brightness of it does  
Persuade my soul the very graces spun  
The golden twist.  Sab. 
Pray ye speak on sir, when ye have emptied your pockets you'll be quiet.  Val. 
Emptied my pockets?  Sab. 
Sir, these are but pocket compliments, run 'em over once, and then perhaps I shall talk with ye; remember where ye left, I would be loath to put ye out sir, my hair was golden twist, ye said, come, what of all this?  Val. 
This has inflamed my thoughts,  
Ensnared my soul, and made me vow  
A desperate destruction to myself,  
Except from you I have one gracious smile  
May style me servant;  
And for your father's mind,  
I know it jumps with our desires.  Sab. 
My father's mind? d'ee think his frosty beard,  
Can temper my affections,  
No, no,  
His precepts are too withered for my youth;  
Know sir,  
That I disdain those low-born worms  
That will be circumscribed by dotage  
In loves affairs: I scorn to be directed,  
I am myself sir, and my only soul  
Is my own will and humour:  
But pray whence come these words?  Val. 
From my deep passions.  Sab. 
Whence those passions.  Val. 
From your fair eyes, they  
Were the happy guiders of my soul,  
Unto this bower of wonder;  
They fired my heart  
Which burns, and will do in remorseless flames,  
Until from them I do receive a glance,  
May sweeten these my torments.  Sab. 
Not so loud I pray you, speak softly sir. They whisper.  Fair. 
Speak Mirabell,  
May I think a proud thought.  Mir. 
O by no means sir, they are great sins.  Fair. 
This of mine's a virtue.  Mir. 
What may it be sir?  Fair. 
Nothing Lady, but a presumptuous study to be yours.  Mir. 
Sir, you may speak what you please, but first  
Let it arrive my apprehension what  
Or how you mean, according to my skill,  
I will return my answer.  Fai. 
Only to be  
One of the number that do still attend  
Your pleasure's beck, and so be styled your servant.  Mir. 
Sir,  
My thoughts nor fortunes ever were so high,  
To keep a servant of that consequence,  
And 'tis my hope they never will, or shall be.  Fai. 
Break not a sacred oath, for I have sworn  
myself your servant: then for pities sake,  
Do not infringe my vow.  Mir. 
Well,  
Tendering your vow, Suppose I should admit  
yourself into my service, would ye strive,  
T' express the faith and diligence belongs  
Unto a servant.  Fair. 
My pleasure and delight should fix,  
On nothing more than to express,  
My faith and loyalty.  Mir. 
Well, I admit you into my service,  
But by the way you may perhaps observe  
Some passages betwixt a friend and me,  
As letters, tokens passages, or so;  
Which if ye do, take heed ye word it not,  
But still possess yourself with secrecy.  Fair. 
Betwixt a friend and you?— umph.  Mir. 
ne'er scratch your head about it, for you're now My servant.  Fair. 
I am, I've sworn it, and I will be so,  
But yet ye did not hear me swear myself,  
A servant to your friend— I'll none of that.  Mir. 
Your reason?  Fai. 
'tis love that makes me here present myself,  
And with myself to tender up my soul,  
Engaged by vows and oaths to wait upon  
No creature but yourself:  
Love is the spur that pricks me on to this,  
And love you know can brook no rivals.  Mir. 
Do you love and serve yourself?  Fai. 
You and myself I do.  Mir. 
yourself's the friend I mean, and this discourse  
Has been a true prospective glass, whereby  
To peep into your mind, which now I find  
Full fraught with sweetness, when I did desire,  
Ye would keep private what ye did observe,  
'Twas nothing else  
But to be secret to yourself and me;  
Sir, in a word, I do embrace your love.  Fair. 
Be not too prodigal of thy goodness sweet,  
Consider what a scarcity's of it now  
Ith' world.  Mir. 
Let this suffice sir,— I am yours.  Sab. 
Pray let me entreat ye to love yourself a little better than to spend all this breath to no purpose.  Val. 
Why then I'll take my leave, but first, let this snow white hand but deign to bless the unhallowed lips of your admiring Slave, that I may hence with gladness, and have cause to boast of something.  Sab. 
With all my heart sir; but I pray how long were you Doctor of the chair in the school of compliments?  Val. 
O they can never come from a dejected spirit. Kisses her hand.  Sab. 
Well, now I hope you are satisfied.  Val. 
I wish my heart could truly speak it.  Sab. 
Come, come, you are too importunate.  Val. 
O let not anger bend so smooth a brow,  
Not for the earth's hid mineral would I give  
The least occasion of a frown to thee,  
For if I should,  
I should perpetually abhorring myself  
Though not a word,  
Yet let me have one glance before I go,  
For nothing fair one speaks a lover's mind,  
So well as the eye,  Sab. 
They talk of women, but you are able to teach all the women in the world to talk much to little purpose, for aught I see; come I must tutor ye a little, I see that.  Val. 
Were I so happy to be your Pupil, I were a wonder to myself.  Fai. 
If it were so I think you would not be much troubled to make him untruss forsooth.  Val. 
For pities sake jest not at pities object:  
Little knowest thou the miseries of him,  
That has his amorous flames returned with scorn:  
Well, since 'tis thus, I will myself translate  
From this mortality, and embrace my Fate.  To them Sir Timothy Testy, Sir Plenteous Crambagge. Sir T. 
No further, no further, pray return.  Sir P. 
Good sir give me leave to bring you a little further.  Sir T. 
Pray ye, return, ye do but trouble yourself and me to no purpose, well, Sir Plenteous Crambag I thank ye.  Sir P. 
Farewell good sir Timothy Testy.  Sir T. 
Come girls, come— where's Hilts?— ha. Where is he?  Enter Hilts. 
Where are you sir, when ye should wait upon me?— ha, Where I say?  Hilts. 
I was but i'th' cellar, forsooth.  Sir. T. 
Ith' cellar forsooth? what business have you i'th' cellar for sooth? who should wait upon me the whilst? wherefore do I give you three pound a year, and a trencher-cloak?— ha?— well—  Sir P. 
Farewell sir Plenteous,  Sir P. 
Farewell good sir Timothy Testy. Exit sir Tim. cum suis. How does my x Fairefaith? how shall we squander away this afternoon, can you tell?  Fair. 
As you please sir.  Sir P. 
Come, I have a mighty mind to be merry, whatsoe'er the matter is.  Fai. 
I'm very glad of it sir.  Sir P. 
But I have always observed that when I am so extremely disposed to mirth, one vexation or other falls presently in the very nick.  Fair. 
It falls so sometimes sir.  Sir. P. 
Well come, what d'ye say gallants?  
My thoughts methinks are on a jocund pin,  
I am strained up to a mighty pleasant key, methinks.  Fai. 
What say you x Valentine?  Val. 
What ye please.  Sir P. 
Nay, I'm indifferent, my masters walk the fields.  
Go by Water, see a Play, or what ye will, 'tis  
All one to me, come what say you son,— speak?  
Which of these three, come, come, you are too sad;  
Say, what shall we do?  Val. 
What ye will sir, I confess I do sometimes Walk the fields, thinking to purge vexatious thoughts, but wheresoever I turn mine eye, something or other ministers occasion of fresh tortures: when I go by water, than the waves that tumble one in the other's neck, present to my fancy the multiplicity of distraction crowding in at the door of my thoughts, and for seeing a Play, I confess it a brave thing, both to feast the wit, and recreate the mind: but, I think I shall ere be long see myself act my own Tragedy.  Sir P. 
I told you x, this Sunny flash would have a storm;  
What's the matter son?— ha?—  
Why thus dejected?—  
Speak— x, what is the business?  
What ails my son?  Fa. 
No great hurt sir.  Sir P. 
Speak man, here's none but friends, unbreast yourself, What's the matter I say?  Val. 
Nothing, nothing sir, only a melancholy fit.  Sir P. 
Nothing? that's strange— x, how comes my son thus discontented? what would he have?  Fa. 
Sir, to stretch your patience no further than it will reach, 'tis a gentlewoman that he would have, a good lusty handsome gentlewoman.  Sir P. 
A gentlewoman? how d'ee mean a gentlewoman? What would he do with her x?  Fa. 
I cannot tell sir, he has a use for her it seems, he is in love with her, you may imagine now what he would do with her.  Sir P. 
How? in love with a gentlewoman?  
You are a forward boy indeed— I hope  
'Tis with one that hath a good portion, if not youth by  
Gold and silver, you and I shall not be friends— umph:  
In love quoth 'a? It is a thing x, I never yet knew  
What it was, and yet I'm three score and upwards.  Fa. 
Not sir,  
Were ye not in love with your Lady before ye married her?  Sir P. 
'tis true, I had a great deal of money with her.  Fa. 
More than your son's like to have with this gentlewoman I hear.  Sir P. 
Say ye so? how comes this about son?— ha? Is't possible?  Val. 
Sir,  
'tis not this transitory pelf,  
Nor all the trumpery the world cries up  
That I respect; no, I esteem a soul  
Sweetened with education;  
Let dung admirers idolise their bags;  
'tis not for man,  
In whom there dwells an immortality:  
I have made a choice,  
Not for such by respects, this creature is  
The pride and darling both of love and fame:  
Sir, know that I  
Scorn to dishonour my good stars so far,  
As to besmear my soul with trash,  
Or to profane Loves sacred rites for wealth.  Sir P. 
Come, come, tell not me of education, and I cannot tell what, I must have money, I cannot purchase land  
With education not I, neither with all your  
Philosophy, I tell you, I must have  
Money, and I will have money— but prithee x what is this  
Gentlewoman— ha?  Fa. 
A brave lusty bouncing Lass, I can el ye— what d'ee think of Mistress Sabina Testy, daughter to Sir Timothy Testy.  Sir P. 
What of her?  Fa. 
She is the goddess of your son's idolatry.  Sir P. 
she? Passion of my heart, son, couldst thou find nobody else to dote on but she? did I cark, and care, and watch, and toil and moil, and sweat for this— ha? have I endured a thousand millions of curses for exacting of forfeited bonds, and mortgaged lands for this? Sir Timothy Testy's daughter, quoth 'a? a wild slut, her father a decayed gentleman, and one that with riot and excess has cut so many collops out of his estate, that sometimes he is glad to keep his chamber, and gentily begin a course of physic two or three years together, Sir Timothy Testy's daughter quoth 'a?  Val. 
O my heart, methinks it tears in a thousand shivers, Mistress— father— friends, and all averse to my desires, be not so cruel Fates.  Sir P. 
Well, to be short, if sir Timothy can, or will, give a considerable portion, 'tis a match, if not, Pardona moy, good son, I will not have a brood of beggars in my house— not I.  Fa. 
Stay a little sir, the greatest matter you do not either know, or consider, were your consent the thing, that I think would not be much stood upon; but here comes the break neck of the business; the gentlewoman scorns him.  Sir P. 
How? scorn the Crambags? Sir, Be it known to all men by these presents, that there's ne'er a gentleman of 'em all but are now and then glad to be beholden to the Crambags; she scorn him? come x, I'll go talk with her father about it, but first I'll know her portion.  Exeunt sir Plen. and Fair. Val. 
'tis in vain, she cannot love, not? why can she not love? am I so vile a thing? no, I am not, what's the reason then? 'tis her immortal mind that wings her thoughts above my reach, there, there 'tis; what shall I do then? turn coward and suffer it; nay, what can I do— what? I can die—  
O ye fields of bliss,  
If ye contain a flowery grove of rest,  
Prepared for those that must needs die for love,  
Embrace my vows, and entertain that soul  
That flies for shelter to your sacred shades, Offers to draw.  
Come forth thou purge of melancholy,  
Rip up this lump of sadness, cut those chains,  
Wherewith my soul is linked to misery;  
— Stay,— come down proud thoughts,  
Consider well what ye attempt to do:  
Am I a sacrifice for such a wight?  
— O no, I'll then resolve to live,  
Although it be but to torment myself,  
And think that torment pleasure, cause 'tis she,  
For whom alone I suffer misery.   

Actus Secundus.  Enter sir Timothy Testy, sir Plenteous Crambagge. Sir T. 
PIsh, pray sir do not urge me, I'm a little busy.  Sir P. 
'tis but a word sir, and the matter ends.  Sir T. 
Words, or matter, I cannot hear it now I tell ye.  Sir P. 
'tis a concernment requires your serious intention, as much as mine sir.  Sir T. 
Sir, I do not use to step out of my humour, neither for my own sake, nor no man's else.  Sir P. 
'tis for your own profit and good, pray hear it sir.  Sir T. 
Well, let's here it then, let's hear it, but d'ee hear, be brief.  Sir P. 
Thus it is.  Sir T. 
Nay, come come, make an end, make an end.  Sir P. 
I have not begun yet sir.  Sir T. 
Prithee make an end I say.  Sir P. 
Well, than you shall hear the end: my son Valantine has a mind to make a conjunction copulative with your daughter Sabina.  Sir T. 
Speak in a plainer part of speech man, what d'ee mean?  Sir P. 
He has a mind to lie with her sir.  Sir T. 
I'll see him hanged first, except he marry her first.  Sir P. 
So he does intend sir, but you would not hear the beginning, which made me begin at the end.  Sir T. 
Well, come to th'point, what says my daughter too't?  Sir P. 
Rich Parents ne'er question that sir, they first wisely agree upon Portions, seal Writings, then marry the young couple, and afterwards, give 'em time to consider of that, if we may have your consent, I make no question of hers.  Sir T. 
Well, ye have it, ye have it.  Sir P. 
I thank ye sir, I shall make my son a glad man when I come home sir.  Sir T. 
Send 'em joy, come, is this all ye have to say?  Sir P. 
'tis all sir.  Sir T. 
Well, fare ye well.  Sir P. 
Stay sir, I had like to have forgot the main business.  Sir T. 
Puh, yet again, speak, speak come, what is't?  Sir P. 
I would desire to know sir what blessings you mean to bestow upon your daughter?  Sir T. 
Pish, d'ee think I'll be backward in these things? She shall have a thousand.  Sir P. 
'tis a fair portion sir.  Sir T. 
Have ye done now?  Sir P. 
I have done, I have done, heavens protect ye sir—  Sir T. 
A due, a due.  Sir P. 
— Good sir, but one word more, and then I have done.  Sir T. 
What again, what ails the man trow?  Sir P. 
Only this sir, I hope you'll pay the money upon the wedding day sir, will not ye?  Sir T. 
Money?— what money?  Sir P. 
The marriage money sir.  Sir T. 
What marriage money?  Sir P. 
The thousand pound.  Sir T. 
The thousand pound? what d'ee mean sir?  Sir P. 
Did you not say but now you would give a thousand pound with her?  Sir T. 
I told you I would give her a thousand blessings; passion of my heart, a thousand pound quoth 'a? sir I scorn it; ye have abused me to think so, let those scraping curmudgeons, that for the most part beget cripples and idiots like themselves, I say, let those do't I tell ye; on the wedding day, as I said, I'll give her a thousand blessings with all my heart.  Sir P. 
And ne'er a penny of money?  Sir. 
Not a penny.  Sir P. 
What? Not with your own child?  Sir T. 
Not a Denier, not one Denier:  Sir P. 
Why then give me leave to tell ye, your resolution is unworthy, nay, 'tis scurvy.  Sir T. 
How scurvy? and in my own house too?  Sir P. 
Ay scurvy, and I must tell ye, argues no better than a beggarly disposition.  Sir T. 
Beggarly disposition? O baseness itself.  Sir P. 
Base, I ne'er stood yet sir with my cap in my hand to a Scrivener for the procuring of ten pounds upon my own bond.  Sir T. 
How? I stand with my cap in my hand ye rascal? when? when? how? to whom? I stand with my cap in my hand?— I defy thee. Enter Hilts .I stand with my cap in my hand?  Hilts. 
How now? what d'ee affront my master in's own house sir, pray avoid.  Sir T. 
Out of my house ye dunghill, ye dirt, ye spawn of ten i'th' hundred.  Hilts. 
Come, come sir, let's see your back, or your worship's pate feel the weight of my cudgel.  Sir T. 
Out ye villain.  Sir P. 
Very well sir. Exit sir Plenteous.  Sir T. 
A slave abuse me thus, and in my own house too.  Hil. 
Come sir, do not trouble yourself, he's gone now  Sir T. 
A Sirrah, an old Pancridge.  Hilts. 
Nay I see you are bell mettle sir if you're angered once.  Sir T. 
Angry? 'twas well thou cam'st in, for in my conscience I had killed the rogue else. Enter Sabina, Mirable .Whoreson dogbolt affront me thus.  Sab. 
What's the matter Hilts, who has vexed my father thus  Sir T. 
Old Crambag forsooth, has been here and so abused me as I was never abused since I peeped into the world, and what's the reason forsooth, because his son and heir's in love with you forsooth, and intends to make you his bride forsooth, therefore must I give t'him a thousand pound forsooth, but I'll see him hanged for a sign at's own door first; the truth is daughter, his son is a pretty gentleman, but here's the thing, his son, as I perceive is mad in love, and for aught I see, rather than fail, he will give me a thousand pound for my consent, were not I an Ass than Hilts, to give a man a thousand pound to marry my daughter; when the same man rather than go without her will give it me? were not I a Buzzard then I say?  Hilts. 
A man would think so sir.  Sir T. 
Why shod I do it— ha? give me but a why, and I'm satisfied?  Hilts. 
In troth sir I cannot give you any great reason, unless your purse were sick of a Pleurisy which I cud ne'er find yet.  Sir. T. 
Well, for the business of marriage, use your own mind daughter, I cannot tell, perhaps the old cur may leave him an estate— Well, once trouble not me, and do your pleasure, but if you talk of money, I shall be angry, come along Hilts. Exit sir T.  Hilts. 
This young gentleman, a nimble spark I see, that I did not think the young colt would have been leaping so quickly— therefore do you hamper him as soon as ye can, d'ee hear.  Within. 
Come away Hilts.  Hilts. 
I'm coming and please your worship. Exit Hil.  Sab. 
Advise me in this dangerous maze to steer a safe course.  Mir. 
Ye are in a fair way to do yourself a great deal of good, keep yourself in't sister, the gentleman's a great heir, sweetly behaved, bravely discoursed, and besides, a proper handsome complete gentleman, what can you desire more sister?  Sab. 
Sister, I love the gentleman, at first, I confess, I did a little sleight him, but my second thoughts framed a recantation which my intentions have directed to salute him speedily.  Mir. 
A way with it sister, give it not a minute's more entertainment for a world, send it immediately.  Sab. 
Come, I'll dispatch it instantly.  Mir. 
Be certain ye do sister. Exeunt Sab. Mir.  Enter Valentine, Fairefaith, Sportlove, Trash. Val. 
— umph,  
And was I borne to the sport of Fate,  
Cud not the destinies as well have said  
Be happy  
— inexorable stars,  
Had ye but doomed me to have trod the paths  
Of dreadful banishment never to return,  
T'had been a heaven in respect of this  
— But 'tis in vain,  
Upon the statutes of the stars to plain;  
I must even rush upon some desperate death,  
And there's an end.  Fa. 
Heavens forbid sir.  Val. 
There's no remedy, her loves impossible.  Sport. 
Impossible? why d'ee think the world contains a creature cannot be won.  Val. 
Yes indeed?  Sport. 
You might as well have told me, that he that has a Puritanical wife cannot be a cuckold sir; take this from me, there's not the bravest gallant that e'er went naked to the middle, but a handsome man, good clothes, language, and money will bring her under the see, I warrant ye.  Fa. 
Sir, methinks it were not a miss if you did cast your eye upon some other, the world is wide and populous, and now and then to look asquint, would be a good way to assuage the violence of your passion.  Val. 
O no, she— she is the blazing star where on I gaze, and the little world of beauty which I admire.  Tr. 
O brave Master— there was a speech; O Master Sportlove, this learning's a dainty matter— d'ee hear sir, shall I go and tell her what ye say?—  Sport. 
You cannot come again time enough, let it alone.  Tr. 
I warrant ye sir. Exit Trash.  Fa. 
Come, Try her again sir, ye cannot tell, drops of rain may pierce an Adamant.  Spo. 
That's with often falling upon't sir, if he cud but learn that, she would love him presently.  Fa. 
Push, away with these fruitless passions, be yourself once again.  Spo. 
That cannot be sir, you must consider he is in love.  Fa. 
Why, cannot a man be in love, and yet be himself too?  Spo. 
He may be, but 'tis raro aut nunquam, jealousy in a woman, love in a man, and tooth ache in a dog, are three of the most dangerous things I can tell ye, that are incident to mortals. Enter Trash.  Tr. 
Nay, I'm come again gentlemen.  Spo. 
What already, and done your errand too?  Tr. 
O rarely, sir, I had it as perfect—  Val. 
Sirrah, what did ye tell her? you are so officious.  Fr. 
I told her sir, that your worship said, she was the staring blaze whereon you gazed, and the world of little beauty which you admired.  Val. 
Out ye rogue, ye small knowing rascal, thou hast undone me; did I tell ye so? dost thou go and turn my words backwards, ye villain. Falls upon him.  Tr. 
Gentlemen, if I cud run away from him, I would not be beholden to ye, for shame, do not stand still and see a man killed.  Fa. 
It was but a mistake sir, pray pardon him.  Tr. 
'twas nothing sir, but only the wrong end came out first, the gentlewoman understood it well enough.  Spo. 
Come, pray ye sir have patience.  Val. 
I must kill the rogue, for he will never have wit.  Tr. 
Forbid that sir, if men should be killed for want of wit, I had been a Masterless coxcomb long ago sir, but 'tis no matter, you may use me at your pleasure.  Sp. 
Come, come, all's well, all's well.  Tr. 
I that's true indeed, when I'm beaten once, then all's well still.  Fa. 
But Mr. Sportlove, nothing but this gentlewoman troubles me, that she should be so fair, so young, so handsome, and yet cannot love— methinks 'tis strange.  Spo. 
It may be she feeds upon preserved snow, which if she do, she'll seldom have a warm thought, I can tell ye,  Fa. 
Nay, her diet's good I'll assure ye, for she will constantly have a breakfast of Oringoes, a dinner of Potatoes, a Sack posset to supper, and so goes to bed.  Tr. 
If she feed thus, 'tis impossible for the poor gentlewoman to hold out long.  Enter Betty with a Letter. Val. 
Fellow servant, how fares our Mistress?  Tr. 
Ye were told but just now, were not ye?  Bett. 
This Letter was commanded first to kiss your hand, and then inform ye.  Val. 
To the gentle hand of her dearest Valentine address these.  
The Letter.  
Val. Sir, I hope by this time your good nature has granted a pardon for my seeming rashness, which proceeded not from a mind fraught with disdain, but grounded on a resolution to be your servant, th'old man's not yet in bed, but half an hour's forbearance locks him up in slumber; about which time my ambition is to see you at my chamber, where my servant shall attend to give you access to,  
Your respective handmaid, Sabina Testy.  Tr. 
Now sir you would run into the fire, and drown yourself, would ye? what d'ee think of me now sir, did I not do my errant bravely sir, did not I?  Val. 
Thou hast done ingeniously, and I will study correspondent gratitude.  Tr. 
Nay, pray sir, I had as lief you did beat me again, as give me hard words forsooth, I cannot endure 'em.  Val. 
O how precious are those minutes wherein are wrapped unexpected joys, sweet piece of paper; fair was that star under whose influence thou wert made— O this half hour's forbearance, pardon sweet heart, passion had almost made me forget a due respect. Kisses her.  Tr. 
Pray sir do not charge your memory with these things, leave 'em to me sir.  Val. 
To you sir, wherefore?  Tr. 
Because she is the Sugar-plum— of my affection's sir.  Val. 
Cry ye mercy, farewell pretty Duck; tell your Mistress I will fly like time, till I have blessed these eyes with the sight of her. Exit Betty.  Fai. 
x, you're now in a progress towards the gentlewoman, take a little of my advice along with ye— having now the advantage of a fair opportunity, try her every way, you know my meaning, and then as you find her disposed, you may better dispose of your affections.  Spo. 
Sir, were it in my case, I tell ye in plain terms, I would promise her a thousand things, and it may be for a night's lodging, I would vow'em and swear 'em too; but when I had once satisfied my purposes, I would show her a fair pair of heels, and there's an end.  Tr. 
Spoke like a gentleman, I'll assure ye sir.  Val. 
'tis easy sporting where no pain is felt,  
Come, come, let's go.  Fai. 
We attend your pleasure sir, for I perceive you long to be where your mind is.  Tr. 
A lack aday, you must consider sir every thing would live.  Val. 
Sweet, I come. Exit Val. Fai.  Spo. 
Didst ever see a passion so transport a man, heavens bless his wits.  Tr. 
'twas a good prayer sir, but he must have 'em first.  Exeunt Spo. Trash. Enter Sabina, Betty. Sab. 
What said he Betty when he read the Letter.  Bett, 
He was so ravished with joy, that I think he knew not what he said forsooth, and for the letter, he did so cull it, and lull it, and clip it, and hug it, and buss it— O me Mistress, this love—  Sab. 
'tis a pretty pleasant vexation; but did he say he would come?  Bett. 
He told me he would come with all speed, and that he should think every minute a hundred years till he saw ye, with many other pretty words which I cannot repeat for sooth.  Sab. 
I shall be extreme melancholy till I see him; but are you sure he did say he would come?  Bett. 
Very certain, forsooth.  Sab. 
How long d'ee think it will be first?  Bett. 
Your own appointment was half an hour, but for aught I saw, he was resolved not to forbear so long forsooth.  Sab. 
Prithee Betty help me to cozen the time a little with some pretty love Song.  Bett. 
That will but make ye the more melancholy forsooth.  Sab. 
Though it do, yet methinks I love it dearly.  Bett. 
methought ye said ye were afraid of being melancholy but now forsooth?  Sab. 
I did so, and so I am, and yet I love it.  Bett. 
I had heard 'em say forsooth, that melancholy people are like Spaniels.  Sab. 
Why prithee?  Bets. 
They say a Spaniel, the more a man beats him the more he fawns upon him; so melancholy people, methinks, the more the humour torments 'em the more they love it.  Sab. 
'tis very true, come reach me my Lute— prithee sing Betty.  

A Song.  
BE not so cruel fairest Boy,  
But unstring thy golden bow,  
In love we must expect no joy,  
Nothing there but sorrow's flow;  
If thy flaming arrow did  
But touch, yet it still appears,  
We must for ever after bid  
Farewell joy, and welcome tears;  
Tell us, then tell us where doth grow,  
The herb that cures the wounded eye,  
Else we must cry alas and woe,  
There's no such herb that grows, and die.   Sab. 
'twas well sung.  Bett. 
No indeed forsooth my voice is quite gone, Chambermaids have occasion you know forsooth now and then to sit up in the nights when they have business to do, and that spoils a Maid's voice quickly forsooth— they knock.  Sab. 
They're come I vow, run to the door.  She runs to door and lets them in. Enter Valentine, Fairefaith, Sportlove, Trash the three Gentlemen salute Sabina. Tr. 
My little Tewxbury mustard, how does thou do?  Bett. 
Mustard? why mustard, pray ye?  Tr. 
Because I never come near thee, but thou makes my very eyes water.  Fai. 
Sir, 'tis fit we now withdraw; the darkness of the night persuaded our attendance, now common civility requires our absence— pleasures attend your proceedings sir.  Spo. 
Sweet night embrace ye sir.  Val. 
Thanks noble sir, peace conduct ye.  Exeunt Fair. Sport. Betty. Tr. 
Well now your worships pleased I hope— but stay, Where's Betty?  Sab. 
She's gone out with the gentlemen.  Tr. 
Gone out with the gentlemen quoth 'a? and I stand here.  Exit Trash. Val. 
Your courteous invitation makes some recompense for the late scorn with which you did slight my honest zeal.  Sab. 
I do acknowledge sir  
The error of my rashness, and beg pardon,  
I have informed my judgement better since;  
And you appear to my opinion  
More acceptable far than when you first  
Presented your desires with yourself,  
That now shall want no fitting entertainment  
To satisfy the first neglect.  Val. 
I cannot deny, but that it made 〈…〉  
Of some sad thoughts within me, but I 〈…〉  
A little rectified, consideration  
Hath almost cured my passions, and my fire  
Of love is some what abated.  Sab. 
The few hours  
Are added to my age, since you last saw me,  
Have made no wrinkles yet upon that beauty,  
To which you then did give large attributes,  
And to be cold so soon, argues 'twas only  
Your flattery and courtship.  Val. 
Not so Lady,  
I ne'er dissembled any false intents,  
My words were the true characters of my thoughts,  
Only your scorn,— there 'tis.  Sab. 
Sir I am altered much  
From that bad humour, and my heart hath ta'en  
A flame into it from the observation  
Of your complete deservings, and is ready  
To answer your desires.  Val. 
You engage me  
To a due gratitude, but I have settled  
New resolutions.  Sab. 
Sir, ye are now revengeful,  
And punish scorn with scorn; a gentle nature  
Would not deny a reconciliation  
Upon such terms; but you suspect my freeness.  
I blush to think on't, and am sorry sir,  
The offer of myself is no more valued,  
Than thus to be refused, straight my servant  
Shall be your guide, and so I wish sweet peace  
To your fair thoughts. She offers to go, he brings her back.  Val. 
They are the fairer, Lady,  
In that they have called back your fairest self  
To be their object.  Sab. 
Call not back your humour  
To flatter me.  Val. 
By my best hopes I do not;  
A saint's devotion 〈…〉 earnester,  
Or more free from hypocrisy hypocrisy than my love:  
I own not a desire but what is yours;  
And if again you chide my forward zeal,  
My danger will be more in the relapse,  
Than in the first disease which you have cured;  
In steed of healing Balms, apply no Corrasives  
To my sick heart, but gently entertain  
My second motions, for next to Eternity  
You are my happiness.  Sab. 
You did intimate  
That you had fixed upon some other beauty,  
From whose pure excellence, a brighter flame  
Is shot, than my dull eyes can sparkle forth;  
If it be so I shall not envy it.  Val. 
Your error  
Was a just motive I confess, but when  
I said I had settled new resolutions,  
I did but dissemble, which pray pardon first,  
And then receive me to your fair opinion,  
By all the sacred powers, religious mortals  
Invoke to make an oath of power to force  
Belief, you only must be she,  
Or none; in whose blessed union I shall joy,  
And satisfy my kindred's expectation  
Of issue.  Sab. 
Urge no more,  
My Faith takes all for truth, and in exchange  
Of your dear self, delivers up myself as freely.  Val. 
This blessed minute doth deserve  
A note in times large register.  Sab. 
Tomorrow  
Let it have public motion 'fore our friends;  
And when you please the consummation  
Of our full joys shall follow: dear, farewell,  
I must to bed.  Val. 
I will go with ye sweet—  Sab. 
Forbid ye chaste directors of my soul,  
Desire should be so forward ere the Ceremonies  
Confirm it lawful.  Val. 
Why should we be nice,  
And stand upon the outside of our actions  
More than the substance, though we should anticipate  
Those pleasures, since our vows are past we need not  
Have scruple, they'll beget a second doubt,  
And make the earnestness of love suspected.  Sab. 
O fie upon't sir, do not cloud your virtue  
With such a stain, you're lovely to me yet,  
And shall be whilst you're faithful— I'll to bed  
And wish you rest.  Val. 
Good night.  Sab. 
Are ye a man?  
And would not take  
A better leave of me? Exit Sabina looking back.  Val. 
How looking back, and leaving open the door,  
I'll leave you such an earnest, if I can  
Prevail, that you shall swear I am a man.  Exit after her.  

Actus Tertius.  Enter Fairefaith, Sportlove, and Trash. Fai. 
MY x Valentine not yet returned, say ye?  Spo. 
Not yet indeed sir.  Fai. 
What d'ee think should be the reason?  Spo. 
'tis not revealed to me sir; but I think he prevailed with his Mistress for a night's lodging, and that may be the cause of his long stay.  Tr. 
He has stayed something long indeed, but— I believe he will come home very shortly forsooth.  Fai. 
I confess I long to be acquainted with the issue of his enterprise.  Enter Valentine, Betty, Trash runs to him. Tr. 
Oh my sweet Master's come again.  Val. 
I am so.  Tr. 
And you are even as welcome sir, as ever poor Master was to a servant.  Val. 
— Pray sweet heart return, let not me trouble ye.  Bett. 
No trouble sir,— if you have any other commands T' impose, I shall joy t'observe 'em.  Val. 
Not I sweet heart, only fare ye well. Exit Betty.  Tr. 
O my sweet honeysuckle, art thou gone already.  Val. 
Good stars, gentlemen.  Fai. 
Fair morning to my sweet x, we hope health betides your Mistress, and do now expect to be gladded with the news of a fair progress to the end of your desires.  Val. 
The end of my desires is even the desire of my end, for I have no joy on earth.  Fai. 
What again in these perplexities, whence come these clouds of discontent now?— ye took no joy before because ye had no hope t'enjoy her, in whom ye had placed all your hopes and joys, the cause of that distempers removed, what may occasion this— heavens know.  Spo. 
Ye cannot tell sir, perhaps the letter was dissembled, and she in some idle humour might send for him to abuse him.  Val. 
O x Fairefaith, this gentlewoman—  Fai. 
What? cannot she love yet?  Val. 
Yes— love? O yes.  Fai. 
Whence rise these distractions then?  Val. 
Even from her love.  Fai. 
How? can neither frowns nor smiles give ye satisfaction, 'tis some what strange, two mere contraries should produce the very same effect.  Val. 
She has with love undone herself and me.  Spo. 
There's some mystery in't without question.  Fai. 
I pray sir untie these knotty expressions, for I cannot.  Val. 
To be too prodigal of that, which once lost, the whole world cannot recover— weakness intolerable Admit I urged her,  
I'd thought the treasures not of earth or sea  
Cud have persuaded such a brave borne mind,  
Unto the pleasures of forbidden sheets.  Fai. 
O sir, is the wind in that corner now?  Spo. 
What d'ee think of my opinion now sir.  Val. 
O x Fairefaith, had I been a woman—  Tr. 
You would have been an arrant whore in my conscience. Aside.  Val. 
I say, if I had been a woman x,  
Armies of Virgin resolutions should  
Have still environed me:  
O misery!  
Had she been cautious in preserving that,  
That rien of immortality her honour;  
Earth had not carried such a Paragon;  
But now  
Her outward frame sets but the blacker die  
Upon her mind's deformity; I'm now resolved  
To hate those very thoughts that pitch upon  
So pure a piece of impurity.  Tr. 
Puh, what needs all this stir Master, suppose ye have found her to want a grain or two, do but consider of it, 'tis nothing amongst friends; alack a day sir, the Goldsmith himself may be cozened with a light piece, an't shall please your worship.  Fai. 
But will not ye visit her again?  Val. 
Never— never.  Spo. 
Nor send to her?  Val. 
No, neither myself, nor any one depends on me shall ere come there again.  Tr. 
O poor Betty, I shall ne'er see thee again, I perceive that.  Val. 
Come x, I must be gone.  Fai. 
Sir, I shall entreat to be excused,  
I have engaged myself to meet a friend,  
Which will expect me here immediately.  
Farewell x. Exeunt Val. Sport. Trash.  Trash turn, again Tr. 
d'ee hear sir?  Fai. 
Come, what say you?  Tr. 
I have a strange thing come just now into my head sir, and that's this sir; there's Newgate for Thieves, Bridewell for Whores, and Bedlam for mad-folks, yet among all these I do wonder there's ne'er a place for fools.  Fai. 
'Twere a charitable foundation had a man means to do't with, your Master has an estate, and might do well to think of such a thing.  Tr. 
Ye say right sir indeed; charity should begin at home, that's the truth on't— but let me tell ye sir, this gentlewoman does a little trouble my scull for all that.  Fai. 
What a capcase were I in, if her sister should be of the same stamp, what would the world say, what would men think?  Tr. 
What?— they would think ye were borne when the sign was either in Aries, Taurus, or Capricorn, that's all they would think for aught I know, and so fare ye well. Exit Trash.  Fair. 
Children and fools tell truth, well  
If't be my fate, there's no remedy,  
Nor friend to fly unto in such a case  
But honest patience. Enter Mirabell.  
Stay, here she comes, I'll see,  
If in her carriage I can read my fortune  
— What my Mirabell— unexpected happiness.  Mir. 
How d'ee sir?  Fai. 
Better then I was.  Mir. 
Why? were ye sick sir?  Fai. 
Suppose I had been, or am, your presence would beget a health immediately, I confess I was not even now so well as now I am, because I wanted thee which now I have sweetest.  Mir. 
I should be loath to be found wanting, when your occasions call upon my service sir.  Fai. 
Sweetly spoken fair Mirabell,  
But hear me,  
Admit I had a strange occasion now  
To try thy bosom, wouldst thou be content  
To run a hazard that might manifest  
Thy love and loyalty?  Mir 
There's not a danger in the world can be  
So dreadful to my thoughts, but I would run  
T'embrace it for the pleasure of my love;  
But pray sir, what mean these doubts?  Fai. 
Nothing fair one, only a conceit.  Mir. 
May it concern me sir.  Fai. 
Yes— 'tis but a thing incident to all your Sex.  Mir. 
Please you t' unlock your mind sir,  
I'll study what I can to purge your thoughts.  Fai. 
'tis only this— I fear you are too coy,  
That's all my fear, too coy Mirabell, too coy,  Mir. 
coyness! O heavens! 'tis the only object of my scorn sir,  
I do not think there's such a thing i'th' world,  
Or that kind nature  
Was e'er the mother of so vile a monster;  
Were I persuaded that my veins contained,  
But the least dram of such a peevish humour,  
Though't kept my heart alive I'd rinse it out;  
In a word I disdain it.  Fai. 
My hopes say you do.  Mir. 
Sir, if you please,  
Put your invention to the rack,  
Till it find out some strange device to try  
Whether I'm coy or no;  
Breath but a syllable, and it straight commands  
The mind or person to serve  
Your pleasures.  Fai. 
There's not a tittle of a word in this,  
But has its choir of harmony;  
But why do I defer so great a bliss?  
Come, let love embraces crown our sweet desires.  Mir. 
What d'ee mean sir?  Fai. 
Only a gentle taste of love's delicious sweets.  Mir. 
What, before we marry?  Fair. 
Yes.  Mir. 
Your reason.  Fai. 
O it puts life into a patient expectation— come.  Mir. 
Pray forbear sir.  Fai. 
How? forbear?  
What's become of this present minutes protestations.  Mir. 
I never dreamed that you  
Had ever sullied your well tutored soul  
With such a vile intention.  Fai. 
Come, come, where twining hearts unite  
What need these scruples?  Mir. 
Sir,  
Stain not your breast with such ignoble thoughts,  
'tis true—  
I scorn proud coyness, but I do abhor  
To think of this.  Fai. 
O that those eyes  
Should be the portals to a heart of flint,  
I cannot endure it;  
Come, come, I must needs satisfy my flames.  
Therefore no more excuse.  Mir. 
Sir, ye have uttered words  
Do breathe an air would kill a Basilisk;  
Call ye this love?  
'Tis rather treason 'gainst love's Majesty:  
Will you pretend t'express a love to me,  
And yet speak ruin to my reputation;  
Banish these thoughts, or else for ever be  
A detestation to my bosom.  Fai. 
Dwell in thy goodness, gentle love;  
'Twas not to please a wanton appetite,  
Or spot thy shrine of Virgin purity  
That I have spoke;  
No it was only but to try the strength  
Of thy resolves in goodness, what before  
I did but love, I now admire;  
But—  
If like thy sister thou hadst swerved a jot,  
From that integrity wherewith I see  
Thy mind is fortified, I should have cut  
Thee off from my acquaintance.  Mir. 
How's this? if like my sister, say ye?  
What has she done, pray ye?  Fai. 
No great hurt forsooth.  Mir. 
If ye love me tell me sir.  Fai. 
Now ye conjure me, I will. My x Valentine Crambagge that was so in love with her, it seems he prevailed with her a little too much, to give it ye in plain terms he has lain with her, glutted himself with the sweet spoils of her virginity, and now for aught I hear by the virtue of hocus-pocus, my gentleman's gone.  Mir. 
Accursed fate, Sabina thus dishonoured,  
And by thy kinsman?  
I fear too much of that detested blood  
Flows in thy veins, henceforth I'll not converse  
Either with thee or any other man  
That is of kindred to him, pray ye be gone,  
Your presence turns my very stomach up,  
Take't as ye please, I must for e'er discard ye.  Fair. 
Displeased with me for his faults?  Mir. 
'tis all one, speak not— reply not— your sentence Is this— fare ye well.  Fai. 
I obey it— Exit Fairefaith.  Mir. 
It has been still observed since time begun  
That sweetest natures still are soonest won,  
This is the fate that usually attends  
Best dispositions:  
Poor women! into how many fools paradises are we daily brought by these wicked men!  Enter Sir Timothy. 
Ah poor sister.  Sir T. 
How now, what ails your sister now?  Mir. 
Nothing forsooth.  Sir T. 
What does the wedding hold or no?— ha?  Mir. 
she's wedded already sir.  Sir T. 
How? and I not know on't? what a forward saucy girl's this?  
But is she married indeed?  Mir. 
Yes, to misery, shame, and infamy.  Sir T. 
What's the matter girl?— ha?— speak— what's the matter?  Mir. 
He that pretended so much love to her, I mean young Crambag.  Sir T. 
Ay— what of him?— ha? what's the business I say?  Mir. 
O Sister, sister!  Sir T. 
Daughter, I charge ye tell me what the matter is, what of young Crambagge?  Mir. 
He— that villain has by smooth words wrought upon her gentle nature, to her perpetual dishonour; to tell ye the plain truth sir, he has lain with her, published it abroad to her disgrace, and is now fled.  Sir T. 
— umph— lain with her?— and fled?  
Is there no thunder left above the sky?  
Is jove grown deaf? or has he sworn to lie  
asleep, and thus forget the earth? Enter Trash.  
What's your business sirrah?  Tr. 
Sir, my Master sent me to your worship, to tell your worship, that your worship needs not trouble yourself about your daughter's portion, for his minds altered, and he bid tell your worship that he would entreat your worship to have patience.  Sir T. 
Sirrah, your Master's a rascal, and you are another.  Tr. 
O by no means, and please your worship.  Sir. T. 
O Mirabell, methought I had a good opinion of him, he had so civilised her, and methought had brought her to be the best natured girl:  
Merciless fate,  
My passive fortitude wherewith I once  
Outfaced misfortune now is fled and gone,  
My daughter thus disgraced?  
What's the reason I knew't no sooner?  Mir. 
It comes too soon whensoever sir;  
The messenger has heels of lead that brings  
Good news, but ill news fly with Eagles wings.  Sir T. 
Stand fast ye weak supporters of my age  
Henceforth my hand be pillow to my head,  
O my perplexed soul!  
Cud I but leap now from some rocky top,  
Into the plunging swallow of the sea,  
'Twould be some ease,  
Fetch her Mirabell, fetch her, Exit Mirabell.  
Alas I little dreamed of this.  Tr. 
Your worship might have dreamed on't, for to my knowledge your worship was asleep in your bed when the business was done.  Sir T. 
O that I had the rogue by the ears.  Tr. 
ay but he does not desire to give ear to ye.  Enter Mirabell, with Sabina very pensive Sir T. 
Out ye strumpet, ye whore, does thou play the whore and look me in the face? hast thou played the baggage? hast thou played the whore?— Ha? Out of my sight ye quean, get ye out. Exit Sabina.  
O Mirabell is there no stones, nor water, fire nor sword to be revenged with— Ha? Enter Hilts .Come Sir, you keep a fine order here, I appoint you to over see my house, and you let gentlemen come in and lie revelling here all the night, you are a trusty Trojan you.  Hilts. 
'tis more than I know Sir, 'tis the first time I heard on't, if I had seen the saucy rascals I would have sent 'em further with a vengeance.  Sir T. 
Abominable— thus to disgrace herself and me, where is she, did not I bid ye fetch her?  Mir. 
She has been here Sir, and you sent her out again.  Sir T. 
Has she? I know not, these distractions do so confound me, that I forget the last minute: O daughter Mirabell what should I do?  Tr. 
methinks your worship should keep always a rope about your house against such a desperate case as this is.  Sir T. 
Hilts take that rogue, and d'ee hear, deliver him from me to the keeper of Bridewell— take him away I say.  Hilts. 
Come Sir come, are ye come hither to jeer?  Tr. 
No Sir, I did not jeer Sir.  Sir T. 
Take him away I say.  Hilts. 
Come along come.  Tr. 
Master Hilts, your master does but jest man.  Sir T. 
Sir your master has abused my house, and I'll make him smart for't.  Tr. 
'tis like enough and please your worship, but shall I be punished for the wickedness of my Master's Codpiece, and please your worship, no no.  Sir T. 
Carry him away I say.  Tr. 
Your worship's a merry Gentleman, you love to make sport I see that.  Sir T. 
Hilts, I bid you once more carry him away, what d'ee think to laugh me out of my resolutions?  Hilts, 
Come your way's sirrah.  Tr. 
Hilts is in sober sadness and please your worship.  Sir T. 
So am I too sirrah, carry him I say—  Hilts. 
Was thou mad to talk thus to a justice of Peace, a justice of Corum horum rotulorum? 'tis as much as thy life's worth.  Sir T. 
A prating saucy rascal; carry him away.  Tr. 
I beseech your worship forgive me, good your worship.  Sir T. 
Carry him away I say.  Tr. 
Good your worship forgive me, I beseech your worship.  Sir T. 
Well, let him go for this time, get ye gone sirrah.  Tr. 
Yes and shall please your worship— gone quoth 'a? I'll see your worship hanged before I'll come near ye again.  Exit Trash. Sir T. 
O Hilts, this wicked fellow has undone us.  Hilts. 
Who d'ee mean sir? Mr. Crambagge?  Sir T. 
The same.  Hilts. 
What has he done sir?  Sir T. 
What? my cheeks would burn to speak it, uncontrollable fates— is there no pity in your votes.  Hilts. 
Well, if I once meet with him—  Sir T. 
What then?  Hilts. 
I'd make him an example to all the young lads in England, I would fustinado the carcase of him till the limbs of the rogue flew one from another, and then I would beat 'em together again.  Sir T. 
No, no, if we should hurt him Hilts, the Law would be of his side.  Hilts. 
Hurt him, no forsooth, I would only bestow a little timber upon the shoulders of him.  Sir T. 
Pish, pish, come, go your ways to my x Muchcraft the Attorney, tell him I'm coming to him for his advice; in the mean time do you put the Case to him for coming into the house at an unseasonable time of the night, go your ways, I'll be with ye presently.  Exeunt Sir Tim. and Mir. at one door, Hilts at another. Enter Valentine and Fairefaith. Fai. 
Your father's coming after us here.  Val. 
Where is he? Enter Sir Plent.  Sir P. 
O son— I have been so abused— nay, and a hundred to one but I had been soundly basted too, and all this to please thee.  Fair. 
As how pray sir?  Sir P. 
I went to treat with sir Timothy about the marriage, and because I stood upon a portion, old Testy was pleased to call me a thousand rascals; and in the heat of the business (O my arms!) comes me in that same great horse-boned Hilts, and so shakes me; well son, I'll even walk in, if anybody come to pay money tell 'em I'm within, if they come for money, tell 'em I'm not well, for this fellow has so bruised my arms that I'm not able to tell it; d'ee hear what I say, to ye son? Exit Valentine saying nothing as displeased .Nay lower and pout till Doomsday, 'tis all one, I will have money before I give my consent, come, come, tell me no more tales— love quoth 'a? If I had married for love x, I had been a rogue, a fool, a beggar; no, no son, I must have money, and I will have money.  Fai. 
Sir, the last night your son went to see his Mistress, and prevailed so far with her, that to tell you the naked truth, they lay together all night; he perceiving her so easily won to wantonness, and fearing hereafter she might be a little too liberal of her entertainment, has cast her quite off now fears your displeasure for his too much forwardness, and that's the cause of his sadness.  Sir P. 
How? lay with her— 'tis not possible.  Fai. 
Not for a gentleman to lie with a handsome wench, why, 'tis one of the possiblest things that can be sir.  Sio P. 
I'm sorry to hear it x, but I'm glad he has put her off, a company of rascals, they are served well enough, I warrant ye, the poor boy hearing how her father had abused me, cud not find in's heart to love her a jot longer; yet for all that x, I like not's humour in this, that he cannot talk with a woman but he must be jobbing presently, I do not like that I must tell ye— well 'tis done and passed now.  Fai. 
ay but I'm afraid you'll hear on't again, sir Timothy intends to clap him up till he has made satisfaction, but pray sir voice it not that I told ye.  Sir P. 
Will he so? tell him, I'll see him hanged by the neck in the high way to Paddington first; he clap him up? he shall not have so much as a hair of his head except it were to choke himself with, and yet my son shall go up and down, ay, and job him upon the nose too and he shall not know him; and if you please tell him, that I'm resolved before I have done with him, so bitterly to vex him, that he shall be glad to come with a rope in's hand, and make a humble petition to the Hangman, that he may have licence to hang himself to save his clothes— come along. Exeunt.  Enter Mirabell, Kate. Mir. 
Not vex?  
Why? Do you think there is a woman lives.  
That has a sister abused as mine  
And not yet be vexed? To them Fairefaith.  
To bring a maid into this misery,  
And all under love's pretence:  
This is your kinsman sir, your own flesh and blood sir.  Fai. 
The more sorry am I forsooth;  
But if you'll please to entertain my vows,  
Of real love and service once again  
Into your better thoughts, I'll use a means  
That shall preserve her honour from the dust,  
If not abhor me.  Mir. 
Let your heart and tongue but correspond  
And you enslave my soul.  Fai. 
I have already hammered in my scull,  
A vindication that shall make her name  
Shine to posterity.  Mir. 
The boundless Ocean of your goodness drowns  
The slender mite of what I can return.  Enter Sabina. 
Here she comes, if ye can do her a favour,  
Both she and I will be glad to snatch all  
Opportunities to express our thankful minds sir.  Fai. 
Ladies, thus it is, he has disguised himself, goes in woman's apparel, if ye please I'll bring ye to him, where, if there be occasion, you shall command my best assistance.  Kate. 
Pray ye sir where is the place?  Fair. 
It is at A shoemaker's house in the Strand, but that's all one, follow me. Exeunt Omnes.  Much. 
Budget. Enter Muchcraft, Budget.  Bud. 
Sir.  Much. 
Have ye drawn William Woodcocks plea to Tristram Widgrom's declaration— ha?  Bud. 
No sir, the cause is removed, Woodcock fearing to be overthrown at Common Law, comes with a pitiful long bill, makes a case of conscience on't, and so is flown away.  Much. 
Is he so? if I had known that Budget, I would have Plucked his feathers a little first, but 'tis no matter, let him go. Enter Hilts legging and scraping .What's your errand fellow?  Hilts. 
Fellow? Sir I'm none of your fellows, not I.  Much. 
I believe ye are not, what's your business before me?  Hilts. 
Sir I do not come to do my business before you.  Much. 
What mean these frivolous answers? Whose man are ye sir?  Hilts. 
My master's sir.  Much. 
Very good— what mad man are you pray?  Hilts. 
Mad sir, no more than yourself— mad sir?— umph.  Much. 
Nay let him alone Budget, we shall have a brave action of battery here by and by.  Hilts. 
Sir, I belong to the right worshipful Sir Timothy Testy; my master sent me for your Vice, the Case is this; a Gentleman comes into my master's house at an unreasonable time of the night contrary to my Masters known will and command, whether is this a trespass or no?  Much. 
No, no, prithee do not trouble me, I'm a little busy. Enter sir Tim.  Sir T. 
x Muchcraft, how d'ee sir?  Much. 
Sir Timothy Testy, you are kindly welcome sir, how d'ee sir?  Sir T. 
Never worse x,— even almost dead with grief, most abominably abused.  Much. 
Wherein, pray ye sir? Gives him a fee.  Sir Tim. 
That I will tell more at large hereafter sir, not only a piece, but my whole love attends ye sir— the case is this; a Gentleman comes into my house, at an uncivil and unseasonable time of the night, contrary to my known will and command; a Trespass or no?  Much. 
A trespass: a transcendent crime sir; a most foul matter, I'll assure ye; your man did not put the Case to me in this manner.  Sir T. 
Not? ye whoreson blockhead, are ye not able to speak to a man? wherefore do I keep ye?— ha?  Hilts. 
I cud not, I had not instructions in my pocket.  Much. 
'Tis well enough sir, both Law and Equity supports your cause; come, we'll walk out and talk of it.  Sir T. 
Your tongue drops honey x, and you have revived my staggering spirits:  
And now though time and age,  
Cover my head with honourable hairs,  
Yet—  
Since rays of Sunny thoughts peep out again,  
I'll strive to quell these passions— come  
Sad sighs, and tears are Orators of grief,  
But 'tis an active brain that brings relief. Exeunt omnes.   

Actus Quartus.  Enter Fairefaith, Sabina in man's apparel, Sportlove, Trash, and Hilts. Fair. 
Come, pray sir do not think on't.  Sab. 
How shall I stand by and see.  
A gentlewoman of my kindred wronged?  
Be patient?  
And my kindred thus abused? my proper flesh  
And blood disgraced, our reputation turned  
Quite topsy-turvy, nay, and all this done  
By a lascivious villain?  
No, no,  
Nothing but's blood shall pacify my sword;  
Had but the slave as many thousand lives  
As there do grains of sand surround the sea,  
There would be scope to vent my fury on;  
But now 'tis circumscribed within the verge  
Of one poor rascals life, whose blood will scarce  
Give satisfaction to my thirsty steel:  
Come sir, I do perceive you know his haunts,  
which if ye do,  
I do conjure ye here to bring him forth;  
And if you will, or dare to second him,  
I'll stand ye both.  Fai. 
Sir, on my life I vow,  
The place of his abodes unknown to me;  
They say he's fled and gone:  
'tis true, I had  
Some conversation with him, but I was  
A stranger to his thoughts and actions;  
And where this time he does bestow himself  
'tis not known to me.  Sport. 
Sirrah, what say you? where's your Master?  Tr. 
Ah, I would I cud tell ye, he has left me in a pitiful case here, if old sir Plenteous do not take pity upon me, I must even go and drive Wheelbarrows in Lincolnes-Inne-fields, for aught I know.  Fai. 
Alas poor fellow, I'm sorry for that, what canst do?  Tr. 
I have a quality sir, but the world now adays does not respect men of parts.  Fai. 
What is't?  Tr. 
A bagpiper, an't shall please your worship,  Fai. 
A Bagpiper?  Tr. 
Yes indeed sir, as simple as I stand here, I have played before as good Bears as be in the Kingdom of England.  Fair. 
Where dost live now?  Enter Valentine in women's apparel. Tr. 
Sir, in the mean time I wait upon the Lady that lies in the house here.  Val. 
Trash.  Tr. 
Madam.  Val. 
Come ye hither.  Sab. 
Unhappy eyes ye have undone my heart.  Tr. 
I come forsooth.  Sab. 
Stay fair one, stay,  Val. 
Speak ye to me sir?  Sab. 
I do,  
But first, I do entreat you will be pleased  
To smile upon my rashness, then must I  
Perforce inform ye, that just now I felt  
A blow upon my heart, which I conceive  
Was darted from your eyes.  Val. 
Your conceit was in an error sir.  Sab. 
O no,  
I see betwixt those breasts  
Is Adon's garden, and Elysium's love, Kisses her,  
And from these lips proceeds an air transcends  
Sabean spices, or the Phoenix nest;  
Lady,  
Be pleased to let this Jewel pride itself  
Between those snowy hills, and you engage  
My soul unto yourself. Gives her a jewel.  Val. 
My gratitude entertains your loving directions sir, A word sir, Valen. and Sport. go aside .What gentleman is this? methinks he much resembles Sabina Testy, know ye him not?  Sport. 
Not I, I met him here by chance, it matters not who 'tis, take you his gifts— and be sure to yield what he would have ye do, and we shall want neither gold nor jewels, I see that: and d'ee hear, you will by this means put such a trick upon your sweetheart's Champion as never was,— and in the issue it will be found to be but a jest, there's and end.  Sab. 
Pray accept of this.  Tra. 
I were to blame if I should not sir; wheelbarrows, quoth 'a? I'll see 'em all hanged first, a handsome gentlewoman's service is as good as fee tail, I see that.  Sab. 
methinks Lady, you much resemble a gentleman I know, one Mr. Valentine Crambagge, one that I would be every glad to see.  Val. 
I know the gentleman sir, he is, I take it, a friend to one Mistress Sabina Testy.  Sab. 
A friend,  
Had she been dead when first she saw his face,  
She had been happy.  Val. 
Pray you why sir?  Sab. 
Has done her that dishonour,  
That time can never raze out of memory;  
And in regard she is my nearest x,  
The sad remembrance of it tears my heart  
Into a thousand shivers;  
But now your presence like the morning Sun  
Drives off these melancholy mists wherein  
My soul did sometimes wander.  Val. 
Sir, I am yours.  Sab. 
O the sweetness of those words!  Tr. 
Nay, there's a pound of Sugar almost in every word she speaks sir.  Sab. 
Let's mix ourselves.  
But first, let Hymen with a wedding knot  
Knit up our souls.  Val. 
O no sir.  Sab. 
Nay you are now my captive.  Val. 
I hope I shall easily procure my redemption.  Sab. 
Thy very hearts thy ransom, nothing shall,  
But only that redeem thee.  Val. 
I doubt not sir, but your own goodness will plead my excuse;  
For know, I did  
Set up a resolution long ago,  
Never to marry.  Sport. 
Pish.  Sab. 
How, not marry?  Fair. 
Remember what I told you x; Sir, I know she will be persuaded, but that gentlewomen, ye know, think it a kind of disparagement to be too soon won, that's all sir.  Sab. 
Pray express your intentions Lady.  Val. 
I have already sir.  Sab. 
And is that your resolution?  Val. 
Indeed it is sir.  Sab. 
Why then I'll tell ye mine:  
I'm now in quest of this detested slave  
That wronged my x, and do hope ere long  
To vindicate her quarrel, therefore know,  
If thou'lt not marry me immediately,  
Those looks that do so much resemble his,  
Shall whet my sword against thee, nay, convert  
My love to fury, and shall sacrifice  
Thy blood, to expiate my kindred's wrong;  
Therefore I must, nay more, I will enjoy;  
Despite of fate I will;  
My quick desires do chide my patience,  
And thou must yield or die, than quickly speak;  
I cannot stand to wait upon discourse:  
But by the way consider, that ye are now  
To give a sentence either of life or death,  
Upon yourself, take heed; if ye say aye,  
You live my darling, but if no, you die.  Val. 
Sir, I consent to marry, and am content to be disposed of as you shall please.  Sab. 
Your breath is music now, come let's along.  Tr. 
Why, but sir, you will not carry away my Mistress I hope in this manner, will ye? and I have but newly got her neither— slid, these are tricks indeed?  Sab. 
Sirrah, there's for you hold you, your peace, it is my humour. Gives him money.  Tr. 
Bless your worship sir, and keep ye in this humour still say I. Exeunt omnes.  Enter sir Plenteous, Muchcraft, Budget. Much. 
Well sir, I hear ye, but ye have not spoke tooth purpose yet.  Sir P. 
Accept this from me sir, I'll prove sir, that my son was invited and sent for, and that her maid and she both used all means possible to allure him thither. Gives him a fee.  Much. 
Ay, now you have spoke home sir, this is something now, I feel your cause a little better, and thus much for your comfort, never trouble yourself Enter sir Timothy standing privately to hear the passages, chasing and stamping .about it, I'll take such a course that his cause shall ne'er proceed I'll warrant ye, alas sir Timothy's cause is not worth the leg of a Fly, and yet he does so torment my house, that I can neither eat, drink, nor sleep; ye know Budget how often I have desired him to forbear my house, and yet all will not do.  Bud. 
I wish he were hanged, he makes me tell a hundred lies in a week in telling him ye are not within, of purpose to be rid of him.  Sir. T. 
Here's a rogue.  Much. 
Alas for's business, were my case, if anybody would but give me a saucer of Mustard for't, he should have it.  Sir T. 
Saucy rascal.  Much. 
Suppose he brings his action, what can he do in 't?— not this, 'tis true, he would have retained me to have taken out a Writ against ye, but when I perceived that it was nothing but a malicious humour, I bid him go and be hanged with this brabbles, I would not be troubled with 'em.  Sir▪ T. 
Very good, but you were willing enough to be troubled with my money, I have heard you all this while, and this your sucking knave too.  Much. 
Sir Timothy, come, come, I'm glad you are come, I'm glad you are here with all my heart, come, I must have you made friends by all means.  Sir T. 
Friends? I'll see him stand bare to the tail of a Cart first, I friends with him?— hang him rascal.  Sir. P, 
Sir, I make no doubt but I shall make you know, and your daughter too before I have done with her, that she has abused my son, I cannot tell, I will not say she has bewitched him, but if I prove it, I'll make ye all stink with a vengeance.  Sir T. 
Why, ye worm-eaten slave, does my daughter look like a Witch?  Sir P. 
Budget, pray ye put down worm-eaten slave, and the day of the month too, be here?  Sir T. 
Didst not come thyself (you whoreson gull?)  Sir P. 
Write ye whoreson gull.  Budg. 
Yes sir.  Sir T. 
Didst not come, thyself, I say to know what portion I would give her? Now I find it was but a mere pretence, ye cheating rogue you.  Sir P. 
Write ye cheating rogue you.  Budg. 
Yes forsooth.  Sir T. 
If my man Hilts were here I would beat thy very nose into thy face, and afterwards beat it out again.  Sir P. 
What would ye do sir?  Much. 
Nay pray gentlemen forbear while ye are in my house.  Sir P. 
I can forbear him no longer.  Much. 
Come sit Timothy, pray go along with me.  Budg. 
Sir Plenteous, pray ye go along with me sir.  Sir T. 
Prithee let me beat the rogue first.  Much. 
Nay come sir, come, come.  Exit Muchcraft with Sir Thomas, Budget with sir Plen. Enter Sabina, Valentine, Fairefaith, Sportlove, Trash, Rowland. Sab. 
Why so?  
This is the crown of all our joys on earth,  
When love and marriage trip it hand in hand,  
it makes the mind to vault  
And caper o'er the clouds of discontent;  
methinks my soul has wings and I cud fly,  
From hence t' Elysium, come cheer up my sweet,  
What art thou sad, and see thy husband laugh?  
Come now we are married, we must have but one  
Passion betwixt us— Gentlemen what?  
Frowns at a Wedding?  Fair. 
How? frowns?  
Should a man seem to droop or hang the wings  
At such a time, he were far fitter for  
T'accompany wild Tigers in a wood,  
Then to converse with men, the gods themselves  
Sing Epithalamies, when mortals wed,  
If Gods are subject to these passions, than  
They needs must oversway the hearts of men;  
Sir, joys attend ye, may you ever be  
As full of joys, as we are now to see  
Your happy Nuptials:  
Pish, be not so sad x.  Sport. 
Come leave this dull discourse, and let us fill,  
Our active souls up to the brim with joy;  
Come, 

Sings.  
FArewell this company,  
If you love sadness,  
For melancholy is,  
Nothing but madness;  
Hang up proud costly clothes,  
Pedlars and pack toys;  
Let us make the hogsheads weep,  
Claret and sack boys.    
Are there no Fiddlers in this world?  Ro. 
Sir, I would they would come once, my very heels are up i'th' air already methinks in this humour, I cud wish the whole world were a morris dance for four & forty hours outright.  Tra. 
O thou egregious puppy, if the whole world were a Morris dance for four and forty hours outright, what should, nay, what does thou think would the good people of New England do all that while.  Row. 
I do think they would pray for a timely cessation of the noise of the superstitious bells hanging about their knees.  Tr. 
A most damnable witch in my conscience.  Sab. 
Come sweetheart, rush up your spirits, put on a resolution to be jocund; think but on what must pass betwixt us two this very night;  
How I must revel in thy arms, and then  
How thou must tumble in my bosom;  
And that I know will be enough to purge  
Sad contemplations.  Val. 
Sir, pray you excuse me;  
Troublesome things do whisper in my ear,  
Which for the present I cannot expel.  Fai. 
Pish.  Sab. 
Do not heed or nursle the least sad thought  
At such a time, tell 'em some other time  
You'll sit and hear their grievances.  Sport. 
Ay, ay, do so, what? upon your jovial day be sad? but where be these Fiddlers?  Musi. 
We are come sir.  Sport. 
Pray ye play then.  
Come, a song, a song.  

A Song.  
joy, health, and pleasure, wait upon  
This lovely pair,  
May all your days like to this one  
Be void of care,  
And may those twinkling stars of night  
Attend your bed,  
That so the bridegroom may get right  
Your maidenhead.  
And let Arabian odours then  
Perfume thy sheets;  
Strewing thy chamber once again  
With dainty sweets,  
Then let these pretty thoughts that move  
A flame in Cupid's fires,  
Bring ye to bed where you may prove  
The things that love desires.   Sab. 
Come, these Nuptial rites being done,  
It now remains we speed it to the bed,  
Where we will arm in arm discourse and act  
Loves pretty handy dandies— Gentlemen  
— speak—  
Has not my stars been kind,  
To grace my Fortunes with so fair a bliss.  Fai. 
Sir, ye enjoy a happiness beyond  
Expression or compare.  Tr. 
Nay sir, I'll promise ye this, that as long as she is your wife, no man breathing shall ere bring Actaeon's punishment upon your head— I will not say what the woman may do, and that's a rare blessing Rowland betwixt you and me, I can tell ye.  Sab. 
methinks I see  
myself now dandled on the knee of Fate.  Sport. 
Sir, you do now embrace  
A richer vein than ere the Sun beheld,  
And I presume none save your only self,  
Whose presence is a treasure of enchantments,  
Could have prevailed so far with her, whose eye  
ne'er yet cast glance of love upon a man,  
Therefore do I pronounce  
You th' only minion both of Fame and Fate.  Row. 
Nay, you are a happy man, that's certain sir, if all men had such wives, we should have a strange world, for then we should be troubled neither with children nor cuckolds.  Sab. 
Well gentlemen golden slumbers attend ye,  
Come fair one, come, we have too long deferred  
The love embraces of the marriage bed,  
O how it raps my soul to think that I  
This very hour with my fair love must lie,  
Raked up in cinders, love may burn, but when  
It ''gins to flame, it fires both gods and men;  
Come.  Val. 
Pray ye sir forbear a little.  Sab. 
I will sweetheart.  Val. 
x Fairefaith, a word, you have brought me here upon a business will utterly disgrace me; what will this gentleman think of me d'ee think, when he finds that I have gulled him thus.  Fair. 
Come, come, put your feats to sleep,  Sab. 
Nay, come sweetheart, why these delays?  Row. 
Pray ye sir deal gently with her, she's young and fearful to lie with a man, and that's the business sir, that makes her so loath t'unpin.  Tr. 
Alas poor soul, in my conscience you had rather lie with a woman, than with these rude men behalf, would not ye forsooth?  Sab. 
Come, give me your hand.  Val. 
Good sir.  Sab. 
Why? what's the matter?  Val. 
Nothing sir.  Sab. 
Nothing? I know 'tis something; are not you well?  Val. 
Yes forsooth.  Sab. 
What's the reason ye will not go to bed then? pray ye come without more ado.  Fair. 
Fie upon't x, a woman would scorn these things.  Tra. 
Nay, ye are i'th' right sir, I do believe she would defy it.  Sab. 
Come, what's the business with ye? will ye not go to bed— ha?  Val. 
Sir, I'll consider of it presently.  Sab. 
How, consider of it?  
Am I a man? a married man? or what?  
Am I a husband? must a husband then  
Entreat his wife?  
Is Nature grown so old she has forgot  
To teach her children what belongs unto  
Their different places?  
Although before I was content to bend  
My spirits to your foot, yet know, that now  
The will of Fate has destined me to be  
Next under it the sole, commander of  
Your mind and person, therefore now I must,  
Nay, I will be obeyed.  Tra. 
Pray ye do not fright her too much, she's a very tender hearted thing forsooth— pray ye speak her fair.  Sab. 
Hold you your prating sirrah, she shall observe my will now.  Tra. 
You'll never do good sir with foul means.  Row. 
By your favour my friend, I know this out of my own knowledge, that a froward sharp husband will presently make a woman do what she list.  Sab. 
Stop your mouths.  Tra. 
Sir, for my part I will not stop my mouth, I understand what I say sir, I'm a married man myself sir, and 'tis well known to be true, that I cud never yet get any thing of my wife by harsh words.  Sab. 
Once more I bid you hold your babbling.  Tra. 
Sir, she shall not go to bed till she has a mind to go to bed, nor I will not hold my babbling neither sir.  Val. 
Hold your peace Trash.  Tra. 
Yes forsooth.  Sab. 
You'll close your mouth by and by I hope.  Tra. 
Yes marry will I sir, but not at your bidding sir: what now— what d'ee think I'm a fool in a Play?  Sab. 
Will you hold your tongue or no?  Tra. 
Yes forsooth and please your worship.  Sabina takes hold of him, and offers to strike him. Sab. 
This insolence I cannot bear,  
And for your part you are my wife, and one  
In whom obedience ought to be expressed,  
And I your top.  Trash. 
Ay, you want but a little whipping.  Sab. 
What say you sirrah?  Tr. 
I say, a woman that has a good husband, and all things else, and will not go to bed, wants nothing but whipping.  Sab. 
Well, 'tis thus,  
If mild entreaties, nor a gentle fawn;  
Nor protestations, nor a husband's love  
Can mollify thy Stubborness, nor bring  
Thy sturdy disposition to my hand;  
I'll for a time quite turn out of my thoughts  
A husbands pities, and where smiles did fail,  
A lusty bastinado shall persuade  
— What shall I be baffled thus  
Out of my pleasures with a woman's blush;  
Is't fit that I stand pleading where my stars  
Bid me command? I scorn it, therefore speak  
This very present minute, nay before  
You fetch more breath, speak either ay, or no,  
Or I must strike, there's no remedy.  Row. 
We shall have the Peace broken, here presently, I see that.  Tr. 
Peace, quoth 'a? nay and my head be not broken I care not.  Sport. 
Come, she is content to go sir.  Sab. 
Give the word.  Val. 
Sir, I will go to bed.  Sab. 
Come your ways then.  Exit Sabina leading Valentine; Trash falls into a laughter. Tr. 
d'ee hear gentlemen, d'ee hear?  
What if this gentleman should get my Master with child now?  Sport. 
Nay, what if your Master should get that gentleman with child.  Tra. 
I cannot tell what he may do for men, but I ne'er knew him do such a courtesy for a woman yet.  Row. 
Mr. Fairefaith, pray tell me one thing, why did you being my Master's kinsman, and an old soldier stand so patiently, and see him so affronted.  Tra. 
I that's true indeed Rowland, he being an old beaten soldier too.  Fair. 
A beaten soldier?  Tr. 
An old soldier I mean sir.  Fair. 
I confess I had no disposition to meddle in't, because I know they'll agree themselves, I know the bowels of the business, which you do not, come, go along, and by the way I'll tell ye the plot.  

And then we'll bring this news  
To bless the ears of old sir Timothy,  
Come—  
Strength I confess may make a Giant yield,  
But give me policy to win the field. Exeunt omnes.    

Actus Quintus.  Enter Mirabell, Hilts before, and Kate behind. Mir. 
O My poor sister!  Kate. 
There's no question but we shall find her, how long has she been wanting forsooth?  Mir. 
A great while Kate, a little faster, what shall I tread upon your heels?— not so fast neither.  Hilts. 
What the devil ails ye? too soft, and then too fast, here's more ado with you, than with all the Pageants in my Lord Majors show; he that waits on you, had need to have his steps pricked out with a pair of Compasses, for aught I see.  Mir. 
What a surly groom are you, may not one speak to you?  Hilts. 
Speak? yes forsooth you may speak, but I do not love to walk before a Gentlewoman like one of these gingerly youths that go before their Mistresses, as if the streets were paved with eggs, not I.  Kate. 
Why, how now sir sauce box, what is't all fellows with ye, ye filthy, stinking, saucy, dirty, scabbed, paltry, lousy, mangy rogue ye.  Hilts. 
Heyda, Mistress juniper, what's the matter with you trow? you were not used to be so snappish, I'm sure on't, I have both gone and rid before you, and you ne'er found fault with it.  Kate. 
O ye lying rascal, did ye ever ride before me in your life?  Hilts. 
Yes marry have I forsooth.  Kate. 
'Tis as false a tale Mistress as ever was told; 'tis true, he rid before me one night a little short journey; 'twas nothing, I cud even a gone as far a soot upon the matter.  Hilts. 
Who doubts that forsooth?  Kate. 
Why will you lie than ye rascal?  Hilts. 
Why, what's the business? what the mischief ails ye? sure ye have not made water today I think.  Mir. 
Come Hilts come, you should bear with her.  Hilts. 
Bear forsooth, she should bear, she's used too 'it, more than I am forsooth.  Kate. 
What should I bear pray? suffer such an Ass as you to ride upon my back, should I not?  Hilts. 
Why not? as well as always upon your belly forsooth?  Mir. 
Come, come, pray ye go along, we have something else to think on than stand here.  Kate. 
Very well sir, I shall think upon your words.  Hilts. 
This way forsooth?  Mir. 
Yes, yes, go on.  Enter Sir Timothy with officers meeting them. Sir T. 
How now daughter, whether are you going?  Mir. 
To see if I can find my sister sir.  Sir T. 
Come, come, do not trouble yourself to no purpose, I have ordered it already, I'll have these men go that have authority to make the doors and gates fly open where they come and go, and d'ee hear Officers, look too 'it, and be sure to search very narrowly the places that I told ye of, and especially the house where young Crambagge is suspected to lie, and if ye find either one or both of 'em, bring 'em away, d'ee hear?  Offi. 
We shall sir. Exeunt Officer.  Sir T. 
Daughter, I rather think (to put herself out of th'way of this approaching disparagement) she has run herself upon some desperate course.  Mir. 
But d'ee think these men will find her sir?  Sir T. 
I cannot tell, we shall know presently.  Kate. 
Do not weep Mistress, I hope she's well, and will be here again shortly.  Sir T. 
Come, come, let's have no weeping.  Hilts. 
Do not you grieve, and for them 'tis not a pin matter, let them alone, weeping is as wholesome for a woman sir as making of water.  Mir. 
Had she but bid farewell  
'Twould not have troubled me so much;  
But thus to go away—  Hilts. 
ne'er fear, she's well enough I'll warrant ye.  Sir T. 
Oh Hilts,  
Her high born spirit cannot brook disgrace,  
And I do fear these mischiefs will provoke  
Some violent hand upon herself;  
yet methinks one thing  
Whispers my understanding in the ear,  
And tells me she is safe;  
There's not a jewel, ring, or bracelet left  
That ere she wore, but is conveyed away.  Hilts. 
Nay then sir fear nothing, for if she had so much wit to carry away her rings and jewels, she has wit enough to keep herself from killing or drowning, I warrant ye.  Sir T. 
O heavens!  
With what a swinge is youth,  
Hurried along the world and subject still,  
Unto the rule of an unbridled will:  
Oh!  
Pity those Parents then, who oftentimes  
Are brought unto their graves by children crimes;  
In, in, and comfort yourself;  
I'll see these Officers dispatched away,  Exeunt Hilts, Mirabell, Kate at one door, Sir Timothy at the other. Enter Valentine unbuttoned as out of bed. Val. 
Rowland, Rowland, Rowland; I say.  Enter Rowland as newly awaked. Row. 
What's the matter here?  
Wast you that called sir?  Val. 
It was I.  Ro. 
What would ye have sir, are not ye well?  Val. 
I would I were.  Ro. 
I'm sorry you are not well sir?  Val. 
Call Trash, call Trash.  Ro. 
Trash, Trash.  Tr. 
What's the matter? Within.  Ro. 
Come presently, you master's not well;  
has coming sir, what would ye please to have sir?  Val. 
Nothing, nothing at all.  Enter trash yawning and rubbing his eyes. Tr. 
Rowland, where art fool?  Ro. 
Here, here man, whether dost go?  Tr. 
What's the matter Rowland— ha?  Ro. 
Your Master's not well here.  Tr. 
Not well? O alas! I'll run and fetch some hot water presently.  Val. 
Stay, whether d'ee go? come your ways hither, what will you fetch man, I'm not sick.  Tr. 
Not? you're but a yawling rascal Rowland for waking of me, I was in the daintiest sleep, and the sweetest dream; methought my Master was in bed with the bravest wench—  Val. 
'Twas too true.  Tr. 
How? was it too true? introth, I thank ye for nothing, you ne'er dreamed so for me I'm sure on't.  Val. 
O Rowland, I'm undone, I'm undone.  Ambo. 
What's the matter sir?  Row. 
I'll warrant ye the gentleman that went to bed with him, finding himself cozened has killed himself, or one mischief or other, I thought no good would come on't.  Val. 
No, no, 'twas a woman all the while, 'twas a woman.  Tr. 
'Twas a woman good man simple, what? dost thou think that I dream out of Aesop's Fables?  Row. 
'Twould vex a man to marry in jest, and then to have it prove plain earnest, I'll assure ye that.  Val. 
O Trash, I'm undone.  Tr. 
Why undone sir, why d'ee say so, and please your worship.  Val. 
I'm married man, I'm married with a vengeance,  Tr. 
Why so am I too sir; but how should we help it, can ye tell that sir.  Val. 
O Rowland, what shall I do? where shall I go? where shall I run?  Row. 
Run quoth 'a? nay, if you're married once, I'll trust ye for running.  Val. 
I am married, and I know not to whom, did I but know that.  Trash. 
That's no great matter, 'tis but going to the Church Book, and you may know that presently.  Val. 
Accursed Fate, what marriages might I have had? to what a pitch might I have mounted up my fortunes? which now I see are nothing but confusion:  
Who knows what strumpet this may be,  
Some quean for ought I know, that thinks to raise  
herself out of my ruins:  
Now my perplexed thought begin to burn  
With flames of guilt:  
Now comes my trembling soul unto the bar  
Of my own knowledge:  
O Sabina, Sabina!  
The gods now tumble vengeance on my head  
For wrongs to thee;  
Had I been well advised, O then I might  
Have lain by thy fair side, where every touch:  
Had been as tender as a bed of down.  
And every smile a heaven;  
But 'tis too late,  
To call back what is past, it was my fate,  
And there's an end;  
Now am I round entrenched with miseries;  
One side a marriage nips me in the bud;  
On th'other side, a rancorous enemy,  
Old Testy, who still gazes on the print  
Of our mistaken step, therefore 'tis now  
No time to pause, pack up my clothes this night,  
I do intend to save myself by flight:  
Trash, about it presently.  Tr. 
Yes and please your worship.  Val. 
But d'ee hear, let not my Landlady, nor her husband have so much as a glimpse of it, for I have no money for 'em.  Tr. 
Nay sir, if you intend to travel, be sure ye take all your money along with ye, especially if you mean to be merry, for you shall find that money is the most dainty companion sir; but Rowland, d'ee hear? scatter no words.  Val. 
By no means.  Row. 
Not a word sir;  Exeunt Valentine and Trash, manet Rowland. 
Travel quoth 'a? here's a piece of work indeed:  Enter Welt and his Wife. 
O Mr. Welt, how d'ee sir, how does my Landlady— ha?  Welt. 
Very well, how d'ee you Rowland?  Row. 
Troth, pretty well, Servingman like, careless of much, proud of a little, drunk for want of wit, and sometimes sober for want of money.  Welt. 
I thought ye had been sick, because I have not seen ye this long time.  Row. 
Sick quoth 'a? my pockets are a little cowardly now and then indeed, that's all my sickness.  Welt. 
What? would ye have 'em quarrelsome?  Row. 
Quarrelsome? no, but I would have 'em to have a little more mettle in 'em for all that.  Welt. 
where's your Master pray?  Row. 
Nay I know not, I have not seen him this six hours.  Welt. 
There is a little money due to me from him, I wish he would take the payment of it into consideration, I have extraordinary occasion to use the money, if he please to let me have but some of it, it will do me a courtesy, he shall find me reasonable.  Wife 
How idly you talk husband? Is that a way to live in the world, do you think it is for my ease to have gentlemen come, and lie in my house, and go away and pay nothing— ha?  Welt. 
Pay? yes good sweetheart, why should he not pay; there's nobody speaks against that, sweetheart.  Wife. 
Why do you talk so foolishly then of being reasonable, and I cannot tell what, I do not like such words I tell ye truly;— reasonable quoth 'a? Eat my meat, drink my drink, burn my wood, foul my rooms, wear my sheets, make use of my servants, and yet I must be reasonable; if ye can talk no wiselier before folks, pray ye hold your peace and let your wife speak— besides, ye know he owes me both for boots, shoes, and pantables, and I shall give him that too shall not I? no indeed forsooth, I would have your Master to know that I do not buy my leather so cheap, I'll assure ye— be reasonable quoth 'a? besides, I have promised to pay Mr. Sugarbox the Chandler, nutmegs and sugar for his morning's draughts, and Mr. Dash the Vintner for wine in's chamber, and shall I pay them before your Master has paid me— introth I do not mean it.  Row. 
'Tis fit a gentleman should pay you before, that's the truth of it.  Wife. 
Ye say right Rowland, I see you have more consideration with ye than my husband has— be reasonable quoth 'a?— marry whoop.  Row. 
Why d'ee keep all this stir, my Master's not running away woman— here's a quarter indeed, if he will be ruled by me, he shall not give you one farthing, because you keep such a coil.  Wife. 
How keep such a coil ye jack sawee? how now? such a coil? d'ee think ye are talking to your companions sirrah? such a coil? and in my own house too sirrah? and you must stand by forsooth like john a Noakes, and see every Servingman run upon me in this manner; remember this when ye come to bed; and for your Masters not paying of me, ye saucebox, I'm at the better end of the staff with him, for I have locked up all his clothes; nay if you're so Saucy, I'll fit him, I'll warrant ye.  Row. 
Ye will?  Wife. 
Yes indeed will I?  Enter Trash. Tr. 
Rowland, Rowland, Rowland, thieves, thieves, thieves, thieves, Rowland, thieves.  Ro. 
How now? how now?  Tr. 
All my Master's clothes are stolen quite a way Rowland, all stolen every jot, breeches, doublet, boots, spurs, cloaks, gowns, hats, bands, cuffs, ruffs, caps, shoes, shirts, all gone, all stolen, every jot.  Ro. 
Here's the thief.  Tr. 
Where? where?  Ro. 
Here I say.  Tr. 
Who, my Landlady, did you steal my Master's clothes— ha? wherefore pray ye?  Wife. 
Steal 'em? no sir I scorn it; I took 'em indeed, and I'll justify it; and more than so sir, I have locked 'em up, and I'll justify that too.  Tr. 
How? locked up my Master's clothes, wherefore I pray ye?  Wife. 
Wherefore? do not ye know your Master owes me money? do not you know I have often asked it, and cannot get it? do not ye know that it is a pretty sum? do not you know that it is for meat, drink, lodging, fire, and candlelight, washing, wringing, and starching; besides, boots, shoes, pantables, and galosheas: if, I had the Book I cud show ye.  Tr. 
Nay, you're perfect enough without book for aught I see. Enter Boy.  Boy. 
Trash, Your Master's come home, and you must come to him presently. Exit Boy.  Exeunt Trash, Welt and his wife. Ro. 
Here's a creature I'll swear upon a book, this woman has no bones in her tongue, if any man love trumpets, there's a noise for him, sure I do not think but this shoemaker's a witch, he would never ha' contracted himself to the devil else.  Enter Valentine. Val. 
What, are ye here? and I have nothing put up yet?  Ro. 
Sir, your clothes are all put up, and safe under lock and key.  Val. 
Nay then 'tis no matter; who put 'em up?  Ro. 
That did my Landlady sir, she has locked 'em up, and swears she'll keep 'em safe till she can persuade ye to part with some pocket mettle sir.  Val. 
Enough, enough, I will not be beholden to her, I'll satisfy her.  Enter sir Timothy with Officers. Sir T. 
O sir, have I found ye out in the end, Come Officers lay hold on him— but stay let's talk with ye a little first.  Ro. 
Sure my master was borne when the sign was in Cancer, for whatsoever he does intend, goes always quite backwards, well somebody shall know on't presently, that shall fetch him off again for all this sir.  Sir T. 
Sirrah, hold your peace, and  
Be gone about your business fellow, Exit Rowland.  
Dost know what thou hast done? or have my wrongs  
Arrived at thy understanding yet?— ha?  Val. 
Sir I am conscious to myself of all  
The wrongs and injuries that I have done ye.  Sir T. 
Why hast thou put this blemish on my child,  
Which like a Canker threatens to deface  
My Story, and for ever raze my name  
Out of the book of honour, nay, a spot,  
Which time nor date, nor all the brinish waves  
Can e'er wash out— speak thou detested wretch;  
Hadst not a spark of virtue left within  
Thy bosom to preserve thy honour— speak, I say.  Val. 
In trembling reverence to your precepts here,  
I creep upon my knees before the bar  
Of Your just frowns, I dare not plead excuse,  
No, no, my crimes are writ upon my front  
In die of blushing guilt, which nothing but  
Your reconciling smiles can ere wash out,  
— They, I say, they must be  
That expiating sacrifice for me.  Sir T. 
Smiles on thee?  
Hast thou the face to say thy faults can be  
Capable of mercy? go to, mark what I say,  
Unless thou canst contrive a way to cure  
The wounded reputation of my Girl,  
Expect not one commiserating thought,  
But all the tortures of severity  
That e'er can be inflicted—  
Come, come, rise up, it is in vain to kneel,  
My ears are stopped to mercy, nothing now  
But only that can ope them.  Val. 
Sir, I am content to engage all my possibilities to accomplish your desires.  Sir T. 
There may be some hope in this.  Val. 
Sir, Devise how I may  
But give this satisfaction you require,  
And my soul shall study its performance.  Sir T. 
I cannot tell,  
Thou hast so plunged her in a sink of shame,  
— That't will, for aught I know,  
Nonplus the world to find a remedy.  Val. 
Her case is not so desperate, I hope,  
I'm ready here to hug  
The most ingenious torments on these terms,  
That she and you'll be pleased;  
Were't to encounter a whole host of fiends,  
Never to sleep but in a dragon's den;  
Or from the bowels of the burning hill  
To fetch a coal, eat fire, or drink a cup  
Of mercury precipitat, I'll do't,  
And think it an Elysium, if it may  
Redeem your loves, and state me once again  
In your esteem.  Sir T. 
'Tis well, I do commend your forward mind;  
But this will never do't;  
There's nothing but a marriage will admit  
A thought of remedy.  Val. 
Nothing but marriage?  Sir T. 
Not any thing i'th' world but Marriage▪  Val. 
Not?  Sir T. 
No indeed.  Val. 
Merciless Planets, will ye still go on,  
To heap these hills of mischief on my neck,  
Or can misfortune reach a higher pitch  
In him whose misery is intolerable,  
And remedy impossible, O no;  
Sir, in a word,  
Your daughter's quite undone, and so am I.  Sir, T. 
How stands the business?  
Speak the worst, if truth, and let me die.  Val. 
Sir, 'tis in vain to counterfeit,  
Or build up castles where they cannot stand;  
Do with me what ye please, the truth is this,  
I am already married.  Sir T. 
How? already married?  
Villain, keep in that breath;  
The repetition of these words would tear  
A heart of brass— already married?  
Didst thou ensnare my child for this?  
Hast thou betrayed her white innocence for this?  
Blasted the blossom of her virgin spring,  
And married now another?  
Canst hope or dream, that e'er thy perjured soul  
Shall see th' Elysian groves?  
Hold heart from breaking, now or never hold,  
Married to another?  
Shall I be bandied thus for ever twixt  
Rackets of shame and misery,  
Cud fate find ne'er a football but myself  
To toss and spurn— umph?  
Hell and the furies do conspire I think,  
To cull out me from all the rest o'th' world  
To vent their mischiefs on, who is't ye have married? speak.  Val. 
It is unknown to me sir.  Sir T. 
I ask ye who 'tis you have married?  Val. 
Sir,  
Upon my life I know not who she is.  Sir T. 
Has thy lewdness brought thee to distraction; married, and ye know not to whom? come take him away, 'tis in vain to talk— but stay a little. I'll see what creature 'tis.  Val. 
'Tis very true sir.  Sir T. 
What wilt thou make me mad?  
Where is she, in the house?  Val. 
Yes.  Sir T. 
Officer, go fetch her hither, Exit Officer.  
I'll make her tell me who she is,  
If she can:  
Married already quoth 'a? and ye know not to whom neither, here's a marriage with a vengeance.  Enter Fairefaith and Sportlove, who were present at the marriage leading betwixt them Sabina veiled, they present her to her Father, Hilts attending them. Fai. 
We heard ye sent for my x Valentine's wife sir.  Sir T. 
I did so.  Fai. 
We have brought her to you sir, here she is sir.  Sir T. 
Very well, in good time: what are you gentlewoman? whence are ye? ha?— speak; nay, if you will not give me an account, I must punish ye; Sabina unpins her mask, and falls upon her knees to her Father.  
— let not my eyes surfeit— what my Sabina?  
My lovely Girl?  
Thrice welcome to my bosom?  
My Sabina? my daughter, and the wife  
Of this my dear friend, unexpected felicity,  Enter Sir Plenteous with Trash and Rowland. 
Sir Plenteous? welcome thrice noble sir Plenteous;  
But stay  
Gentlemen, pray ye present her to her husband first,  Fairefaith and Sportlove present her to Valentine. 
Sweet sir Plenteous, how d'ee sir?  Sab. 
D'ee know me sir, nay gaze on sir.  Hilts. 
He knows her present I see that.  Tra. 
Know her? he has been familiarly with her— before man, and that thee didst not know.  Sab. 
Gaze on still sir,  
I'm not Sabina's ghost, but her poor self;  
Here stands the creature that was wronged by thee,  
The very selfsame that you married sir:  
What dost thou think?  
Dost thou not tremble, lest I should begin,  
To number up my wrongs?  
I that was lulled i'th' bosom of my friends,  
And as 'twere dandled on a Father's knee;  
Forfeited all this favour, and was made  
A stranger to his eye for love to thee;  
Yet thou  
Like the prodigious Monster of the world  
Ingratitude, didst labour to forget,  
Not my love only, but those sacred vows  
Have passed betwixt us; but to be short,  
Thus— thus I revenge myself. Kisses him.  Val. 
O my Sabina!  
It is too sweet and loving a revenge  
Upon so vile a miscreant.  Sab. 
Come  
Let the remembrance of these matters die,  
And be confined to dust, let 'em be trod  
Into the very centre of the earth,  
Never to rise again; and let our loves  
For ever twine like twins;  
What's past I have forgot and pardoned.  Val. 
Seal it, or else I die; Kisses him again.  
Live, O live!  
A rare example to all future times  
Of constancy in love.  Sir P. 
Daughter, my heart bids thee welcome,  
This night my house shall give thee entertainment,  
Whereof thyself shall be sole governess,  
And when the icy hand of death shall drive  
My soul out of this clod,  
It shall be his and thine.  Sir T. 
But gentlemen, methinks I long to hear  
The story of this marriage, how it come to pass;  
For did I know't, I should adore the star,  
Under whose influence she was brought t'arrive  
Midst storms of woe upon this shore of bliss.  Sport. 
Sir, I do think 'twill be  
A seasonable discourse for supper;  
Suspend but your desires till then  
And you shall be satisfied.  Sir T. 
With all my heart, with all my heart, but son, I have one petition to prefer to you.  Val. 
You may style it a command sir.  Sir T. 
You must needs bestow upon me your servant Trash.  Tr. 
Heyda? now I'm a begged fool, I see that.  Val. 
Sirrah, attend my father.  Tr. 
Your worship's humble servant sir.  Sir T. 
In all this business I have observed in thee  
Discretion— judgement— wit— and policy;  
Therefore  
I do appoint thee Steward of my house,  
And put into thy charge the overseeing  
Of all my businesses.  Tr. 
Nay sir, for an oversight in any business let me alone.  Sir T. 
And what is more.  
Dispose my house and servants as you please.  Tr. 
Hilts, come hither— Sirrah, do you wait upon me.  Hilts. 
Yes forsooth.  Tr. 
I did ever think thou wouldst come to some good, for thou hast been always an honest Trojan; D'ee hear, if you had carried me to Bridewell, when ye were bid— where had your proferments been then Hilts.  Sir T. 
Mr. Fairefaith, for you,  
I do perceive your ingenuity,  
Has been a means to make my comfort swell;  
And for return, I do bestow on thee  
My daughter Mirabell.  Fai. 
Sir, your returns are far beyond the claim  
Of my deserts; and though I am not fit  
To bandy favours with so brave a Knight,  
Yet I will stretch my studes to express  
A detestation of ingratitude: and now Sabina,  
I do salute thee by the word of Sister, Kisses her.  
— but why so dumpish on a sudden— ha?  
I know the cause already, 'tis for fear  
Your censures on her faults be too severe;  
She has given satisfaction where 'twas due,  
Her Father's pleased, and so we hope are you:  
To you she is referred, who now are set,  
Ready to give your sentences; but yet  
Be pleased to speak your doom with gentle breath,  
Cause you're the Judges of her Life and Death.   
FINIS.