NORTHWARD HOE.  
Sùndry times Acted by the Children of Paul's.  
By Thomas Decker, and john Webster.  
Imprinted at London by G. ELD. 1607.   

ACTVS PRIMVS.  Enter Luke Greenshield with Fetherstone booted. Feth. 
ARt sure old Maybery inns here tonight,  Gree. 
'tis certain the honest knave Chamberlain that hath been my Informer, my bawd, ever since I knew Ware assures me of it, and more being a Londoner though altogether unacquainted, I have requested his company at supper.  Feth. 
Excellent occasion: how we shall carry ourselves in this business is only to be thought upon.  Gree. 
Be that my undertaking: if I do not take a full revenge of his wives puritanical coyness.  Feth. 
Suppose it she should be chaste,  Gree. 
O hang her: this art of seeming honest makes many of our young sons and heirs in the City, look so like our prentices,— chamberlain.  Cha. 
Hear Sir. Enter Chamberlaine.  Gree. 
This honest knave is called Innocence, be't not a good name for a Chamberlain? he dwelled at Dunstable not long since, and hath brought me and the two butcher's Daughters there to interview twenty times & not so little I protest: how chance you left dunstable Sirrah?  Cha. 
Faith Sir the town drooped ever since the peace in Ireland, your captains were wont to take their leaves of their London Polecats, (their wenches I mean Sir) at Dunstable: the next morning when they had broke their fast together the wenches brought them to quickly i'th' hole, & so the one for London the other for Westchester, your only road now Sir is York York Sir.  Gree. 
True, but yet it comes scant of the Prophecy; Lincoln was, London is, and York shallbe.  Cha. 
Yes Sir, 'tis fulfilled, York shallbe, that is, it shallbe York still, surely it was the meaning of the prophet: will you have some Crayfish, and a spitchcock.  Enter Maybery with Bellamont. Feth. 
And a fat Trout.  Cham. 
You shall Sir; the Londoners you wot of:  Green. 
Most kindly welcome— I beseech you hold our boldness excused Sir.  Bella. 
Sir it is the health of travailers, to enjoy good company: will you walk.  Feth. 
Whether Travail you I beseech you.  May. 
To London Sir we came from Sturbridge.  Bel. 
I tell you Gentlemen I have observed very much with being at sturbridge; it hath afforded me mirth beyond the length of five latin Comedies; here should you meet a Norfolk yeoman ful-but; with his head able to overturn you; and his pretty wife that followed him, ready to excuse the ignorant hardness of her husband's forehead, in the goose marked number of freshmen; stuck here and there, with a graduate: like cloves with great heads in a gammon of bacon: here two gentlemen making a marriage between their heirs over a woolpack; there a minister's wife that could speak false latin very lispingly; here two in one corner of a shop: Londoners selling their wares, & other Gentlemen courting their wives; where they take up petticoats you should find scholars & townsmen's wives crowding together while their husbands wear in another market busy amongst the Oxen; 'twas like a camp for in other Countries so many Punks do not follow an army. I could make an excellent description of it in a Comedy: but whether are you travailing Gentlemen?  Feth 
Faith Sir we purposed a dangerous voyage, but upon better consideration we altered our course.  May. 
May we without offence partake the ground of it.  Green. 
'tis altogether trivial insooth: but to pass away the time till supper, I'll deliver it to you, with protestation before hand, I seek not to publish every gentlewoman's dishonour, only by the passage of my discourse to have you censure the state of our quarrel.  Bel. 
Forth Sir.  Green. 
Frequenting the company of many merchants wives in the City, my heart by chance leapt into mine eye to affect the fairest but with all the falsest creature that ever affection stooped to.  May. 
Of what rank was she I beseech you.  Feth. 
Upon your promise of secrecy.  Bel. 
You shall close it up like treasure of your own, and yourself shall keep the key of it,  Green. 
She was and by report still is wife to a most grave and well reputed Citizen.  May. 
And entertained your love.  Green. 
As Meadows do April: the violence as it seemed of her affection— but alas it proved her dissembling, would at my coming and departing bedew her eyes with love drops; O she could the art of woman most feelingly.  Bel. 
Most feelingly.  May. 
I should not have liked that feelingly had she been my wife, give us some sack hear and in faith— we are all friends; & in private— what was her husband's name.— I'll give you a carouse by and by.  Green. 
O you shall pardon me his name, it seems you are a Citizen, it would be discourse enough for you upon the exchange this fortnight should I tell his name.  Bel. 
Your modesty in this wives commendation; on sir.  Green. 
In the passage of our loves, (amongst other favours of greater value) she bestowed upon me this ring which she protested was her husband's gift.  May 
The poesy, the poesy— O my heart, that ring good in faith:  Green. 
Not many nights coming to her and being familiar with her.  May. 
Kissing and so forth.  Green. 
I Sir.  Ma. 
And talking to her feelingly.  Gre. 
Pox on't, I lay with her.  May. 
Good in faith you are of a good complexion.  Green. 
Lying with her as I say: and rising somewhat early from her in the morning, I lost this ring in her bed.  May. 
In my wives bed.  Feth. 
How do you Sir.  May 
Nothing: lets have a fire chamberlain; I think my boots have taken water I have such a shuddering: i'th' bed you say;  Green. 
Right Sir, in Mistress Maybery's sheets.  May. 
Was her name Maybery.  Green 
Beshrew my tongue for blabbing, I presume upon your secrecy.  May. 
O God Sir, but where did you find your losing;  Green. 
Where I found her falseness: with this Gentleman; who by his own confession partaking the like enjoyment; found this ring the same morning on her pillow, and shamed not in my sight to wear it.  May. 
What did she talk feelingly to him too; I warrant her husband was forth a Town all this while, and he poor man travailed with hard Eggs in's pocket, to save the charge of a bait, whilst she was at home with her Plovers, Turkey, Chickens; do you know that Maibery.  Feth. 
No more than by name.  May. 
he's a wondrous honest man; let's be merry; will not your mistress gentlemen, you are tenants in common I take it.  Feth Gree. 
Yes.  May. 
Will not your Mistress make much of her husband when he comes home as if no such legerdemain had been acted.  Green. 
Yes she hath reason for't, for in some countries, where men and women have good travailing stomachs, they begin with porridge; then they fall to Capon or so-forth: but if Capon come short of filling their bellies, to their porridge again, 'tis their only course, so for our women in England.  May. 
This wit taking of long journeys: kindred that comes in o'er the hatch, and sailing to Westminster makes a number of Cuckolds.  Bell. 
Fie what an idle quarrel is this, was this her ring?  Green. 
Her ring Sir.  May. 
A pretty idle toy, would you would take money for't,  Feth. Green. 
Money sir.  May. 
The more I look on't, the more I like it.  Bell. 
Troth 'tis of no great value, and considering the loss, and finding of this ring made breach into your friendship, Gentlemen, with this trifle purchase his love, I can tell you he keeps a good Table.  Green. 
What my Mistress gift?  Feth. 
Faith you are a merry old Gentleman; I'll give you my part in't.  Green. 
Troth and mine, with your promise to conceal it from her husband.  May. 
Doth he know of it yet?  Green. 
No Sir.  May. 
He shall never then I protest: look you this ring doth fit me passing well.  Feth. 
I am glad we have fitted you.  May. 
This walking is wholesome, I was a cold even now, now I sweat for't.  Feth. 
Shalls walk into the Garden Luke. Gentlemen we'll down and hasten supper.  May. 
Look you, we must be better acquainted that's all.  Exeunt Green. and Feth. Green. 
Most willingly; Excellent, he's heat to the proof, let's withdraw, and give him leave to rave a little.  May. 
chamberlain, give us a clean Towel.  Enter Chamberlaine. Bell. 
How now man?  May. 
I am foolish old Maybery, and yet I can be wise Maybery too; I'll to London presently, begone Sir.  Bell. 
How, how?  May. 
Nay, nay, God's precious you do mistake me Master Bellamont; I am not distempered, for to know a man's wife is a whore, is to be resolved of it, and to be resolved of it, is to make no question of it, and when a case is out of question; what was I saying?  Bell. 
Why look you, what a distraction are you fallen into?  May. 
If a man be divorced, do you see, divorced forma juris, whether may he have an action or no, 'gainst those that make horns at him?  Bell. 
O madness! that the frailty of a woman should make a wise man thus idle! yet I protest to my understanding, this report seems as far from truth, as you from patience.  May. 
Then am I a fool, yet I can be wise and I list too: what says my wedding ring?  Bell. 
Indeed that breeds some suspicion: for the rest most gross and open, for two men, both to love your wife, both to enjoy her bed, and to meet you as if by miracle, and not knowing you, upon no occasion in the world, to thrust upon you a discourse of a quarrel, with circumstance so dishonest, that not any Gentleman but of the country blushing, would have published. I and to name you: do you know them?  May. 
Faith now I remember, I have seen them walk muffled by my shop.  Bell. 
Like enough; pray God they do not borrow money of us twixt Ware and London: come strive to blow over these clouds.  May. 
Not a cloud, you shall have clean Moonshine, they have good smooth looks the fellows.  Bell. 
As jet, they will take up I warrant you, where they may be trusted; will you be merry?  May. 
Wondrous merry; let's have some Sack to drown this Cuckold, down with him: wondrous merry: one word & no more; I am but a foolish tradesman, and yet I'll be a wise tradesman. Exeunt.  Enter Doll lead between Leuer-poole, and Chartley, after them Philip arrested. Phil. 
Arrest me? at whose suit? Tom Chartley, Dick Leverpoole, stay, I'm arrested.  Omn. 
Arrested?  1. Ser. 
Gentlemen break not the head of the peace; it's to no purpose, for he's in the laws clutches, you see he's fanged.  Doll. 
Uds life, do you stand with your naked weapons in your hand, and do nothing with 'em? put one of 'em into my fingers, I'll tickle the pimple-nosed varlets.  Phil. 
Hold Doll, thrust not a weapon upon a mad woman, Officers step back into the Tavern, you might ha' ta'en me i'th' street, and not i'th' Tavern entry, you Cannibals.  Ser. 
we did it for your credit Sir.  Chart. 
How much is the debt? Drawer, some wine.  Enter Drawer. 1. Ser. 
four score pound: can you send for Bail Sir? or what will you do? we cannot stay.  Doll. 
You cannot, you pasty-footed Rascals, you will stay one day in hell.  Phil. 
four score pounds draws deep; farewell Doll, come sergeant, I'll step to mine Uncle not far off, hereby in Pudding lane, and he shall bail me: if not, Chartly you shall find me playing at Span-counter, and so farewell. Send me some Tobacco.  1. Ser. 
Have an eye to his hands.  2. Ser. 
Have an eye to his legs. Exeunt.  Doll. 
I'm as melancholy now?  Chart. 
Villainous spiteful luck, I'll hold my life some of these saucy Drawers betrayed him.  Draw. 
we sir! no by Gad Sir, we scorn to have a judas in our company.  Lever. 
No, no, he was dogged in, this is the end of all dying.  Doll. 
This is the end of all whores, to fall into the hands of knaves. Drawer, tie my shoe pry thee: the new knot as thou seest this: Philip is a good honest Gentleman, I love him because he'll spend, but when I saw him on his Father's Hobby, and a brace of Punks following him in a coach, I told him he would run out, hast done boy?  Draw. 
Yes forsooth: by my troth you have a dainty leg.  Doll. 
How now goodman rogue.  Draw. 
Nay sweet Mistress Doll.  Doll. 
Doll! you reprobate! out you Bawd for seven years by the custom of the City.  Draw. 
Good Mistress Dorothy; the pox take me, if I touched your leg but to a good intent.  Doll. 
Prate you: the rotten toothed rascal, will for six pence fetch any whore to his masters customers: and is every one that swims in a taffety gown lettuce for your lips? uds life, this is rare, that Gentlewomen and Drawers, must suck at one Spigot: Do you laugh you unseasonable puckfist? do you grin?  Chart. 
Away Drawer: hold pry thee good rogue, hold my sweet Doll, a pox a this swaggering.  Doll. 
Pox a your guts, your kidneys; mew: hang ye, rook: I'm as melancholy now as Fleetstreet in a long vacation.  Lever. 
Melancholy? come we'll ha' some mulled Sack.  Doll. 
When begins the term?  Chart. 
Why? hast any suits to be tried at Westminster?  Doll. 
My Suits you base ruffian have been tried at Westminster already: so soon as ever the term begins, I'll change my lodging, it stands out o' the way; I'll lie about Charing-Cross, for if there be any stirrings, there we shall have 'em: or if some dutchman would come from the States! oh! these flemings pay soundly for what they take.  Lever. 
If thou'lt have a lodging Westward Doll, I'll fit thee.  Doll. 
At Tyburn will you not? a lodging of your providing? to be called a lieutenant's, or a captains wench! oh! I scorn to be one of your Low-country commodities, I; is this body made to be maintained with Provant and dead pay? no: the Mercer must be paid, and Satin gowns must be ta'en up.  Chart. 
And gallon pots must be tumbled down.  Doll. 
Stay: I have had a plot a breeding in my brains— Are all the Quest-houses broken up?  Lever. 
Yes, long since: what then?  Doll. 
What then? mary then is the wind come about, and for those poor wenches that before Christmas fled Westward with bag and baggage, come now sailing alongst the lee shore with a Northerly wind, and we that had warrants to lie without the liberties, come now dropping into the freedom by Owl-light sneakingly.  Chart. 
But Doll, what's the plot thou spak'st off?  Doll. 
Mary this: Gentlemen, and tobacco-stinkers, and such like are still buzzing where sweet meats are (like Flies) but they make any flesh stink that they blow upon: I will leave those fellows therefore in the hands of their Laundresses: Silver is the king's stamp, man God's stamp, and a woman is man's stamp, we are not currant till we pass from one man to another.  Both: 
Very good.  Doll 
I will therefore take a fair house in the City: no matter though it be a Tavern that has blown up his Master: it shall be in trade still, for I know diverse Taverns i'th' Town, that have but a Wall between them and a hothouse. It shall then be given out, that I'm a Gentlewoman of such a birth, such a wealth, have had such a breeding, and so forth, and of such a carriage, and such qualities, and so forth: to set it off the better, old jack Hornet shall take upon him to be my Father.  Lever. 
Excellent, with a chain about his neck and so forth.  Doll. 
For that, Saint Martin's and we will talk: I know we shall have gudgeons bite presently: if they do boys, you shall live like Knights fellows; as occasion serves, you shall wear liveries and wait, but when Gulls are my windfalls, you shall be Gentlemen, and keep them company: seek out jack Hornet incontinently.  Lever. 
we will; come Charely, we'll play our parts I warrant.  Doll. 
Do so:—  
The world's a stage, from which strange shapes we borrow:  
Today we are honest, and rank knaves tomorrow. Exeunt.  Enter Maybery, Bellamont, and a Prentice. May. 
Where is your Mistress, villain? when went she abroad?  Prent. 
Abroad Sir, why assoon as she was up Sir.  May. 
Up Sir, down Sir, so sir: Master Bellamont, I will tell you a strange secret in Nature, this boy is my wives bawd.  Bell. 
O fie sir, fie, the boy he does not look like a Bawd, he has no double chin.  Pren. 
No sir, nor my breath does not stink, I smell not of Garlic or Aquavitae: I use not to be drunk with Sack and Sugar: I swear not God damn me, if I know where the party is, when 'tis a lie and I do know: I was never Carted (but in harvest) never whipped but at School: never had the Grincoms: never sold one Maidenhead ten several times, first to an Englishman, then to a Welshman, then to a Dutchman, then to a pocky Frenchman, I hope Sir I am no Bawd then.  May. 
Thou art a baboon, and hold'st me with tricks, whilst my Wife grafts grafts, away, trudge, run, search her out by land, and by water.  Pren. 
Well Sir, the land I'll ferret, and after that I'll search her by water, for it may be she's gone to Brainford. Exit.  Mayb. 
Inquire at one of mine Ants.  Bell. 
One of your Ants are you mad?  Mayb. 
Yea, as many of the twelve companies are, troubled, troubled.  Bel. 
I'll chide you: go too, I'll chide you soundly.  May. 
Oh master Bellamont!  Bel. 
Oh Master Maybery! before your Servant to dance a Lancashire Hornpipe: it shows worse to me, then dancing does to a deaf man that sees not the fiddles: 'sfoot you talk like a Player.  Mayb. 
If a Player talk like a madman, or a fool, or an Ass, and knows not what he talks, then I'm one: you are a Poet Master Bellamont, I will bestow a piece of Plate upon you to bring my wife upon the Stage, would not her humour please Gentlemen.  Bella. 
I think it would: yours would make Gentlemen as fat as fools: I would give two pieces of Plate, to have you stand by me, when I were to write a jealous man's part: jealous men are either knaves or Coxcombs, be you neither: you wear yellow hose without cause.  May. 
Without cause, when my Mare bears double: without cause?  Bell. 
And without wit.  May. 
When two Virginal jacks skip up, as the key of my instrument goes down!  Bel. 
They are two wicked elders.  May. 
When my wives ring does smoke for't.  Bell. 
Your wives ring may deceive you.  May. 
O Master Bellamont! had it not been my wife had made me a Cuckold, it should never have grieved me.  Bael, 
You wrong her upon my soul.  Mai. 
No, she wrongs me upon her body.  Enter a Servingman. Bel. 
Now blue-bottle? what flutter you for sea-pie?  Ser. 
Not to catch fish Sir, my young Master, your son master Philip is taken prisoner.  Bel. 
By the Dunkirks.  Ser. 
Worse: by catchpoles: he's encountered.  Bel. 
Shall I never see that prodigal come home.  Ser. 
Yes Sir, if you'll fetch him out, you may kill a Calf for him.  Bel. 
For how much lies he?  Ser. 
The debt is four score pound, marry he charged me to tell you it was four score and ten, so that he lies only for the odd ten pound.  Bel. 
His child's part shall now be paid, this money shallbe his last, & this vexation the last of mine: if you had such a son master Maiberie.  Mai. 
To such a wife, 'twere an excellent couple.  Bel. 
Release him, and release me of much sorrow, I will buy a Son no more: go redeem him. Enter Prentice and Maybery's wife.  Prent. 
Here's the party Sir.  Mai. 
Hence, and lock fast the doors, now is my prize.  Prent. 
If she beat you not at your own weapon, would her Buckler were cleft in two pieces. Exit.  Bel. 
I will not have you handle her too roughly.  Mai. 
No, I will like a justice of peace, grow to the point: are not you a whore: never start: thou art a Clothworker, and hast turned me.  Wife. 
How Sir, into what Sir, have I turned you?  May. 
Into a Civil Suit: into a sober beast: a Land-rat, a Cuckold: thou art a common bedfellow, art not? art not?  Wif. 
Sir this Language, to me is strange, I understand it not.  May. 
O! you study the french now.  Wife. 
Good Sir, lend me patience.  May. 
I made a salad of that herb: dost see these flesh-hooks, I could tear out those false eyes, those cat's eyes, that can see in the night: punk I could.  Bel. 
Hear her answer for herself.  Wif. 
Good Master Bellomont,  
Let him not do me violence: dear Sir,  
Should any but yourself shoot out these names,  
I would put off all female modesty,  
To be revenged on him.  May. 
Know'st thou this ring? there has been old running at the ring since I went.  Wife. 
Yes Sir, this ring is mine, he was a villain,  
That stole it from my hand: he was a villain:  
That put it into yours.  May. 
They were no villains,  
When they stood stoutly for me: took your part:  
And stead of colours fought under my sheets.  Wife. 
I know not what you mean.  May. 
They lay with thee: I mean plain dealing.  Wife. 
With me! if ever I had thought unclean,  
In detestation of your nuptial pillow:  
Let Sulphur drop from Heaven, and nail my body  
Dead to this earth: that slave, that damned fury  
(Whose whips are in your tongue to torture me)  
Casting an eye unlawful on my cheek,  
Haunted your threshold daily, and threw forth  
All tempting baits which lust and credulous youth,  
Apply to our frail sex: but those being weak  
The second siege he laid was in sweet words.  Mai. 
And then the breach was made.  Bel. 
Nay, nay, hear all.  Wife. 
At last he takes me sitting at your door,  
Seizes my palm, and by the charm of oaths  
(Back to restore it straight) he won my hand,  
To crown his finger with that hoop of gold.  
I did demand it, but he mad with rage  
And with desires unbridled, fled and vowed,  
That ring should me undo: and now belike  
His spells have wrought on you. But I beseech you,  
To dare him to my face, and in mean time  
Deny me bedroom, drive me from your board,  
Disgrace me in the habit of your slave,  
Lodge me in some uncomfortable vault  
Where neither Sun nor Moon may touch my sight,  
Till of this slander I my soul acquit.  Bel. 
Guiltless upon my soul.  May. 
Troth so think I.  
I now draw in your bow, as I before  
Supposed they drew in mine: my stream of jealousy,  
Ebbs back again, and I that like a horse  
Ran blindfold in a Mill (all in one circle)  
Yet thought I had gone foreright, now spy my error:  
Villains you have abused me, and I vow  
Sharp vengeance on your heads: drive in your tears  
I take your word you're honest, which good men,  
Very good men will scarce do to their wives.  
I will bring home these serpents and allow them,  
The heat of mine own bosom: wife I charge you  
Set out your haviours towards them in such colours,  
As if you had been their whore, I'll have it so,  
I'll candy o'er my words, and sleek my brow,  
Entreat 'em that they would not point at me,  
Nor mock my horns, with this Arm I'll embrace 'em  
And with this— go too.  Wife. 
Oh we shall have murder— you kill my heart.  May. 
No: I will shed no blood,  
But I will be revenged, they that do wrong  
Teach others way to right: I'll fetch my blow  
Fair and afar off and as Fencers use Enter Philip and servant  
Tho at the foot I strike, the head I'll bruise.  Bel. 
I'll join with you: let's walk: oh! here's my Son.  
Welcome ashore Sir: from whence come you pray.  Pil. 
From the house of prayer and fasting— the Counter.  Bel. 
Art not, thou ashamed to be seen come out of a prison.  Pil. 
No Gods my judge, but I was ashamed to go into prison.  Bel. 
I am told sir, that you spend your credit and your coin upon a light woman.  Phil. 
I ha' seen light gold sir, pass away amongst Mercers.  Bel. 
And that you have laid thirty or forty pounds upon her back in taffeta gowns, and silk petticoats.  Phil. 
None but Tailors will say so, I near laid any thing upon her back: I confess I took up a petticoat and a razed forepart for her, but who has to do with that?  May. 
Mary that has everybody Master Philip.  Bel. 
Leave her company, or leave me, for she's a woman of an ill name.  Phil. 
Her name is Dorothy sir, I hope that's no ill name.  Bel. 
What is she? what wilt thou do with her?  Phil. 
'sblood sir what does he with her?  Bel. 
Dost mean to marry her? of what birth is she? what are her comings in, what does she live upon?  Phillip. 
Rents sir, Rents, she lives upon her Rents, and I can have her.  Bel. 
You can.  Phil. 
Nay father, if destiny dog me I must have her: you have often told me the nine Muses are all women, and you deal with them, may not I the better be allowed one than you so many? look you Sir, the Northern man loves white-meats, the Southery man Salads, the Essex man a Calf, the Kentishman a Wagtail, the Lancashire man an Egg-pie, the Welshman Leeks and Cheese, and your Londoners raw Mutton, so Father good-bye, I was borne in London.  Bella. 
Stay, look you Sir, as he that lives upon Salads without Mutton, feeds like an Ox, (for he eats grass you know) yet rises as hungry as an Ass, and as he that makes a dinner of leeks will have lean cheeks, so, thou foolish Londoner, if nothing but raw mutton can diet thee, look to live like a fool and a slave, and to die like a beggar and a knave, come Master Maiberie, farewell boy.  Phil. 
Farewell father Snot— Sir if I have her, I'll spend more in mustard & vinegar in a year, than both you in beef.  Both. 
More saucy knave thou. Exeunt.   

Actus 2. Scena. 1.  Enter Hornet, Doll, Leverpoole and Chartly like servingmen. Horn. 
AM I like a fiddlers base viol (new set up,) in a good case boys? be't neat, is it terse! am I handsome? ha!  Omn. 
Admirable, excellent.  Dol. 
An under sheriff cannot cover a knave more cunningly.  Lever. 
'sfoot if he should come before a Churchwarden, he would make him pew-fellow with a lord's steward at least.  Horn. 
If I had but a staff in my hand, fools would think I were one of Simon and judes gentlemen ushers, and that my apparel were hired: they say three Tailors go to the making up of a man, but I'm sure I had four Tailors and a half went to the making of me thus: this Suit though it ha' been canvased well, yet 'tis no lawsuit, for 'twas dispatched sooner than a posset on a wedding night.  Dol. 
Why I tell thee jack Hornet, if the Devil and all the Brokers in long lane had rifled their wardrobe, they would ha' been damned before they had fitted thee thus.  Horn. 
Punk, I shall be a simple father for you: how does my chain show now I walk.  Dol. 
If thou wert hung in chains, thou couldst not show better.  Chart. 
But how fit our blue-coats on our backs.  Dol. 
As they do upon bankrupt retainers backs at Saint George's feast in London: but at Westminster, It makes 'em scorn the badge of their occupation: there the bragging velure-canioned hobby-horses, prance up and down as if some o' the Tilters had ridden 'em.  Hor. 
Nay 'sfoot, if they be bankrupts, 'tis like some have ridden 'em: and thereupon the citizens Proverb rises, when he says; he trusts to a broken staff.  Doll. 
Hornet, now you play my Father, take heed you be not out of your part, and shame your adopted Daughter.  Horn. 
I will look gravely Doll, (do you see boys) like the foreman of a jury: and speak wisely like a Latin Schoolmaster, and be surly and dogged, and proud like the Keeper of a prison.  Lever. 
You must lie horribly, when you talk of your lands.  Horn. 
No shopkeeper shall out lie me, nay, no Fencer: when I hem boys, you shall duck: when I cough and spit gobbets Doll.  Doll. 
The pox shall be in your lungs Hornet.  Hor. 
No Doll, these with their high shoes shall tread me out.  Doll, 
All the lessons that I ha' pricked out for 'em, is when the Weathercock of my body turns towards them, to stand bare.  Horn. 
And not to be saucy as serving-men are.  Char. 
Come, come, we are no such creatures as you take us for.  Dol 
If we have but good draughts in my peterboat, fresh Salmon you sweet villains shall be no meat with us.  Horn. 
'sfoot nothing moves my choler, but that my chain is Copper: but 'tis no matter, better men than old jack Hornet have rode up Holborn, with as bad a thing about their necks as this: your right whiffler indeed hangs himself in Saint Martin's, and not in Cheapside.  Doll. 
Peace, somebody rings: run both, whilst he has the the rope in's hand if it be a prize, hale him, if a man a war, blow him up, or hang him out at the main yards end.  Horn. 
But what ghost, (hold up my fine Girl) what ghosts haunts thy house?  Doll. 
Oh! why diverse: I have a clothier's Factor or two; a Grocer that would feign Pepper me, a Welsh Captain that lays hard siege, a Dutch Merchant, that would spend all that he's able to make i'th' low countries, but to take measure of my Holland sheets when I lie in 'em: I hear trampling: 'tis my Flemish Hoy.  Enter Leverpoole, Chartly and Hans van Belch. Hans. 
Dar is vor you, and vor you: e'en, twea, dry, vier, and vive skilling, drinks Skellum vysie freeze: nempt, dats v drink gelt.  Lever. 
Till our crowns crack again Master Hans van Belch.  Hans. 
How be't met you, how be't bro? brolick?  Doll. 
Ick vare well God danke you: Nay I'm an apt scholar and can take.  Hans. 
Datt is good, dott is good: Ick can néet stay long: for Ick heben skip come now upon de vater: O mine schoomen vro, we sall dance lanteera, teera, and sing Ick brinks to you min here, van:— what man is dat uro.  Hor. 
Nay pray sir on.  Hans 
Wat honds foot is dat Dorothy.  Doll. 
'tis my father.  Hans. 
Gotts Sacrament! your vader! why seyghen you niet so to me! mine heart 'tis mine all great desire, to call you mine vader ta for Ick love dis schonen vro your dochterkin.  Hor. 
Sir you are welcome in the way of honesty.  Hans. 
Ick bedanck you: Ick heb so ghe founden vader.  Harn. 
What's your name I pray.  Hans. 
Mun nom been Hans van Belch.  Horn. 
Hans Van Belch!  Hans. 
Yau, yau, 'tis so, 'tis so, de drunken man is alteet remember me.  Horn. 
Do you play the merchant, son Belch.  Hans. 
Yau vader: Ick heb de skip swim now upon de vater if you endouty, go up in de little Skip dat go so, and be pulled up to Wapping, Ick shall bear you on my back, and hang you about min neck into min groet Skip.  Horn. 
He Says Doll, he would have thee to Wapping and hang thee.  Doll. 
No Father I understand him, but master Hans, I would not be seen hanging about any man's neck, to be counted his jewel, for any gold.  Horn. 
Is your father living Master Hans.  Hans. 
Yau, yau, min vader heb schonen husen in Ausburgh groet mine hear is mine vaders brother, mine vader heb land, and been full of see, dat is beasts, cattle  Char. 
He's lousy belike.  Hans. 
Min vader been be grotest fooker in all Ausbrough.  Dol. 
The greatest what?  Lever. 
Fooker he says.  Dol. 
Out upon him.  Han. 
Yaw yaw, fooker is en groet min here he's en elderman vane City, gets sacrament, what is de clock? Ick met stay. A watch.  Hor. 
Call his watch before you, if you can.  Doll. 
Her's a pretty thing: do these wheels spin up the hours! what's o'clock.  Han. 
Acht: yaw 'tis acht.  Dol. 
We can hear neither clock, nor jack going, we dwell in such a place that I fear I shall never find the way to Church, because the bells hang so far; Such a watch as this, would make me go down with the Lamb, and be up with the Lark.  Hans. 
Seghen you so, dor it to.  Doll. 
O fie: I do but jest, for in truth I could never abide a watch.  Han. 
Gotts sacrament, Ick niet heb it any more.  Exeunt Leuer-poole and Chartly. Dol. 
another peal! good father launch out this hollander.  Horn. 
Come Master Belch, I will bring you to the waterside, perhaps to Wapping, and there i'll leave you.  Han. 
Ick bedanck you vader. Exit.  Doll. 
They say Whores and bawds go by clocks, but what a Manasses is this to buy twelve hours so dearly, and then be begged out of'em so easily? he'll be out at heels shortly sure for he's out about the clocks already: O foolish young man how dost thou spend thy time?  Enter Leuer-poole first, then Allom and Chartly. Leur. 
Your grocer.  Doll 
Nay 'sfoot, then i'll change my tune: I may cause such leaden-heeled rascals; out of my sight: a knife, a knife I say: O Master Allom, if you love a woman, draw out your knife and undo me, undo me.  Allo. 
Sweet mistress Dorothy, what should you do with a knife, its ill meddling with edge tools, what's the matter Masters! knife God bless us.  Leu. 
'sfoot what tricks at noddy are these.  Do. 
Oh I shall burst, if I cut not my lace: I'm so vexed! my father he's rid to Court: one was about a matter of a 1000. pound weight; and one of his men like a rogue as he is is rid another way for rents, I looked to have had him up yesterday, and up today, and yet he shows not his head; sure he's run away, or robbed & run through; and here was a scrivener but even now, to put my father in mind of a bond, that willbe forfeit this night if the money be not paid Master Allom. Such cross fortune!  Allo. 
How much is the bond?  Chart. 
O rare little villain.  Dol. 
My father could take up, upon the bareness of his word five hundred pound: and five toe.  Allom. 
What is the debt?  Dol. 
But he scorns to be— and I scorn to be—  Allom. 
pray sweet Mistress Dorothy vex not, how much is it?  Dol. 
Alas Master Allom, 'tis but poor fifty pound.  Allo. 
If that be all, you shall upon your word take up so much with me: another time I'll run as far in your books.  Dol. 
Sir, I know not how to repay this kindness: but when my father—  All. 
Tush, tush, 'tis not worth the talking: Just 50 pound? when is it to be paid.  Dol. 
Between one and two.  Loue. 
That's we three.  Allom. 
Let one of your men go along, and I'll send your fifty pound!  Dol. 
You so bind me sir,— go sirrah: Master Allom, I ha' some quinces brought from our house i'th' Country to preserve, when shall we have any good Sugar come over? the wars in Barbary make Sugar at such an excessive rate; you pay sweetly now I warrant, sir do you not.  Al 
You shall have a whole chest of Sugar if you please.  Dol. 
Nay by my faith four or five loves willbe enough, and I'll pay you at my first child Master Allom.  Allom. 
Content i'faith, your man shall bring all under one, i'll borrow a kiss of you at parting.  Enter Captain Jenkins. Dol. 
You shall sir, I borrow more of you. Ex. Allo. & Leu.  Chart. 
Save you Captain.  Dol. 
Welcome good captain Jenkins.  Captain. 
What is he a Barber Surgeon, that dressed your lips so.  Dol. 
A Barber! he's may tailor; I bid him measure how high, he would make the standing collar of my new taffety Gown before, and he as Tailors willbe saucy and liquorish, laid me o'er the lips.  Captain. 
Uds blood i'll lay him cross upon his coxcomb next day.  Dol. 
You know 'tis not for a Gentlewoman to stand with a knave, for a small matter, and so I would not strive with him, only to be rid of him.  Capt. 
If I take Master pricklouse ramping so high again, by this Iron (which is none a God's Angel) i'll make him know how to kiss your blind cheeks sooner: mistress Dorothy Hornet, I would not have you be a hornet, to lick at Cowsherds, but to sting such shreds of rascality: will you sing a Tailor shall have me my joy?  Dol. 
Captain, i'll be led by you in any thing! a tailor! foh.  Capt. 
Of what stature or size have you a stomach to have your husband now?  Dol. 
Of the meanest stature Captain, not a size longer than yourself, nor shorter.  Cap. 
By god, 'tis well said: all your best Captain in the Low-countries are as taller as I: but why of my pitch Mistress Dol?  Dol. 
Because your smallest Arrows fly farthest; ah you little hard-favoured villain, but sweet villain, I love thee because thou'lt draw a my side, hang the rogue that will not fight for a woman.  Cap. 
Uds blood, and hang him for vrse than a rogue that will slash and cut for an oman, if she be a whore.  Dol. 
prithee good Captain Jenkins, teach me to speak some Welsh, methinks a Welshman's tongue is the neatest tongue!—  Cap. 
As any tongue in the urld, unless Cramacrees, that's vrse.  Dol. 
How do you say, I love you with all my heart.  Cap. 
Mi cara whee, en hellon.  Dol. 
Mi cara whee, en hellhound.  Cap. 
hell-hound, o mondu, my cara whee, en hellon.  Dol. 
O, my cara whee en hellon.  Cap. 
Oh! and you went to writing school twenty score year in Wales, by Sesu, you cannot have better utterance, for Welsh.  Dol. 
Come tit me, come that me, come throw a kiss at me, how is that?  Cap. 
By gad I know not, what your tit mees and that mees are, but me uatha— 'sblood I know what kisses be, aswell as I know a Welsh hook, if you will go down with Shropshire carriers, you shall have Welsh enough in your pellies forty weeks.  Dol. 
Say Captain that I should follow your colours into your Country how should I fare there?  Cap. 
Fare? by Sesu, O there is the most abominable seere! and wider silver pots to drink in, and softer beds to lie upon & do our necessary pusines, and fairer houses and parks, & holes for coneys, and more money, besides toasted Sees and buttermilk in North-Wales diggon: beside, haps, & Welsh Freeze, and Goats, and cow-heels, and Metheglin, ouh, it may be set in the chronicles, will you march thither?  Dol. 
Not with your Shropshire carriers, Captain.  Cap. 
Will you go with Captain jenkin and see his cousin Maddoc upon jenkin there, and i'll run headlongs by and by, & batter away money for a new Coach to jolt you in.  Dol. 
Bestow your Coach upon me, & two young white Mares, and you shall see how I'll ride.  Cap. 
Will you? by all the leeks that are worn on Saint davies day I will buy not only a Coach, with four wheels, but also a white Mare and a stone horse too, because they shall traw you, very lustily, as if the devil were in their arses. Exit .How now, more Tailors— Meets Phillip.  Phi. 
How sir; Tailors.  Dol. 
O good Captain, 'tis my Cousin.  Enter Leverpoole at another door. Cap. 
Is he, I will Cozen you then sir too, one day.  Phil. 
I hope sir then to Cozen you too.  Cap. 
By gad I hobe so, farewell Sidanien. Exit.  Lever. 
Her's both money, and sugar.  Dol. 
O sweet villain, set it up. Exit, and Enter presently.  Phil. 
'sfoot, what tame swaggerer was this I met Doll.  Dol. 
A Captain, a Captain: but hast 'scaped the Dunkirks honest Philip? Philip rials are not more welcome: did thy father pay the shot?  Phil. 
He paid that shot, and then shot pistolets into my pockets: hark wench: chinck chink, makes the punk wanton and the bawd to wink. Capers.  Chart. 
O rare music.  Lever. 
Heavenly consort, better than old Moons.  Phil. 
But why? why Dol, go these two like beadles in blue? ha?  Doll. 
There's a moral in that: flay off your skins, you precious Cannibals: O that the Welsh Captain were here again, and a drum with him, I could march now, ran, tan, tan, tara, ran, tan, tan, sirrah Philip has thy father any plate in's house.  Phil. 
Enough to set up a goldsmith's shop.  Dol. 
Canst not borrow some of it? we shall have guests tomorrow or next day and I would serve the hungry ragamuffins in plate, though 'twere none of mine own.  Phil. 
I shall hardly borrow it of him but I could get one of mine Ants, to beat the bush for me, and she might get the bird.  Dol. 
Why pree, let me be one of thine Ants, and do it for me then. As I'm virtuous and a Gentlewoman i'll restore.  Phil. 
Say no more 'tis done.  Dol. 
What manner of man is thy father? 'sfoot i'd fain see the witty Monkey because thou sayst he's a Poet: i'll tell thee, what i'll do: Leverpoole or Chartly, shall like my Gentleman usher go to him, and say such a Lady sends for him, about a sonnet or an epitaph for her child that died at nurse, or for some device about a mask or so; if he comes you shall stand in a corner, and see in what State i'll bear myself: he does not know me, nor my lodging.  Phil. 
No, no.  Doll. 
be't a match Sirs? shall's be merry with him and his muse.  Omn. 
Agreed, any scaffold to execute knavery upon.  Doll. 
I'll send then my vaunt-courier presently: in the mean time, march after the Captain, scoundrels, come hold me up:  

Look how Sabrina sunk i'th' river Severn,  
So will we four be drunk i'th' shipwreck Tavern. Exeunt.   Enter Bellamont, Maybery, and Mistress Maybery. May. 
Come Wife, our two gallants will be here presently: I have promised them the best of entertainment, with protestation never to reveal to thee their slander: I will have thee bear thyself, as if thou madest a feast upon Simon and judes day, to country Gentlewomen, that came to see the Pageant, bid them extremely welcome, though thou wish their throats cut; 'tis in fashion.  Wife 
O God I shall never endure them.  Bell. 
Endure them, you are a fool: make it your case, as it may be many women's of the Freedom; that you had a friend in private, whom your husband should lay to his bosom: and he in requital should lay his wife to his bosom: what treads of the toe, salutations by winks, discourse by bitings of the lip, amorous glances, sweet stolen kisses when your husband's backs turned, would pass between them, bear yourself to Greenshield as if you did love him for affecting you so entirely, not taking any notice of his journey: they'll put more tricks upon you: you told me Greenshield means to bring his Sister to your house, to have her board here.  May. 
Right, she's some cracked demi-culverin, that hath miscarried in service: no matter though it be some charge to me for a time I care not.  Wife 
Lord was there ever such a husband?  May. 
Why, wouldst thou have me suffer their tongues to run at large, in Ordinaries and Cockpits; though the Knaves do lie, I tell you Master Bellamont, lies that come from stern looks, and Satin outsides, and guilt Rapiers also, will be put up and go for currant.  Bell. 
Right sir, 'tis a small spark, gives fire to a beautiful woman's discredit.  May. 
I will therefore use them like informing knaves in this kind, make up their mouths with silver, and after be revenged upon them: I was in doubt I should have grown fat of late: & it were not for law suits: and fear of our wives, we rich men should grow out of all compass: they come, my worthy friends welcome: look my wives colour rises already.  Green. 
You have not made her acquainted with the discovery.  May. 
O by no means: ye see Gentlemen the affection of an old man; I would fain make all whole again. Wife give entertainment to our new acquaintance, your lips wife, any woman may lend her lips without her husband's privity 'tis allowable.  Wife. 
You are very welcome; I think it be near dinner time Gentlemen: I'll will the maid to cover, and return presently.  Bell. 
God's precious why doth she leave them? Exit.  May. 
O I know her stomach: she is but retired into another chamber, to ease her heart with crying a little: it hath ever been her humour, she hath done it 5. or 6. times in a day, when Courtiers have been hear, if any thing hath been out of order, and yet every return laughed and been as merry: & how is it Gentlemen, you are well acquainted with this room, are you not?  Gree. 
I had a delicate banquet once on that table.  May. 
In good time: but you are better acquainted with my bed chamber.  Bell. 
Were the cloth of gold Cushions set forth at your entertainment?  Feth. 
Yes Sir.  May. 
And the cloth of Tissue Valance.  Feth. 
They are very rich ones.  May. 
God refuse me, they are lying Rascals, I have no such furniture.  Green. 
I protest it was the strangest, and yet withal the happiest fortune that we should meet you two at Ware, that ever redeemed such desolate actions: I would not wrong you again for a million of London's.  May. 
No, do you want any money? or if you be in debt, I am a hundredth pound i'th' Subsidy, command me.  Feth. 
Alas good Gentleman; did you ever read of the like patience in any of your ancient Romans?  Bel. 
You see what a sweet face in a Velvet cap can do, your citizens wives are like Partridges, the hens are better than the cocks.  Feth. 
I believe it in troth, Sir you did observe how the Gentlewoman could not contain herself, when she saw us enter.  Bell 
Right.  Feth. 
For thus much I must speak in allowance of her modesty, when I had her most private she would blush extremely.  Bell. 
ay, I warrant you, and ask you if you would have such a great sin lie upon your conscience, as to lie with another man's wife.  Feth. 
Introth she would.  Bell. 
And tell you there were maids enough in london, if a man were so viciously given, whose Portions would help them to husbands though gentlemen gave the first onset.  Feth. 
You are a merry old gentleman in faith Sir: much like to this was her language.  Bell. 
And yet clip you with as voluntary a bosom; as if she had fallen in love with you at some Inns a court revels; and invited you by letter to her lodging.  Fet. 
Your knowledge Sir, is perfect without any information.  May. 
I'll go see what my wife is doing gentlemen, when my wife enters show her this ring; and 'twill quit all suspicion. Exit.  Feth. 
Dost hear Luke Greenshield will thy wife by here presently.  May. 
I left my boy to weight upon her, by this light, I think God provides; for if this citizen had not out of his overplus of kindness proffered her, her diet and lodging under the name of my sister, I could not have told what shift to have made; for the greatest part of my money is revolted; we'll make more use of him, the whoreson rich Innkeeper of Doncaster her father showed himself a rank ostler: to send her up at this time a year; and and by the carrier to, 'twas but a jades trick of him.  Feth. 
But have you instructed her to call you brother.  Green. 
Yes and she'll do it, I left her at bosoms Inn, she'll be here, presently. Enter Maybery.  May. 
Master Greenshield your sister is come; my wife is entertaining her, by the mass I have been upon her lips already, Lady you are welcome, look you master Greenshield, because your sister is newly come out of the fresh air, and that to be pent up in a narrow lodging here i'th' city may offend her health she shall lodge at a garden house of mine in Morefeilds where if it please you and my worthy friend hear to bear her company your several lodgings and joint commons (to the poor ability of a citizen) shallbe provided.  Feth. 
O God Sir.  May. 
Nay no complement your loves command it: shall's to dinner Gentlemen, come master Bellamont I'll be the Gentleman usher to this fair Lady.  Gree. 
Here is your ring Mistress; a thousand times,— and would have willingly lost my best of maintenance that I might have found you hair so tractable.  Wif. 
Sir I am still myself, I know not by what means you have grown upon my husband, he is much deceived in you I take it: will you go in to dinner— O God that I might have my will of him & it were not for my husband i'd scratch out his eyes presently. Ex.  Fet. 
Welcome to London bonny mistress Kate, thy husband little dreams of the familiarity that hath passed between thee & I Kate.  Kate. 
no matter if he did: he ran away from me like a base slave as he was, out of Yorkshire, and pretended he would go the Island voyage, since I near heard of him till within this fortnight: can the world condemn me for entertaining a friend, that am used so like an Infidel?  Fe. 
I think not, but if your husband knew of this he'd be divorced.  Rat. 
He were an ass then, no wisemen should deal by their wives as the sale of ordinance passeth in England, if it break the first discharge the workman is at the loss of it, if the second the Merchant, & the workman jointly, if the third the Merchant, so in our case, if a woman prove false the first year, turn her upon her father's neck, if the second, turn her home to her father but allow her a portion, but if she hold pure metal two year & fly to several pieces, in the third, repair the ruins of her honesty at your charges, for the best piece of ordinance, may be cracked in the casting, and for women to have cracks and slaves, alas they are borne to them, now I have held out four year, doth my husband do any things about London doth he swagger?  Feth. 
O as tame as a fray in Fleetestreet, when their are nobody to part them.  Ra. 
I ever thought so, we have notable valiant fellows about Doncaster, they'll give the lie and the stab both in an instant.  Feth. 
You like such kind of manhood best Kate.  Rat. 
Yes in troth for I think any woman that loves her friend, had rather have him stand by it then lie by it, but I pray thee tell me, why must I be quartered at this citizens garden house, say you.  Fe. 
The discourse of that will set thy blood on fire to be revenged on thy husband's forehead piece. Ent. Bella. & Maist. Maybe.  Wif. 
will you go in to dinner sir?  Rat. 
will you lead the way forsooth?  Wif. 
No sweet forsooth we'll follow you.  
O Master Bellamont: as ever you took pity upon the simplicity of a poor abused gentlewoman: will you tell me one thing.  Bell. 
Any thing sweet Mistress mayberry.  Wife. 
ay but will you do it faithfully?  Bell. 
As I respect your acquaintance I shall do it.  Wife. 
Tell me then I beseech you, do not you think this minx is some naughty pack whom my husband hath fallen in love with, and means to keep under my nose at his garden house.  Bell. 
No upon my life is she not,  Wife. 
O I cannot believe it, I know by her eyes she is not honest, why should my husband proffer them such kindness? that have abused him and me; so intolerable: and will not suffer me to speak; there's the hell on't not suffer me to speak.  Bell. 
Fie fie, he doth that like a usurer, that will use a man with all kindness, that he may be careless of paying his money, upon his day, and afterwards take the extremity of the forfeiture; your jealousy is Idle: say this were true, it lies in the bosom of a sweet wife to draw her husband from any loose imperfection, from wenching, from jealousy, from covetousness from crabbedness, which is the old man's common disease, by her politic yielding.  Bell. 
She may do it from crabbedness, for example I have known as tough blades as any are in England broke upon a featherbed,— come to dinner,  Wife. 
I'll be ruled by you Sir, for you are very like mine uncle.  Bell. 
Suspicion works more mischief grows more strong, To sever chaste beds then apparent wrongs. Exit.   

ACTVS 3. SAENA 1.  Enter Doll, Chartly Leverpoole and Phillip. Phil. 
Come my little Punk with thy two Compositors to this unlawful painting house, thy pounders a my old poetical dad willbe here presently, take up thy State in this chair, and bear thyself as if thou wert talking to thy pothecary after the receipt of a purgation: look scurvily upon him: sometimes be merry and stand upon thy pantofles like a new elected scavenger.  Doll. 
And by and by melancholic like a Tilter that hath broke his staves foul before his Mistress.  Phil. 
Right, for he takes thee to be a woman of a great count: hark upon my life he's come.  Doll. 
See who knocks: thou shalt see me make a fool of a Poet, that hath made five hundred fools.  Lever. 
Please your new Ladyship he's come.  Doll. 
Is he? I should for the more state let him walk some two hours in an utter room: if I did owe him money, 'twere not much out of fashion; but come enter him: Stay, when we are in private conference send in my Tailor.  Enter Bellamont brought in by Leverpoole. Lever. 
Look you my lady's asleep, she'll wake presently.  Bell. 
I come not to teach a Starling sir, Good-bye.  Lever. 
Nay, in truth Sir, if my Lady should but dream you had been hear.  Doll. 
Who's that keeps such a prating?  Lever. 
'Tis I Madam.  Doll. 
I'll have you preferred to be a Crier: you have an exc'llent throat for't: pox o' the Poet is he not come yet?  Lever. 
he's here Madam.  Doll. 
Cry you mercy: I ha' cursed my Monkey for shrewd turns a hundred times, and yet I love it never the worse I protest.  Bel. 
'tis not in fashion dear Lady to call the breaking out of a Gentlewoman's lips, scabs, but the heat of the Liver.  Dol. 
So sir: if you have a sweet breath, and do not smell of sweaty linen, you may draw nearer, nearer.  Pel. 
I am no friend to Garlic Madam.  Doll. 
You write the sweeter verse a great deal sir, I have heard much good of your wit master Poet: you do many devices for citizens wives: I care not greatly because I have a City Laundress already, if I get a City Poet too: I have such a devise for you, and this it is. Enter Tailor .O welcome Tailor: do but wait till I dispatch my Tailor, and I'll discover my device to you.  Bell. 
I'll take my leave of your Ladyship.  Doll. 
No: I pray thee stay: I must have you sweat for my device Master Poet.  Phil. 
He sweats already believe it.  Dol. 
A cup of wine there: what fashion will make a woman have the best body Taylor.  Tay. 
A short dutch waist with a round catherine-wheel farthingale: a close sleeve with a cartoose colour and a piccadill.  Dol. 
And what meat will make a woman have a fine wit Master Poet.  Bel. 
Foul madam is the most light, delicate, & witty feeding.  Dol. 
Foul sayst thou: I know them that feed of it every meal, and yet are as arrant fools as any are in a kingdom of my credit: hast thou done Taylor? now to discover my device sir: I'll drink to you sir.  Phil. 
God's precious, we near thought of her device before, pray god it be any thing tolerable.  Dol. 
I'll have you make 12. poesies for a dozen of cheese trenchers.  Phil. 
O horrible!  Bel. 
In Welsh madam?  Dol. 
Why in Welsh sir.  Bel. 
Because you will have them served in with your cheese Lady.  Dol. 
I will bestow them indeed upon a Welsh Captain: one that loves cheese better than venison, for if you should but get 3. or 4. Cheshire cheeses and set them a running down Highgate-hill, he would make more haste after them than after the best kennel of hounds in England; what think you of my device?  Bel. 
Fore-god a very strange device and a cunning one.  Phil. 
Now he begins to eye the goblet.  Bel. 
You should be a kin to the Bellamonts, you give the same Arms madam.  Dol. 
Faith I paid sweetly for the cup, as it may be you and some other Gentleman have done for their Arms.  Bel. 
Ha, the same weight: the same fashion: I had three nest of them given me, by a Nobleman at the christening of my son Philip.  Phil. 
Your son is come to full age sir: and hath ta'en possession of the gift of his Godfather.  Bel. 
Ha, thou wilt not kill me.  Phil. 
No sir, i'll kill no Poet lest his ghost write satires against me.  Bel. 
What's she? a good common wealths woman, she was borne.  Phil. 
For her Country, and has borne her Country.  Bel. 
Heart of virtue? what make I here?  Phil. 
This was the party you railed on: I keep no worse company than yourself father, you were wont to say venery is like usury that it may be allowed though it be not lawful.  Bael 
Wherefore come I hither.  Dol. 
To make a device for cheese-trenchers.  Phil. 
I'll tell you why I sent for you, for nothing but to show you that your gravity may be drawn in: white hairs may fall into the company of drabs as well as red beards into the society of knaves: would not this woman deceive a whole camp i'th' Low-countries, and make one Commander believe she only kept her cabin for him, and yet quarter twenty more in't.  Dol. 
Pree the what dost thou think of me.  Bel. 
I think thou art a most admirable, brave, beautiful Whore.  Dol. 
Nay sir, I was told you would rail: but what do you think of my device sir, nay: but you are not to depart yet Master Poet: wilt sup with me? I'll cashier all my young barnacles, & we'll talk over a piece of mutton and a partridge, wisely.  Bel. 
Sup with thee that art a common undertaker? thou that dost promise nothing but watchet eyes, bombast calves and false periwigs.  Dol. 
prithee comb thy beard with a comb of black lead, it may be I shall affect thee.  Bel. 
O thy unlucky star! I must take my leave of your worship I cannot fit your device at this instant: I must desire to borrow a nest of goblets of you: O villainy! I would some honest Butcher would beg all the queans and knaves i'th' City and carry them into some other Country they'd sell better than beeves and Calves: what a virtuous City would this be then! mary I think there would be a few people left in't, uds foot, gulled with Cheese-trenchers and yoked in entertainment with a tailor? good, good. Exit.  Phil. 
How dost Doll?  Doll. 
Scurvy, very scurvy.  Lever. 
Where shall's sup wench?  Doll. 
I'll sup in my bed: get you home to your lodging and come when I send for you, o filthy rogue that I am.  Phil. 
How! how, mistress Dorothy?  Dol. 
Saint Antony's fire light in your Spanish slops: uds life, ille make you know a difference, between my mirth and melancholy, you panderly rogue.  Om. 
We observe your Ladyship.  Phi. 
The punks in her humer— pax. Exit.  Dol. 
I'll humour you and you pox me: uds life have I lain with a Spaniard of late, that I have learned to mingle such water with my Malago, Other's some scurvy thing or other breeding; how many several loves of Players of Vaulters, of Lieutenants have I entertained besides a runner o' the ropes, and now to let blood when the sign is at the heart? should I send him a letter with some jewel in't, he would requite it as lawyers do, that re-return a woodcock pie to their clients, when they send them a Basin and a Ewer, I will instantly go and make myself drunk, till I have lost my memory, live a scoffing Poet? Exit.  Enter Leapfrog and Squirill. Frog. 
Now Squirrel wilt thou make us acquainted with the jest thou promised to tell us of?  Squi. 
I will discover it, not as a Derbyshire women discovers her great teeth, in laughter: but softly as a gentleman courts a wench behind an Arras: and this it is, young Greenshield thy Master with Greenshield's sister lie in my masters garden-house here in morefield's.  Frog. 
Right, what of this?  Squir 
Mary sir if the Gentlewoman be not his wife, he commits incest, for I'm sure he lies with her every night.  Fro. 
All this I know, but to the rest.  Squir. 
I will tell thee, the most politic trick of a woman, that ere made a man's face look withered and pale like the tree in Cuckold's Haven in a great snow: and this it is, my mistress makes her husband believe that she walks in her sleep a-nights, and to confirm this belief in him, sundry times she hath risen out of her bed, unlocked all the doors, gone from Chamber to Chamber, opened her chests, toused among her linen, & when he hath waked & missed her, coming to question why she conjured thus at midnight, he hath found her fast asleep, mary it was cat's sleep, for you shall hear what prey she watched for.  Frog. 
Good; forth.  Squir. 
I overheard her last night talking with thy Master, and she promised him that assoon as her husband was asleep, she would walk according to her custom, and come to his Chamber, marry she would do it so pruitanically, so secretly I mean that nobody should hear of it.  Frog. 
be't possible?  Squir. 
Take but that corner and stand close, and thine eyes shall witness it.  Frog. 
O intolerable wit, what hold can any man take of a woman's honesty.  Squi. 
Hold? no more hold then of a Bull nointed with Soap, and baited with a shoal of Fiddlers in Staffordshire: stand close I hear her coming. Enter Kate.  Kate. 
What a filthy knave was the shoemaker, that made my slippers, what a creaking they keep: O Lord, if there be any power that can make a woman's husband sleep soundly at a pinch, as I have often read in foolish Poetry that there is, now, now, and it be thy will, let him dream some fine dream or other, that he's made a Knight, or a Nobleman, or somewhat whilst I go and take but two kisses, but two kisses from sweet Fetherstone. Exit.  Squi. 
'sfoot he may well dream he's made a Knight: for I'll be hanged if she do not dub him.  Green. 
Was there ever any walking spirit, like to my wife? what reason should there be in nature for this; I will question some physician: not hear neither: udslife, I would laugh if she were in Master Fetherstone's Chamber, she would fright him, Master Fetherstone, Master Fetherstone.  Within Fether. 
Ha, how now who calls?  Green. 
Did you leave your door open last night?  Feth. 
I know not, I think my boy did.  Green. 
God's light she's there then, will you know the jest, my wife hath her old tricks, I'll hold my life, my wife's in your chamber, rise out of your bed, and see and you can feel her.  Squi. 
He will feel her I warrant you?  Gree. 
Have you her sir?  Feth. 
Not yet sir, she's here sir.  Enter Fetherstone and Kate in his arms. Green. 
So I said even now to myself before God la: take her up in your arms, and bring her hither softly, for fear of waking her: I never knew the like of this before God la, alas poor Kate, look before God; she's asleep with her eyes open: pretty little rogue, I'll wake her, and make her ashamed of it.  Feth. 
O you'll make her sicker then.  Green. 
I warrant you; would all women thought no more hurt than thou dost, now sweet villain, Kate, Kate.  Kate. 
I longed for the merry thought of a pheasant.  Green. 
She talks in her sleep.  Kate. 
And the foul-gutted tripewife had got it, & eat half of it: and my colour went and came, and my stomach wambled: till I was ready to sound, but a Midwife perceived it, and marked which way my eyes went; and helped me to it, but Lord how I picked it, 'twas the sweetest meat methought.  Squi. 
O politic Mistress.  Green. 
Why Kate, Kate?  Kate. 
Ha, ha, ha, I beshrew your heart, Lord where am I?  Green. 
I pray thee be not frighted.  Kate. 
O I am sick, I am sick, I am sick, O how my flesh trembles: oh some of the Angelica water, I shall have the Mother presently.  Gree. 
Hold down her stomach good master Fetherstone, while I fetch some. Exit.  Feth. 
Well dissembled Kate.  Kate. 
Pish, I am like some of your Ladies that can be sick when they have no stomach to lie with their husbands.  Feth. 
What mischievous fortune is this: we'll have a journey to Ware Kate, to redeem this misfortune.  Kate. 
Well, Cheaters do not win all ways: that woman that will entertain a friend, must as well provide a Closet or back-door for him, as a Featherbed.  Feth. 
Be my troth I pity thy husband.  Kate. 
Pity him, no man dares call him Cuckold; for he wears Satin: pity him, he that will pull down a man's sign, and set up horns, there's law for him.  Feth. 
Be sick again, your husband comes.  Enter Greeneshield with a broken shin. Green. 
I have the worst luck; I think I get more bumps and shrewd turns i'th' dark, how does she master Fetherstone.  Feth. 
Very ill sir; she's troubled with the mother extremely, I held down her belly even now, and I might feel it rise.  Kate. 
O lay me in my bed, I beseech you.  Gree. 
I will find a remedy for this walking, if all the Doctors in town can sell it; a thousand pound to a penny she spoil not her face, or break her neck, or catch a cold that she may near claw off again, how dost wench?  Kate. 
A little recovered; alas I have so troubled that Gentleman.  Feth. 
None i'th' world Kate, may I do you any farther service.  Kate. 
And I were where I would be in your bed: pray pardon me, was't you Master Fetherstone, hem, I should be well then.  Squi. 
Mark how she wrings him by the fingers.  Kate. 
Good night, pray you give the Gentleman thanks for patience.  Green. 
Good night Sir.  Feth. 
You have a shrewd blow, you were best have it searched.  Green. 
A scratch, a scratch. Exit.  Feth 
Let me see what excuse should I frame, to get this wench forth a town with me: I'll persuade her husband to take Physic, and presently have a letter framed, from his father in law, to be delivered that morning for his wife, to come and receive some small parcel of money in Enfield chase, at a keeper's that is her Uncle, than sir he not being in case to travel, will entreat me to accompany his wife, we'll lie at Ware all night, and the next morning to London, I'll go strike a Tinder, and frame a Letter presently. Exit.  Squi. 
And I'll take the pains to discover all this to my master old Maybery, there hath gone a report a good while, my Master hath used them kindly, because they have been over familiar with his wife, but I see which way Fetherstone looks. 'sfoot there's near a Gentleman of them all shall gull a Citizen, & think to go scotfree: though your commons shrink for this be but secret, and my Master shall entertain thee, make thee instead of handling false Dice, finger nothing but gold and silver wag, an old serving-man turns to a young beggar, whereas a young Prentice may turn to an old Alderman, willt be secret?  Leap. 
O God sir, as secret as rushes in an old ladies Chamber. Exit.   

ACTVS 4. SCENA 1.  Enter Bellamont in his Nightcap, with leaves in his hand, his man after him with lights, Standish and Paper. Bel. 
Sirrah, I'll speak with none.  Seru. 
Not a player:  Bel. 
No though a Sharer ball,  
I'll speak with none although it be the mouth  
Of the big company, I'll speak with none,— away.  
Why should not I be an excellent statesman? I can in the writing of a tragedy, make Caesar speak better than ever his ambition could: when I write of Pompey I have Pompey's soul within me, and when I personate a worthy Poet, I am then truly myself, a poor unpreferred scholar.  Enter his Man hastily. Servant 
Here's a swaggering fellow sir, that speaks not like a man of gods making, swears he must speak with you and will speak with you.  Bael 
Not of gods making what is he? a Cuckold?  Seru. 
He's a Gentleman sir, by his clothes.  Bel. 
Enter him and his clothes: clothes sometimes are better Gentlemen than their Masters. Ent. the Captain & the Ser. is this he? Seek you me sir.  Cap. 
I seek sir, (god plesse you) for a Sentillman, that talks beside to himself when he's alone, as if he were in Bedlam, and he's a Poet.  Bel. 
So sir it may be you seek me, for I'm sometimes out o' my wits.  Cap. 
You are a Poet sir, are you.  Bel. 
I'm haunted with a Fury Sir.  Cap. 
Pray Master Poet shoot off this little potgun, and I will conjure your Fury: 'tis well lay you sir, my desires are to have some amiable and amorous sonnet or madrigal composed by your Fury, see you.  Bel. 
Are you a lover sir of the nine Muses.  Cap. 
Owe, by gad out a cry.  Cap. 
You're then a scholar sir.  Cap. 
I ha' picked up my crumbs in Jesus college in Oxford one day a gad while ago.  Bel. 
You're welcome you're very welcome, I'll borrow your judgement look you sir, I'm writing a Tragedy, the Tragedy of young Astyanax.  Cap. 
Styanax Tragedy is he living can you tell? was not Stianax a mammoth man?  Bel. 
O no sir, you mistake, he was a Trojan great Hector's Son.  Cap. 
Hector was grannam to Cadwallader, when she was great with child, god udge me, there was one young Styanan of Monmouthshire was a madder greek as any is in all England.  Bel. 
This was not he assure ye: look you sir, I will have this Tragedy presented in the French Court, by French Gallants.  Cap. 
By god your Frenchmen will do a Tragedy interlude, poggy well.  Bel. 
It shallbe sir at the marriages of the Duke of Orleans, and Chatilion the admiral of France, the stage.  Cap. 
Uds blood, does Orleans marry with the Admiral of France now.  Bael 
O sir no, they are two several marriages. As I was saying the stage hung all with black velvet, and while 'tis acted, myself will stand behind the Duke of Biron, or some other chief minion or so,— who shall, I they shall take some occasion about the music of the fourth Act, to step to the French King, and say, Sire, voyla, il et votre tres-humble seruiteur, le plus sage, è divino espirit, monsieur Bellamont, all in French thus pointing at me, or you is the learned old English Gentleman Master Bellamont a very worthy man, to be one of your privy Chamber, or Poet laureate.  Cap. 
But are you sure Duke pepper-noon will give you such good urds, behind your back to your face.  Bel. 
Oh ay, ay, I man, he's the only courtier that I know there: but what do you think that I may come to by this.  Cap. 
God udge me, all France may hap die in your debt for this.  Bael 
I am now writing the description of his death.  Cap. 
Did he die in his ped.  Bel. 
You shall hear: suspicion is the Minion of great hearts, no: I will not begin there: Imagine a great man were to be executed about the 7. hour in a gloomy morning.  Capt. 
As it might be Sampson or so, or great Golias that was killed by my Countryman.  Bel. 
Right sir, thus I express it in young Astyanax.  
Now the wild people greedy of their griefs,  
Longing to see, that which their thoughts abhorred,  
Prevented day, and rod on their own roofs.  Cap. 
Could the little horse that ambled on the top of Paulest carry all the people; else how could they ride on the roofs!  Bel. 
O sir, 'tis a figure in Poetry, mark how 'tis followed,  
Rod on their own roofs,  
Making all Neighbouring houses tilled with men; tiled with men ist not good.  Cap. 
By Sesu, and it were tiled all with naked Imen 'twere better.  Bel. 
You shall hear no more; pick your ears, they are foul sir, what are you sir pray?  Cap. 
A Captain sir, and a follower of god Mars.  Bel. 
Mars, Bacchus, and I love Apollo! a Captain! then I pardon your sir, and Captain what would you press me for?  Cap. 
For a witty ditty, to a gentlewoman, that I am fallen in with all, over head and ears in affections, and natural desires.  Bel. 
An Acrostic were good upon her name methinks.  Cap. 
cross sticks: I would not be too cross Master Poet; yet if it be best to bring her name in question, her name is mistress Dorothy Hornet.  Bel. 
The very consumption that wastes my Son, and the Aim that hung lately upon me: do you love this Mistress Dorothy?  Cap. 
Love her! there is no captains wife in England, can have more love put upon her, and yet I'm sure Captains wives, have their pellies full of good men's loves.  Be. 
And does she love you? has there passed any great matter between you?  Cap. 
As great a matter, as a whole coach, and a horse and his wife are gone to and fro between us.  Bel. 
Is she? i'faith Captain, be valiant and tell truth, is she honest?  Cap. 
Honest? god udge me, she's as honest, as a Punk, that cannot abide fornication, and lechery.  Bel. 
Look you Captain, I'll show you why I ask, I hope you think my wenching days are past, yet Sir, here's a letter that her father, brought me from her and enforced me to take this very day. Enter a Servant and Whispers.  Cap. 
'tis for some love— song to send to me, I hold my life.  Bel. 
This falls out pat, my man tells me, the party is at my door, shall she come in Captain?  Cap. 
O ay, ay, put her in, put her in I pray now. Exit Seru.  Bel. 
The letter says here, that she's exceeding sick, and entreats me to visit her: Captain, lie you in ambush behind the hangings, and perhaps you shall hear the piece of a Comedy: she comes, she comes, make yourself away.  Cap. 
Does the Poet play Torkin and cast my Lucretia's water too in huggermuggers? if he do, Styanax Tragedy was never so horrible bloody-minded, as his Comedy shallbe,— Tawson's Captain jenkin's. Enter Doll.  Dol. 
Now Master Poet, I sent for you.  Bel. 
And I came once at your ladyships call.  Dol. 
My Ladyship and your Lordship lie both in one manner; you have conjured up a sweet spirit in me have you not rhymer?  Bel. 
Why Medea! what spirit! would I were a young man for thy sake.  Dol. 
So would I, for then thou couldst do me no hurt; now thou dost.  Bel. 
If I were a younker, it would be no immodesty in me to be seen in thy company; but to have snow in the lap of june; vile! vile: yet come; garlic has a white head, and a green stalk, then why should not I? let's be merry: what says the devil to all the world, for I'm sure thou art carnally possessed with him.  Dol. 
Thou hast a filthy foot, a very filthy carriers foot.  Bel. 
A filthy shoe, but a fine foot, I stand not upon my foot I.  Cap. 
What stands he upon then? with a pox god bless us?  Doll. 
A leg and a Calf! I have had better of a butcher forty times for carrying a body! not worth begging by a Barber-surgeon.  Bel. 
Very good, you draw me and quarter me, fates keep me from hanging.  Dol. 
And which most turns up a woman's stomach, thou art an old hoary man: thou hast gone over the bridge of many years, and now art ready to drop into a grave: what do I see then in that withered face of thine?  Bell. 
Wrinkles: gravity.  Doll. 
Wretchedness: grief: old fellow thou hast be witch me; I can neither eat for thee, nor sleep for thee, nor lie quietly in my bed for thee.  Cap. 
Uds blood! I did never see a white flea before I will cling you?  Doll. 
I was borne sure in the dog days I'm so unlucky; ay, in whom neither a flaxen hair, yellow beard, French doublet, nor Spanish hose, youth nor parsonage, rich face nor money cold ever breed a true love to any, ever to any man, am now besotted, dote, am mad, for the carcase of a man, and as if I were a bawd, no ring pleases me but a death's head.  Cap. 
Sesu, are I men so arsy-varsy.  Bell. 
Mad for me? why if the worm of lust were wriggling within me as it does in others, dost think I'd crawl upon thee; would I low after thee, that art a common calf-bearer.  Doll. 
I confess it.  Cap. 
Do you, are you a town cow and confess you bear calves.  Doll. 
I confess, I have been an Inn for any guest.  Cap. 
A pogs a your stable-room; is your Inn a bawdy house now?  Doll. 
I confess (for I ha' been taught to hide nothing from my surgeon and thou art he) I confess that old stinking Surgeon like thyself) whom I call father, that Hornet never sweat for me, I'm none of his making.  Cap. 
You lie he makes you a punk Hornet minor.  Dol. 
he's but a cheater, and I the false die he plays withal, I power all my poison out before thee, because hereafter I will be clean: shun me not, loathe me not, mock me not, plagues confound thee, I hate thee to the pit of hell, yet if thou goest thither, i'll follow thee, run, aid do what thou canst, i'll run and ride over the world after thee.  Cap. 
Cockatrice: you mistress Salamanders that fear no burning, let my mare and my mare's horse, and my coach come running home again and run to an hospital, and your Surgeons, and to knaves and panders and to the tiuell and his tame to.  Doll. 
Fiend art thou razed to torment me.  Bel. 
she loves you Captain honestly.  Cap. 
I'll have any man, oman or child by his ears, that says a common drab can love a Sentillman honestly, I will sell my Coach for a cart to have you to punk's hall, Pridewell, I sarge you in Apollo's name, whom you belong to, see her forthcoming, till I come and tiggle her, by and by, 'sblood I was never cozened with a more rascal piece of mutton, since I came out o' the Lawer Countries. Exit.  Bel. 
My doors are open for thee, be gone: woman!  Doll. 
This goats— pizzle of thine—  Bel. 
Away: I love no such implements in my house.  Dol. 
Dost not? am I but an implement? by all the maidenheads that are lost in London in a year (& that's a great oath) for this trick, other manner of women than myself shall come to this house only to laugh at thee; and if thou wouldst labour thy heart out, thou shalt not do withal. Exit. Enter Servant.  Bel. 
Is this my Poetical fury? how now sir!  Ser. 
Master Maybery and his wife sir i'th' next room.  Bel. 
What are they doing sir?  Ser. 
Nothing sir, that I see, but only would speak with you.  Bel. 
Enter 'em: this house willbe too hot for me, if this wench cast me into these sweats, I must shift myself, for pure necessity, haunted with sprites in my old days!  Enter Maybery booted, his Wife with him. May. 
A Comedy, a Canterbury tale smells not half so sweet as the Comedy I have for thee old Poet: thou shalt write upon't Poet.  Bel. 
Nay I will write upon't if't be a Comedy, for I have been at a most villainous female Tragedy: come, the plot, the plot.  May. 
Let your man give you the boots presently, the plot lies in Ware my white Poet: Wife thou and I this night, will have mad sport in Ware, mark me well Wife, in Ware.  Wif. 
At your pleasure sir.  May. 
Nay it shallbe at your pleasure Wife: look you sir, look you: Fetherstone's boy (like an honest crack-halter) laid open all to one of my prentices, (for boys you know like women love to be doing.)  Bel. 
Very good: to the plot.  May. 
Fetherstone like a crafty muttonmonger, persuades Greenshield to be run through the body.  Bell. 
Strange! through the body?  May. 
I man, to take physic: he does so, he's put to his purgation; then sir what does me Fetherstone, but counterfeits a letter from an Innkeeper of Doncaster, to fetch Greenshield (who is needy you know) to a keeper's lodge in Enfield-Chase, a certain Uncle, where Greenshield should receive money due to him in behalf of his wife.  Bell. 
His wife! is Greenshield married? I have heard him swear he was a bachelor.  Wife. 
So have I a hundred times.  May. 
The knave has more wives than the Turk, he has a wife almost in every shire in England, this parcel Gentlewoman is that Innkeepers Daughter of Doncaster.  Bel. 
Hath she the entertainment of her forefathers? will she keep all comers company?  May. 
She help's to pass away stale Capons, sour wine, and musty provender: but to the purpose, this train was laid by the baggage herself and Fetherstone, who it seems makes her husband a unicorn: and to give fire to't, Greenshield like an Arrant wittal entreats his friend, to ride before his wife, and fetch the money, because taking bitter pills, he should prove but a loose fellow if he went, and so durst not go.  Bell. 
And so the poor Stag is to be hunted in Enfield-Chase  May. 
No sir, Master poet there you miss the plot. Fetherstone and my Lady Greenshield are rid to batter away their light commodities in Ware, Enfield-Chase is too cold for 'em.  Bell. 
In Ware!  May 
In dirty Ware: I forget myself wise, on with your riding suit and cry Northward hoe, as the boy at Paul's says, let my Prentice get up before thee, and man thee to Ware, lodge in the inn I told thee, spur cut and away.  Wife. 
Well sir. Exit.  Bell. 
Stay, stay, what's the bottom of this riddle? why send you her away?  May. 
For a thing my little hoary Poet: look thee, I smelled out my noble stinker Greenshield in his Chamber, and as though my heart strings had been cracked, I wept, and sighed, & thumped, and thumped, and raved and ranted, and railed, and told him how my wife was now grown as common as bribery, and that she had hired her tailor to ride with her to Ware, to meet a Gentleman of the Court.  Bel. 
Good; and how took he this drench down.  May. 
Like Eggs and Muscadine, at a gulp: he cries out presently, did not I tell you old man, that she'd win my game when she came to bearing? he rails upon her, will me to take her in the Act; to put her to her white sheet, to be divorced, and for all his guts are not fully scoured by his pothecary, he's pulling on his boots, & will ride along with us; let's muster as many as we can.  Bel. 
It willbe excellent sport, to see him and his own wife meet in Ware, wilt not? ay, ay, we'll have a whole Regiment of horse with us.  May. 
I stand upon thorns, tell I shake him bith' horns: come, boots boy, we must gallop all the way, for the Sin you know is done with turning up the white of an eye, will you join your forces.  Bel. 
Like a Hollander against a Dunkirk.  May. 
March then, this curse is on all lechers thrown,  
They give horns and at last, horns are their own. Exit.  Enter Captain jenkin's, and Allom. Cap. 
Set the best of your little diminutive legs before, and ride post I pray.  Allo. 
Is it possible that mistress Doll should be so bad?  Cap. 
Possible! 'sblood 'tis more easy for an oman to be nought, than for a soldier to beg, and that's horrible easy, you know.  Al. 
ay but to coney-catch us all so grossly.  Cap. 
Your Norfolk tumblers are but zanies to coney-catching punks.  Allom. 
she gelded my purse of fifty pounds in ready money.  Cap. 
I will geld all the horses in five hundred shires, but I will ride over her, and her cheaters, and her Hornets; She made a stark Ass of my Coach-horse, and there is a butterbox, whom she spread thick upon her white bread, and eat him up, I think she has sent the poor fellow to Gilderland, but I will mars pravely in and out, and pack again upon all the low countries in Christendom, as Holland and Zeland and netherlands, and Cleveland too, and I will be drunk and cast with master Hans van Belch, but I will smell him out.  Allom. 
Do so and we'll draw all our arrows of revenge up to the head but we'll hit her for her villainy.  Cap. 
I will traw as better, and as vrse weapons as arrows up to the head, lug you, it shallbe warrants to give her the whip deedle.  Allom. 
But now she knows she's discovered, she'll take her bells and fly out of our reach.  Cap. 
Fie with her bells! 'ounds I know a parish that shall tag down all the bells and sell 'em to Captain jenkens, to do him good. and if pelle will fly, we'll fly too, unless, the pell-ropes hang us: will you amble up and down to master justice by my side, to have this rascal Hornet in corum, and so, to make her hold her whore's peace.  Allom. 
I'll amble or trot with you Captain: you told me, she threatened her champions should cut for her, if so, we may have the peace of her.  Cap. 
O mon du! u dguin! follow your leader, Ienken shall cut, and Slice, as worse as they: come I scorn to have any peace of her, or of any woman, but open wars. Exeunt.  Enter Bellamont, Maybery, Greensheild, Phillip, Levarpoole, Chartley: all booted. Bell. 
What? will these young Gentlemen to help us to catch this fresh Salmon, ha! Philip! are they thy friends.  Phil. 
Yes Sir.  Bell. 
We are beholding to you Gentlemen that you'll fill our consort I ho seen your faces methinks before; and I cannot inform myself where.  Both, 
May be so Sir.  Bell. 
Shalls to horse, here's a tickler: heigh: to horse.  May. 
Come Switts and Spurs! let's mount our Chevals: merry quoth a.  Bell. 
Gentlemen shall I shoot a fools bolt out among you all, because we'll be sure to be merry.  Omn. 
What be't?  Bell. 
For mirth on the high way, will make us rid ground faster than if thieves were at our tails, what say ye to this, let's all practise jests one against another, and he that has the best jest thrown upon him, and is most galled, between our riding forth and coming in, shall bear the charge of the whole journey.  Omn. 
Content i'faith.  Bell. 
we shall fit one a you with a Coxcomb at Ware I believe.  May. 
Peace.  Green. 
be't a wreath.  Omn. 
And hands clapped upon it.  Bel. 
Stay, yonder's the Dolphin without Bishopsgate, where our horses are at rack and manger, and we are going past it: come cross over: and what place is this?  May. 
Bedlam be't not?  Bel. 
Where the madmen are, I never was amongst them, as you love me Gentlemen, let's see what Greeks are within.  Green. 
we shall stay too long.  Bell. 
Not a whit, Ware will stay for our coming I warrant you: come a spurt and away, let's be mad once in our days: this is the door. Enter full-moon.  May, 
Save you sir, may we see some a your mad-folks, do you keep 'em?  Full. 
Yes.  Bell. 
Pray bestow your name sir upon us.  Full. 
My name is Full-moon.  Bell. 
You well deserve this office good master Full-moon: and what madcaps have you in your house,  Enter the Physician. Ful. 
diverse.  May. 
God's so, see, see, what's he walks yonder, is he mad.  Full. 
That's a Musician, yes he's beside himself.  Bell. 
A Musician, how fell he mad for God's sake?  Ful. 
For love of an Italian Dwarf.  Bell. 
Has he been in Italy then?  Full. 
Yes and speaks they say all manner of languages.  Enter the Bawd. Omn. 
God's so, look, look, what's she.  Bell. 
The dancing Bear: a pretty well-favoured little woman.  Full. 
They say, but I know not, that she was a Bawd, and was frighted out of her wits by fire,  Bel. 
May we talk with 'em master Full-moon  Full. 
Yes and you will; I must look about for I have unruly tenants. Exit.  Bell. 
What have you in this paper honest friend?  'gree 
Is this he has all manner of languages, yet speaks none  Baud. 
How do you Sir Andrew, will you send for some aquavit for me, I have had no drink never since the last great rain that fell.  Bel. 
No that's a lie.  Baud. 
Nay By gad, than you lie, for all you're Sir Andrew, I was a dapper rogue in Portingale voyage, not an inch broad at the heel, and yet thus high, I scorned I can tell you to be drunk with rain water then Sir, In those golden and silver days: I had sweet bits then Sir Andrew: how do you good brother Timothy?  Bella. 
You have been in much trouble since that voyage.  Baud. 
Never in Bridewell I protest, as I'm a virgin: for I could never abide that Bridewell I protest, I was once sick, and I took my water in a basket, and carried it to a doctor's.  Phil. 
In a basket.  Baud. 
Yes Sir: you arrant fool there was a urinal in it.  Phil. 
I cry you mercy.  Baud. 
The Doctor told me I was with child, how many Lords Knights, Gentlemen, Citizens, and others promised me to be godfathers to that child: 'twas not God's will: the prentices made a riot upon my glass-windows the Shrove-tuesday following and I miscarried.  Omn. 
O do not weep.  Baud. 
I ha' cause to weep: I trust gentlewomen their diet sometimes a fortnight: lend Gentlemen holland shirts, and they sweat 'em out at tennis: and no restitution, and no restitution. but I'll take a new order, I will have but six stewed prunes in a dish and some of mother Walls cakes: for my best customers are tailors.  Omn. 
tailors! ha ha.  Baud. 
I tailors: give me your London Prentice; your country Gentlemen are grown too politic.  Bel. 
But what say you to such young Gentlemen as these are.  Baud. 
Foh, they as soon as they come to their lands get up to London, and like squibs that run upon lines, they keep a Spitting of fire, and cracking till they ha' spent all, and when my squib is out, what says his punk, foh, he stinks.  Enter the musician. 

methought this other night, I saw a pretty sight,  
Which pleased me much.  
A comely country maid, not squeamish nor afraid,  
To let Gentlemen touch.  
I sold her maidenhead once, and I sold her maidenhead twice,  
And I sold it last to an Alderman of York.  
And then I had sold it thrice.   Musi. 
You sing scurvily.  Baud. 
mary muff, sing thou better, for I'll go sleep my old sleeps. Exit.  Bell. 
What are you a doing my friend.  Musi. 
Pricking, pricking.  Bell. 
What do you mean by pricking?  Musi. 
A Gentleman like quality.  Bell. 
This fellow is some what prouder, and sullener than the other.  May, 
Oh; so be most of your musicians.  Musi. 
Are my teeth rotten?  Omn. 
No Sir.  Musi. 
Then I am no Comfit-maker, nor Vintner, I do not get wenches in my drink: are you a musician?  Bel. 
Yes.  Mu. 
we'll be sworn brothers then, look you sweet rogue.  Gree. 
God's so, now I think upon't, a jest is crept into my head, steal away, if you love me. Exeunt: musician sings.  Musi. 
Was ever any merchants band set better I set it: walk I'm a cold, this white satin is too thin unless it be cut, for then the Sun enters: can you speak Italian too, Sapete Italiano.  Bell. 
un poco.  Musi. 
'sblood if it be in you, I'll poike it out if you; un poco, come March lie hear with me but till the fall of the lease, and if you have but poco Italiano in you, I'll fill you full of more poco March.  Bell. 
Come on. Exeunt.  Enter Maybery, Greenshield, Phillip. full-moon. Leverpoole, and Chartely. Gree. 
Good Master mayberry, Philip, if you be kind Gentlemen uphold the jest: your whole voyage is paid for.  May. 
Follow it then.  Ful. 
The old Gentleman say you, why he talked even now as well in his wits as I do myself, and looked as wisely.  Gree. 
No matter how he talks, but his Pericranion's perished.  Ful. 
Where is he pray?  Phil. 
Mary with the Musician, and is madder by this time  Char. 
he's an excellent Musician himself, you must note that.  May. 
And having met one fit for his one tooth: you see he skips from us.  Green. 
The troth is master Full-moon, divers trains have been laid to bring him hither, without gaping of people, and never any took effect till now.  Ful. 
How fell he mad?  Green. 
For a woman, look you sir: here's a crown to provide his supper: he's a Gentleman of a very good house, you shall be paid well if you convert him; tomorrow morning, bedding, and a gown shall be sent in, and wood and coal.  Ful. 
Nay sir, he must ha' no fire.  Green. 
No, why look what straw you buy for him, shall return you a whole harvest.  Omnes. 
Let his straw be fresh and sweet we beseech you sir?  Green. 
Get a couple of your sturdiest fellows, and bind him I pray, whilst we slip out of his sight.  Ful. 
I'll hamper him, I warrant Gentlemen. Exit.  Omnes. 
Excellent.  May. 
But how will my noble Poet take it at my hands, to betray him thus.  Omn. 
Foh, 'tis but a jest, he comes.  Enter Musician and Bellamont. Bel. 
Perdonate mi, si Io dimando del vostro nome: oh, whether shrunk you: I have had such a mad dialogue here.  Omn. 
we ha' been with the other mad folks.  May. 
And what says he and his pricksong?  Bell. 
we were up to the ears in Italian i'faith.  Omn. 
In Italian; O good master Bellamont let's hear him.  Enter full-moon, and two Keepers. Bell. 
How now, 'Sdeath what do you mean? are you mad?  Ful. 
Away sirrah, bind him, hold fast: you want a wench sirrah, do you?  Bell. 
What wench? will you take mine arms from me, being no Heralds? let go you Dogs.  Ful. 
Bind him, be quiet: come, come, dogs, fie, & a gentleman.  Bell. 
Master Maibery, Philip, master Maibery, uds foot.  Ful. 
I'll bring you a wench, are you mad for a wench.  Bel. 
I hold my life my comrades have put this fools cap upon thy head: to gull me: I smell it now: why do you hear Full-moon, let me lose; for I'm not mad; I'm not mad by jesu:  Ful. 
Ask the Gentlemen that.  Bel. 
byth' Lord I'm as well in my wits, as any man i'th' house, & this is a trick put upon thee by these gallants in pure knavery.  Ful. 
I'll try that, answer me to this question: lose his arms a little, look you sir, three Geese nine pence; every Goose three pence, what's that a Goose, roundly, roundly one with another.  Bel. 
'sfoot do you bring your Geese for me to cut up.  Enter all. strike him soundly, and kick him. Omn. 
Hold, hold, bind him master Full-moon.  Ful. 
Bind him you, he has paid me all, I'll have none of his bonds not I, unless I could recover them better.  Gre. 
Have I given it you master Poet, did the Limebush take.  Ma. 
It was his warrant sent thee to Bedlam, old jack Bellamont, and master Full-ith'moone, our warrant discharges him; Poet, we'll all ride upon thee to Ware, & back again I fear to thy cost.  Bel. 
If you do, I must bear you, thank you Master Greenshield, I will not die in your debt: farewell you mad rascals, to horse come, 'tis well done; 'twas well done, you may laugh, you shall laugh Gentlemen: if the gudgeon had been swallowed by one of you it had been vile, but by Gad 'tis nothing, for your best Poets indeed are mad for the most part: farewell goodman Full-moon.  Ful. 
Pray Gentlemen if you come by call in. Exit.  Bell. 
Yes, yes, when they are mad, horse yourselves now if you be men.  May. 
He gallop must that after women rides,  
Get our wives out of Town, they take long strides. Exeunt.   

ACTVS 5. SCAENA 1.  Enter old Maybery and Bellamont. May. 
But why have you brought us to the wrong Inn? and withal possessed Greenshield that my wife is not in town: when my project was, that I would have brought him up into the chamber, where young Fetherstone and his wife lay: and so all his Artillery should have recoiled into his own bosom.  Bell. 
O it will fall out far better, you shall see my revenge will have a more neat and unexpected conveyance: he hath been all up and down the town, to inquire for a Londoners wife, none such is to be found: for I have mewed your wife up already. mary he hears of a Yorkshire Gentlewoman at next Inn, and that's all the commodity Ware affords at this instant: now sir, he very politicly imagines, that your wife is rode to Puckridge, five mile further, for saith he in such a town where Hosts will be familiar, and Tapsters saucy, & Chamberlains worse than thieves intelligencers, they'll never put foot out of Stirrup: either at Puckridge or Wades-mill (saith he) you shall find them: & because our horses are weary, he's gone to take up post-horse: my counsel is only this, when he comes in, feign yourself very melancholy, swear you will ride no farther, and this is your part of the Comedy: the sequel of the jest shall come like money borrowed of a Courtier, and paid within the day, a thing strange & unexpected. Enter Greeneshield.  May. 
Enough, I ha''t,  Bel 
He comes.  Gree. 
Come gallants, the post-horse are ready, 'tis but a quarter of an hours riding, we'll ferret them and firk them in-faith.  Bel. 
Are they grown politic? when do you see honesty covet corners, or a gentleman that's no thief lie in the Inn of a carrier.  Mai. 
Nothing hath undone my wife, but too much riding.  Bel. 
She was a printy piece of a Poet indeed, & in her discourse would as many of your Goldsmiths wives do, draw her simile from precious stones, so wittily, as redder than your Ruby, harder than your Diamond, and so from stone to stone, in less time than a man can draw on a straight boot, as if she had been an excellent Lapidary.  Green. 
Come will you to horse sir?  May. 
No let her go to the devil and she will, I'll not stir a foot further.  Green. 
God's precious be't come to this: persuade him as you are a Gentleman, there will be ballads made of him, & the burden thereof will be, if you had rode out 5. mile forward, he had found the fatal house of Brainford Northward, O hone, hone, hone ononero.  Bell, 
You are merry sir.  Gre. 
Like your Citizen, I never think of my debts, when I am a horseback.  Bell. 
You imagine you are riding from your creditors.  Gree. 
Good in faith: will you to horse?  May. 
I'll ride no further.  Gree. 
Then i'll discharge the postmaster: was't not a pretty wit of mine master Poet to have had him rod into Puckridge, with a horn before him, ha was't not?  Bell. 
Good sooth excellent: I was dull in apprehending it: but come since we must stay: we'll be merry, chamberlain call in the music, bid the Tapsters & maids come up and dance, what we'll make a night of it, hark you masters, I have an excellent jest to make old Maibery merry, 'sfoot we'll have him merry.  Green. 
Let's make him drunk then, a simple catching wit I.  Bel. 
Go thy ways, I know a Nobleman would take such a delight in thee.  Green. 
Why so he would in his fool.  Bel. 
Before God but he would make a difference, he would keep you in Satin, but as I was a saying we'll have him merry: his wife is gone to Puckridge, 'tis a wench makes him melancholy, 'tis a wench must make him merry: we must help him to a wench. when your citizen comes into his Inn, wet & cold, dropping, either the host's or one of her maids, warms his bed, pulls on his nightcap, cuts his corns puts out the candle, bids him command ought, if he want aught: and so after master citiner sleeps as quietly, as if he lay in his own low-country of Holland, his own linen I mean sir, we must have a wench for him.  'gree 
But where's this wench to be found, here are all the movable petticoats of the house.  Bel. 
At the next Inn there lodged tonight—  Gree. 
God's precious a Yorkshire Gentlewoman; I ha''t, I'll angle for her presently, we'll have him merry.  Bel. 
Procure some Chamberlain to Pander for you.  Gree. 
No I'll be Pander myself, because we'll be merry.  Bell. 
Will you, will you?  Gree. 
But how? be a Pander as I am a gentleman? that were horrible, I'll thrust myself into the outside of a falconer in town here: & now I think on't there are a company of country players, that are come to town here, shall furnish me with hair and beard: if I do not bring her,— willbe wondrous merry.  Bel. 
About it look you sir, though she bear her far aloof, and her body out of distance, so her mind be coming 'tis no matter.  Green. 
Get old Maibery merry: that any man should take to heart thus the down fall of a woman, I think when he comes home poor snail, he'll not dare to peep forth of doors lest his horns usher him. Exit.  Bel. 
Go thy ways, there be more in England wear large ears and horns, than Stags and Asses: excellent he rides post with a halter about his neck.  May. 
How now wilt take?  Bel. 
Beyond expectation: I have persuaded him the only way to make you merry, is to help you to a wench, and the fool is gone to pander his own wife hither.  May. 
Why he'll know her?  Bel. 
She hath been masked ever since she came into the Inn, for fear of discovery.  May. 
Then she'll know him.  Bel. 
For that his own unfortunate wit helped my lazy invention, for he hath disguised himself like a falconer, in Town hear, hoping in that procuring shape, to do more good upon her, then in the outside of a Gentleman.  May. 
Young Fetherstone will know him?  Bel. 
he's gone into the town, and will not return this half hour.  May. 
Excellent if she would come.  Bel. 
Nay upon my life she'll come: when she enters remember some of your young blood, talk as some of your gallant commoners will, Dice and drink: freely: do not call for Sack, lest it betray the coldness of your manhood, but fetch a caper now & then, to make the gold chink in your pockets: I so.  May. 
Ha old Poet, let's once stand to it for the credit of Milk-street. Is my wife acquainted with this.  Bel. 
She's perfect, & will come out upon her cue, I warrant you.  May. 
Good wenches in faith: fills some more Sack hear.  Bel. 
God's precious, do not call for Sack by any means.  May. 
Why then give us a whole Lordship for life in Rhenish, with the reversion in Sugar,  Bell. 
Excellent.  May. 
It were not amiss if we were dancing.  Bell. 
Out upon't, I shall never do it.  Enter Greensheild disguised, with mistress Greensheild. Green. 
Out of mine nostril's tapster, thou smell'st like guildhall two days after Simon and Jude, of drink most horribly, off with thy mask sweet sinner of the North: these masks are foils to good faces, and to bad ones they are like new satin outsides to lousy linings.  Kat. 
O by no means sir, your Merchant will not open a whole piece to his best customer, he that buys a woman, must take her as she falls: I'll unmask my hand hear's the sample.  Green. 
Go to then, old Poet I have ta'en her up already as a pinnace bound for the straits, she knows her burden yonder.  Bel. 
Lady you are welcome: you is the old Gentleman and observe him, he's not one of your fat City chuffs: whose great belly argues that the felicity of his life consists in capon, sack, and sincere honesty, but a lean spare bountiful gallant one that hath an old wife, and a young performance: whose reward is not the rate of a Captain newly come out of the Low-Countries: or a Yorkshire Attorney in good contentious practice, some angel, no the proportion of your wealthy Citizen to his wench, is, her Chamber, her diet, her physic, her apparel, her painting, her monkey, her pandar, her every thing. You'll say your young Gentleman, is your only service that lies before you like a calves head, with his brains some half yard from him, but I assure you, they must not only have variety of foolery; but also of wenches: whereas your conscionable graybeard of Farrington within, will keep himself, to the ruins of one cast waiting-woman an age: & perhaps, when he's passed all other good works, to wipe out false weights, and twenty i'th' hundred, marry her—  Green. 
O well bold Tom() we have precedents, for't:  Kat. 
But I have a husband sir.  Bel. 
You have, if the knave thy husband be rich, make him poor, that he may borrow money of this Merchant, and be laid up in the Counter, or Ludgate, so it shall be conscience in you old Gentleman, when he hath seized all thy goods, to take the horn and maintain thee.  Green. 
O well bold Tom() we have precedents for't.  Kat. 
Well if you be not a Nobleman, you are some great valiant Gentleman, by your birth: and the fashion of your beard: and do but thus to make the Citizen merry, because you owe him some money.  Bell. 
O you are a wag.  May. 
You are very welcome.  Gree. 
He is ta'en, excellent, excellent, there's one will make him merry: is it any imputation to help one's friend to a wench?  Bel. 
No more than at my Lord's entreaty, to help my Lady to a pretty weighting woman: if he had given you a gelding, or the reversion of some Monopoly, or a new suit of Satin to have done this, happily your Satin would have smelled of the Pander: but what's done freely, comes like a present to an old Lady, without any reward, and what is done without any reward, comes like wounds to a Soldier, very honourably notwithstanding.  May. 
This is my breeding Gentlewoman: and whether travail you?  Kate. 
To London sir, as the old tale goes, to seek my fortune.  May. 
Shall I be your fortune Lady?  Kate. 
O pardon me sir, I'll have some young landed heir to be my Fortune, for they favour she fools more than Citizens.  May. 
Are you married?  Kate. 
Yes, but my husband is in garrison i'th' Low-countries, is his colonel's bawd, and his captains jester: he sent me word over, that he will thrive: for though is apparel lie i'th' Lombard, he keeps his conscience i'th' Muster-book.  May. 
He may do his country good service Lady.  Kate. 
I as many of your Captains do, that fight as the Geese saved the Capitol, only with prattling: well, well, if I were in some Nobleman's hands now, may be he would not take a thousand pounds for me.  May 
No.  Kate. 
No sir: and yet may be at years end, would give me a brace of hundredth pounds to marry me to his Baily, or the Solicitor of his Law suits: whose's this I beseech you?  Enter mistress Maybery her hair loose, with the hostess. Hostess. 
I pray you forsooth be patient.  Bel. 
Passion of my heart, Mistress Maybery. Exeunt Fiddlers.  Green. 
Now will she put some notable trick, upon her Cuckoldly husband.  May. 
Why how now Wife, what means this? ha?  Mi. Me. 
Well, I am very well: o my unfortunate parents, would you had buried me quick, when you linked me to this misery.  May. 
O wife be patient, I have more cause to rail wife.  Misters May. 
You have, prove it, prove it: where's the Courtier, you should have ta'en in my bosom: I'll spit my gall in's face, that can tax me of any dishonour: have I lost the pleasure of mine eyes, the sweets of my youth, the wishes of my blood: and the portion of my friends, to be thus dishonoured, to be reputed vild in London, whilst my husband prepares common diseases for me at Ware, O god O god.  Be. 
Prettily well dissembled.  Host. 
As I am true hostess you are to blame sir, what are you masters: I'll know what you are afore you depart masters, dost thou leave thy Chamber in an honest Inn, to come and inveigle my customers, and you had sent for me up, and kissed me and used me like an hostess▪ 'twould never have grieved me, but to do it to a stranger.  Kate. 
I'll leave you sir.  May. 
Stay, why how now sweet gentlewoman, cannot I come forth to breathe myself, but I must be haunted, rail upon old Bellamont, that he may discover them, you remember Fetherstone Greenshield.  Mist. May. 
I remember them, ay, they are two as cogging, dishonourable damned forsworn beggarly gentlemen, as are in all London, and there's a reverent old gentleman to, your pander in my conscience.  Bel. 
Lady, I will not as the old gods were wont, swear by the infernal Styx: but by all the mingled wine in the seller beneath, and the smoke of Tobacco that hath fumed over the vessailes, I did not procure your husband this banqueting dish of sucket look you behold the parenthesis.  Hostess 
Nay I'll see your face too.  Kat. 
My dear unkind husband; I protest to thee I have played this knavish part only to be witty.  Gree. 
That I might be presently turned into a matter more solid than horn, into Marble  Bel. 
Your husband gentlewoman: why he never was a soldier  Kat. 
ay but a Lady got him pricked for a Captain, I warrant you, he will answer to the name of Captain, though he be none: like a Lady that will not think scorn to answer to the name of her first husband; though he wear a Soap-boiler.  Green. 
Hang of thou devil, away.  Kat. 
No, no, you fled me other day,  
When I was with child you ran away,  
But since I have caught you now.  Green. 
A pox of your wit and your singing.  Bel. 
Nay look you sir, she must sing because we'll be merry, what though you rod not five mile forward, you have found that fatal house at Brainford Northward, O hone ho no nam x ro.  Green. 
God refuse me Gentlemen, you may laugh and be merry: but I am a Cuckold and I think you knew of it, who lay i'th' sedges with you tonight wild-duck.  Kat. 
nobody with me, as I shall be saved: but Master Fetherstone, came to meet me as far as Roistone.  Green. 
Fetherstone.  May. 
See the hawk that first stooped, my pheasant is killed by the Spaniel that first sprang all of our side wife.  Bel. 
'twas a pretty wit of you sir, to have had him rod into Puckridge with a horn before him; ha: wast not;  Green. 
Good.  Bel. 
Or where a Citizen keeps his house, you know 'tis not as a Gentleman keeps his Chamber for debt, but as you said even now very wisely, lest his horns should usher him.  Green. 
Very good Fetherstone he comes. Enter Fetherstone.  Feth. 
Luke Greenshield Master Maybery, old Poet: Moll and Kate, most happily encountered, udslife how came you heather, by my life the man looks pale.  Green. 
You are a villain, and I'll make't good upon you, I am no servingman, to feed upon your reversion.  Feth. 
Go to the ordinary then.  Bel. 
This is his ordinary fit & in this she is like a London ordinary: her best getting comes by the box.  Green. 
You are a damned villain.  Feth. 
O by no means.  Green. 
No, udslife, I'll go instantly take a purse, be apprehended and hanged for't, better than be a Cuckold.  Feth. 
Best first make your confession sirrah.  Green. 
'tis this thou hast not used me like a Gentleman.  Feth. 
A Gentleman: thou a gentleman: thou art a tailor.  Bel. 
Ware peaching.  Feth. 
No sirrah if you will confess aught, tell how thou hast wronged that virtuous Gentlewoman: how thou layest at her two year together to make her dishonest: how thou wouldest send me thither with letters, how duly thou wouldst watch the citizens wives vacation, which is twice a day; namely the exchange time, twelve at noon and six at night, and where she refused thy importunity, and vowed to tell her husband: thou wouldest fall down upon thy knees, and entreat her for the love of Heaven, if not to ease thy violent affection, at least to conceal it, to which her pity and simple virtue consented, how thou tookest her wedding ring from her, Met these two Gentlemen at Ware: feigned a quarrel, and the rest is apparent, this only remains what wrong the poor Gentlewoman hath since received by our intolerable lie; I am most heartily sorry for, and to thy bosom will maintain all I have said to be honest.  May. 
Victory wise thou art quit by proclamation.  Bel. 
Sir you are an honest man, I have known an arrant thief for preaching made an officer, give me your hand Sir.  Kate. 
O filthy abominable husband did you all this?  May. 
Certainly he is no Captain he blushes.  Mi. May. 
Speak Sir did you ever know me answer your wishes.  Gree. 
You are honest, very virtuously honest.  Mi. May. 
I will then no longer be a loose woman, I have at my husband's pleasure ta'en upon me this habit of jealousy: I'm sorry for you, virtue glories not in the spoil but in the victory.  Be. 
How say you by that goody Sentence, look you sir; you gallants visit citizens houses, as the Spaniard first sailed to the Indies, you pretend buying of wares or selling of lands: but the end proves 'tis nothing but for discovery & conquest of their wives for better maintenance why look you, was he aware of those broken patience when you met him at Ware, & possessed him of the downfall of his wife: you are a cuckold you have pandered your own wife to this gentleman better men have done it, honest Tom(), we have precedents for't, hie you to London: what is more Catholic i'th' City then for husband's daily for to forgive, the nightly sins of their bedfellows: if you like not that course but to intend to be rid of her: rifle her at a Tavern, where you may swallow down some fifty wisacres sons and heirs to old tenements, and common gardens: like so many raw yolks with muscadine to bedward.  Kat. 
O filthy knave, dost compare a woman of my carriage to a horse.  Bel. 
And no disparagement; for a woman to have a high forehead: a quick ear, a full eye, a wide nostril, a sleek skin, a straight back, a round hip, and so forth is most comely.  Kat. 
But is a great belly comely in a horse sir.  Bel. 
No Lady.  Kat. 
And what think you of it in a woman I pray you.  Bel. 
Certainly, I am put down at my own weapon; I therefore recant the rifling? no there is a new trade come up for cast gentlewomen, of periwig making: let your wife set up i'th' Strand, and yet I doubt, whither she may or no, for they say, the women have got it to be a corporation; if you can you may make good use of it, for you shall have as good a coming in by hair (though it be but a falling commodity) & by other foolish tiring, as any between Saint Clement's and Charing.  Feth. 
Now you have run yourself out of breath, hear me: I protest the gentlewoman is honest, and since I have wronged her reputation in meeting her thus privately, I'll maintain her: wilt thou hang at my purse Kate, like a pair of barbary buttons, to open when 'tis full, and close when 'tis empty?  Kat. 
I'll be divorced by this Christian element, and because thou thinkst thou art a Cuckold, lest I should make thee an infidel, in causing thee to believe an untruth, I'll make thee a Cuckold.  Bel. 
Excellent wench.  Feth. 
Come, let's go sweet: the Nag I ride upon bears double, we'll to London.  May. 
Do not bite your thumbs sir.  Kate. 
Bite his thumb!  
I'll make him do a thing worse than this,  
Come love me where as I lay.  Feth. 
What Kate!  Kate. 
He shall father a child is none of his,  
O the clean contrary way.  Feth. 
O lusty Rate. Exeunt.  May. 
methought he said, even now you were a tailor.  Gre. 
You shall hear more of that hereafter, I'll make Ware and him stink ere he goes, if I be a tailor, the rogues naked weapon shall not fright me, I'll beat him and my wife both out ath Town with a tailors yard. Exit.  May. 
O Valiant sir Tristram; room there.  Enter Philip Leuer-poole and Chartly. Phil. 
News father, most strange news out of the Low-countries, your good Lady and Mistress that set you to work upon a dozen of cheese-trenchers is new lighted at the next Inn, and the old venerable Gentleman's father with her.  Bael 
Let the gates of our Inn be locked up, closer than a Nobleman's gates at dinner time.  Omn. 
Why sir, why?  Bella. 
If she enter here, the house will be infected: the plague is not half so dangerous, as a she-hornet: Philip this is your shuffling o' the cards, to turn up her for the bottom card at Ware.  Phi. 
No as I'm virtuous sir, ask the two Gentlemen.  Lever. 
No in troth sir; she told us, that inquiring at London for you or your son, your man chalked out her way to Ware.  Bel. 
I would Ware might choke 'em both, Master Maybery, my horse and I will take our leaves of you? I'll to Bedlam again rather than stay her.  May. 
Shall a woman make thee fly thy country? stay, stand to her though she were greater than Pope Joan, what are thy brains conjuring for, my poetical bayleaf-eater?  Bel. 
For a sprite o' the buttery, that shall make us all drink with mirth if I can raze it: stay, the chicken is not fully hatched, hit I beseech thee: So; come! will you be secret Gentlemen and assisting.  Omn. 
With brown bills if you think good.  Bel. 
What will you say, if by some trick we put this little Hornet into Fetherstone's bosom, and marry 'em together.  Omn. 
Fuh, 'tis impossible.  Bel. 
Most possible, I'll to my trencher-woman, let me alone for dealing with her: Fetherstone Gentlemen shallbe your patient.  Omn. 
How! how?  Bell. 
Thus: I will close with this country Pedlar mistress Dorothy (that travels up and down to exchange pings for coney-skins) very lovingly, she shall eat of nothing but sweetmeats in my company (good words) whose taste when she likes, as I know she will, then will I play upon her with this Artillery, that a very proper man, and a great heir (naming Fetherstone) spied her from a window, when she lighted at her Inn, is extremely fallen in love with her, vows to make her his wife, if it stand to her good liking, even in Ware; but being (as most of your young Gentlemen are) somewhat bashful, and ashamed to venture upon a woman.  May. 
City and suburbs can justify it: so sir.  Bel. 
He sends me (being an old friend) to undermine for him: I'll so whet the wench's stomach, and make her so hungry, that she shall have an appetite to him, fear it not; Greenshield shall have a hand in it too, and to be revenged of his partner, will I know strike with any weapon.  Lever. 
But is Fetherstone of any means? else you undo him and her.  May. 
He has land between Foolham and London, he would have made it over to me: to your charge Poet, give you the assault upon her, and send but Fetherstone to me, I'll hang him by the gills.  Bell. 
he's not yet horsed sure, Philip, go thy ways, give fire to him, and send him hither with a powder presently.  Phil. 
he's blown up already. Exit.  Bel. 
Gentlemen you'll stick to the devise, & look to your plot?  Omnes. 
Most Poetically: away to your quarter.  Bel. 
I march, I will cast my rider gallants: I hope you see who shall pay for our voyage. Exit.  Enter Phillip and Fetherstone. May. 
That must he that comes here: Master Fetherstone, O Master Fetherstone, you may now make your fortunes weigh ten stone of Feathers more than ever they did: leap but into the Saddle now, that stands empty for you, you are made for ever.  Lever. 
An Ass I'll be sworn.  Feth. 
How for God's sake? how?  May. 
I would you had, what I could wish you, I love you, and because you shall be sure to know where my love dwells, look you sir, it hangs out at this sign: you shall pray for Ware, when Ware is dead and rotten: look you sir, there is as pretty a little Pinnace, struck sail hereby, and come in lately; she's my kinswoman, my father's youngest Sister, a ward, her portion three thousand; her hopes if her Grannam die without issue, better.  Feth. 
Very good sir.  May. 
Her Guardian goes about to marry her to a Stone-cutter, and rather than she'll be subject to such a fellow, she'll die a martyr, will you have all out? she's run away, is here at an Inn i'th' town, what parts soever you have played with me, I see good parts in you, and if you now will catch times hair that's put into your hand, you shall clap her up presently.  Feth. 
Is she young? and a pretty wench?  Lever. 
Few citizens wives are like her.  Phil. 
Young, why I warrant sixteen hath scarce gone over her.  Feth. 
'sfoot, where is she? if I like her parsonage, as well as I like that which you say belongs to her parsonage, I'll stand thrumming of Caps no longer, but board your pinnace whilst 'tis hot.  May. 
Away then with these Gentlemen with a French gallop, and to her: Philip here shall run for a Priest, and dispatch you.  Feth. 
Will you gallants go along: we may be married in a Chamber for fear of hue and cry after her, and some of the company shall keep the door.  May, 
Assure your soul she will be followed: away therefore. he's in the Curtain gulf, and swallowed horse and man: he will have somebody keep the door for him, she'll look to that: I am younger than I was two nights ago, for this physic.— how now?  Enter Captain. Allom. Hans, and others booted. Captain 
God plesse you; is there not an arrant scurvy trab in your company, that is a gentlewoman borne sir, and can tawg Weleh, and Dutch and any tongue in your head?  May. 
How so? Drabs in my company: do I look like a Drab-driver?  Capt. 
The Trab will drive you (if she put you before her) into a pench hole.  Allom. 
Is not a Gentleman here one Master Bellamont sir of your company.  May. 
Yes, yes, come you from London, he'll be here presently.  Capt. 
Will he? tawsone, this oman, hunts at his tail like your little Goats in Wales follow their mother, we have warrants here from master Sustice of this shire, to show no pity nor mercy to her, her name is Doll.  May. 
Why sir, what has she committed? I think such a creature is i'th' town.  Capt. 
What has she committed: 'ounds she has committed more than manslaughters, for she has committed herself God plesse us to everlasting prison: lug you sir, she is a punk, she shifts her lovers (as Captains and Welsh Gentlemen and such) as she does her Trenchers when she has well fed upon't, and that there is left nothing but pale bones, she calls for a clean one, and scrapes away the first.  Enter Bellamont, and Hornet, with Doll between them Greeneshield, Kate, Maybery's wife, Phillip, Leverpoole, and Chartley. May. 
God's so Master Fetherstone, what will you do? here's three come from London, to fetch away the Gentlewoman with a warrant.  Feth. 
All the warrants in Europe shall not fetch her now, she's mine sure enough: what have you to say to her? she's my wife.  Cap. 
Owe! 'sblood do you come so far to fish and catch Frogs? your wife is a Tilt-boat, any man or oman may go in her for money; she's a coney-catcher: where is my movable goods called a Coach, and my two wild beasts, pogs on you would they had trawne you to the gallows.  Allom. 
I must borrow fifty pound of you Mistress Bride.  Hans. 
Yaw uro, and you make me de gheck, de groet fool, you heb mine gelt to: war is it?  Doll. 
Out you base scums, come you to disgrace me in my wedding shoes?  Feth. 
Is this your three thousand pound ward, ye told me sir she was your Kinswoman.  May. 
Right, one of mine ants.  Bell. 
Who pays for the Northern voyage now lads?  Gree. 
Why do you not ride before my Wife to London now? the Woodcocks i'th' spring.  Kate. 
O forgive me dear husband! I will never love a man that is worse than hanged, as he is.  May. 
Now a man may have a course in your Park?  Feth. 
He may sir.  Doll. 
Never I protest, I will be as true to thee, as Ware and Wades-mill are one to another.  Feth. 
Well, it's but my fate: Gentlemen, this is my opinion, it's better to shoot in a Bow that has been shot in before, and will never start, than to draw a fair new one, that for every Arrow will be warping: Come wench we are joined, and all the Dogs in France shall not part us: I have some lands, those I'll turn into money, to pay you, and you, and any: I'll pay all that I can for thee, for I'm sure thou hast paid me.  Omn. 
God give you joy.  May. 
Come let's be merry, lie you with your own Wife, to be sure she shall not walk in her sleep: a noise of musicans Chamberlain.  

This night let's banquet freely: come, we'll dare,  
Our wives to combat i'th' great bed in Ware. Exeunt.   
FINIS.