THE REFORMATION. A COMEDY. ACTED At the Duke's Theatre.  Sunt, quibus in Satyra videor nimis acer— Horat. lib. 2. Sat. 1. 
LONDON, Printed for William Cademan, at the Popes-Head, in the Lower walk of the New Exchange in the Strand, MDCLXXIII.   

PROLOGUE.  
I Smile to think how every One that's here,  
Expects Tartuffe or Scrupple should appear;  
Who with Religions Twang and Mouth a-splay  
Should Conventicle now instead of play:  
But 't is the other house, you've lost your way.  
Here's nothing like a holy Reformation,  
Nor Drum, nor Trumpet, though so much in Fashion  
In all admired Plays of th' new Translation.  
Nay can you Guess what our dull Rogue should mean?  
He has not left us Room for Gaudy Scene;  
Which uses to amuse you for a time,  
Whilst Nonsense safely glides away in Rhyme.  
I'll swear I had advised him for the best,  
To Lard it with fat Song or bawdy jest  
Or write in Verse and huff the Gods at least.  
But he was humoursome and bid me say,  
He was for plodding in the Ancient way:  
Yet he would if this did not please our Friends,  
In Rhyme and Nonsense strive to make amends.  
If we procured Noise, Clothes, Scenes, Songs and Dance,  
His Siege, or Conquest he can have from France.   

Dramatis Personae.  
Camillo an old severe Father. 
Mr. Samford  Pacheco his Son a fop and a reformer. 
Mr. Ant. Leigh  Tutor to Pacheco an Englishman. 
Mr. Underhil  Antonio Reformer. 
Mr. Harris.  Pedro Reformer. 
Mr. Cademan  Leandro in love with Ismena. 
Mr. Cosby  Lysander Husband to Juliana. 
Mr. Medbourne  Pisauro Gallant to Juliana a Reformer. 
Mr. Smith  Boy to Antonio. 
  Mariana daughter to Camillo. 
Mrs. Caft.  Ismena daughter to Camillo. 
Mrs. Johnson.  Juliana wife to Lysander. 
Mrs. Batterton  Lelia Cousin to Juliana. 
Mrs. Osborn  Aemilia Mistress to Lysander. 
Mrs. Loe  Nurse. 
Mrs. Norris  Lucia Servant to Aemilia. 
   
Scene Venice.   
THE REFORMATION  

ACT I.  

SCENE I.  Antonio. Pedro. Ant. 
BUT that I know thee honest, I could not guests thou hadst a less design, than the betraying of this Town of Venice to the Grand Signior.  Ped. 
Or, since thou hast such an opinion of my honesty, what dost thou think of the retaking Candy?  Ant. 
In earnest Pedro, thou hast been as musing this two hours, as a Politician would be thought to be, when he thinks of just nothing; sometimes you stand cross armed, or biting of your nails; by and by nod, as if it was concluded: then on the sudden scratch your head, as if some prodigious accident had ruined the conquest of the Indies.  Ped. 
I am pleased it affords you mirth Antonio.  Ant. 
What a Devil ail'st man? if it be want of Wench or Money, (as I'm sure thou canst have no other cause of Melancholy) thou hast lived long enough, one would think, to purchase confidence to tell thy Friend.  Ped. 
Thou'rt sure to guests right, without being thought a Conjurer, nay you might have left one of them out too, for Heaven send me money, and I'll never throw a way a thought, on any thing that's Woman; whilst I know how to purchase them from a Ducat upwards.  Ant. 
But it may be you are grown particular; I have known as brawny a Donn as your Worship, that has shrunk to the thinness of a Bulrush, in less than two months' time, for this thing called Woman, that you talk of.  Ped. 
Certainly thou hast a better opinion of my understanding; particularly as the world goes now? Why Antonio, I tell thee, I will sooner turn Pimp to a Suburb Bawdy House, where there is nothing to be got, but blows, dead Wine, and the Pox: or Hermit, and forswear the sight of them, another extreme, and as great a punishment, as—  Ant. 
Not so fierce, good Pedro, it must be money then.  Ped. 
Yes faith, I was thinking, since my Father will not be so civil as to die, what I shall do to live.  Ant. 
He begins to grow a little rude now, that's the truth on't, I had one, thank my Fortune, that came to his Estate betimes, kept it till his Lease of one and twenty Years was run out, and never thought good to renew.  Ped. 
That was kind, but mine's fourscore, yet thinks as little of Death, as he did at fifteen: and o' my conscience is as far from it; nay that that vexes me I can't rest for his rules of temperance, and I know not what, and how he lived when he was a young man.  Ant. 
Pox o' their Morals, when they are once past pleasures themselves, they envy us. They ne'er consider should we all live, as they do now, the World would be undone, I tell thee Pedro, if it were not for this debauchery, that kicks up our heels in convenient time, it would not hold half of us.  Ped. 
It would be pleasant, but to hear what cunning contrivances I had to live in my Melancholy fit.  Ant. 
Will you give me leave to guests? I'll lay my life gaming was the first proposal.  Ped. 
Right, and concluded on, till I considered there was never a Scrivener's Clerk, or Tailor's Prentice about the Town, but understood the trade; nay more, the very Women get it, and cheat with as much confidence as a Hec. that has but one stake left, so that design was ruined: my next was a Soldier's Life.  Ant. 
The certain retreat of a broken Gamester.  Ped. 
But methoughts it was a little undecent for a man of my Quality, to walk the Street with one Leg, it may be never an Arm, and half a Nose.  Ant. 
Thou never thinkest how people would be concerned for thee; one that so proper a Gentleman should not be able to carry his Drink to his Head, the Women that your dancing was spoiled; besides the Honour Man.  Ped. 
Pox on't, That signifies just as much as People's Pity, when one's certain of hanging: I'll have none on't: next I was for Poetry.  Ant. 
Why what could put that into thy Head? that's the high way to Beggary.  Ped. 
Not as the World goes now: Besides, believe me, it is an easy Trade to one that understands a modern language or two, and will translate.  Ant. 
Nay he must rhyme too, or the Ladies will ne'er be pleased.  Ped. 
Phu! That's but a weeks' practice at Crambo, and once obtained saves us pains: for 'tis impossible to write nonsense in't, some few long words, and half a score sentences out of Seneca's Tragedies, make an Heroic Poet.  Ant. 
Come, thou hast more wit than to think on't, never trouble thyself, thou shalt want nothing whilst thy Father lives; and when he dies, I know it all secure.  Ped. 
You are still my Friend. That that vexed me was to see that Rogue Pisauro, thrive by Air, wear his Jewels, variety of clothes, keep his Lacquais, Horses, play as deep as any man, and all this out of nothing.  Ant. 
It must be some Woman, the little Rogues are grown so loving since these Wars, and want of men, that they begin to take it ill to be courted, and provide for themselves.  Ped. 
I could ne'er discover't, he's as private as a Confessor.  Antony's 
And upon the same account, for he gets money to conceal her vices: nay your Confessor is like him too in this, that he seldom hides the womens' faults, but in the same time he saves his own credit. But if it be a Woman, much good may it do him, I shall never envy him.  Ped. 
Nor I, He had better thrash, or be chained to the Galleys.  Ant. 
No more, here he is.  Enter Pisauro. Pis. 
Save ye Gallants, I interrupt you.  Ped. 
No Pisauro, we were just now guessing how thou didst to live.  Pis. 
Faith Gentlemen ye are both my Friends, but we Chemists always conceal our great secret by which we thrive.  Ped. 
Heaven send the Furnace where you make your gold, don't prove too hot for you.  Ant. 
But why in this Garb? thou usest to outshine the Sun.  Pis. 
I am sorry Gentlemen you have hit upon two Questions, I must be so uncivil as not to answer; but hereafter when things grow ripe..  Ant. 
There needs no excuse Pisauro.  Pis. 
Your design goes forward with Pacheco?  Ant. 
Yes, yes I intent to carry Pedro thither,  Pis. 
And 'tis odds but I'll bring a Friend.  Ant. 
Dost think the Women will come in?  Pis 
ne'er fear't they'll not stand out at any thing that makes for pleasure.  Ped. 
These are mysteries Gentlemen.  Ant. 
I'll unriddle all as we go.  Pis. 
we'll all meet anon, for the present I must leave you, and to a patient, though I think he is past cure.  Ant. 
What's his Disease prithee, that thou art turned Quack?  Ped. 
The Gentile one I'll warrant you, he cures that by his own experience.  Pis. 
No Faith worse, he's taken o'th' sudden with a love frenzy, and runs mad for a Wench.  Ant. 
Pox on him, get him one then.  Pis. 
That will not do, I have offered him as fair as any one, but he is come to his Sonnets, and Serenades, sighs and walks with his Hat over his Eyes in deep meditation of doggerel love verses, calls her by fine Romantic names, sometimes she is Celia fair, than Phyllis, Amarillis, Clelia, and the Devil and all, but her right name, and that I am now going to learn.  Ped. 
Prithee give him a little Ratsbain, or some cold Poison to cool his pluck; in love; I thought the World had learned more wit above this 12 month.  Ant. 
May we know the man?  Pis. 
I'll try but one Medicine more, and if that cure not, deliver him over to be baited: In the mean time if you chance to guests, pray conceal it till the game grows hot. Gallants adieu.  Ant. 
Adieu Pisauro. Come Pedro you won't fail.  Exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Juliana. Jul. 
I wish she were returned, for I'm impatient till I hear some news, Heaven send she meet him, and me rid of this fond Husband. I am as weary of him, as a Woman can be of a Man, she has married for money; I think I hear her.  Enter Lelia. 
Oh Lelia did you find him? and will he come?  Lel. 
Yes Madam,  Jul. 
But art sure he said so? for thou art so apt to forget.  Lel. 
As sure Madam as that you long for his coming.  Jul. 
Didst remember the hour too?  Lel. 
Lord Madam what makes you so mistrustful? I did, if you'll have me swear—  Jul. 
No I believe thee, prithee Cousin pardon me, and think what a sorment 'tis to want the thing we love: Alas, now 'tis a whole long Week since I saw him: and besides, all the while to be troubled with a doting Husband, would make any body impatient.  Lel. 
Is kindness troublesome? I thought no Woman had complained on that side.  Jul. 
O more than any thing, from one I cannot love.  Lel. 
Pray Madam why did you marry then?  Jul. 
Poor innocent, dost think that love's the only cause? there are a thousand stronger Lelia, that's the very last, in any Woman's thoughts, that's wise.  Lel. 
Pray instruct me then, it may be my fortune one day.  Jul. 
I will and dare with confidence since I know thee private. Before I married people flattered me, or else they thought me fair, and that little beauty Lelia, was the greatest of my Fortune.  Lel. 
and trust me Madam, a very great one too.  Jul. 
As it was, it proved of strength to tempt Lysander, who was, and still continues, one of the richest Merchants of the Town: my Parents thought the Match so great, that it was in vain for me to seem unwilling: to be short, I married him, but not for love Cousin, but to maintain my Dear Pisauro, who long before had ransacked all my Virgin Treasure, and still enjoys my heart.  Lel. 
I shall endeavour to learn Madam.  Jul. 
Trust me Lelia, no way's so direct to Misery as to marry one you love. Love added to a Husband's power, makes him perfect Tyrant; now let him do or say his pleasure, all's indifferent.  Lel. 
But is it not as much trouble Madam, to dote on your Gallant?  Jul. 
No Lelia, He has dependence on me, and all my happiness is, I know his fortune's low; Oh! that he were but here once dearest Pisauro.  Lel. 
Here's your Husband Madam.  Enter Lysander. Jul. 
Then I have a new Trade.  she weeps. Lys. 
Come Dearest, I must take leave; what weeping? Thou hast too much love.  Jul. 
If I had thought I could have loved so well, I never should have married sure, scarce a Week but I am left to misery and solitude, methinks I could curse him that e'er invented your profession.  Lel. Aside 
Brave Woman thou shalt instruct all our Sex.  Lys. 
Cheer up dearest, 'tis but for a few days, and I'll return, and love still more, if possible.  Jul. 
A day's an age to be from one I love, nay my mind give's me, you'll ne'er come again, stay but one day.  Lel. Aside 
Heaven send he does not take her at her word.  Lys. 
Fond Rogue, my word's engaged, I cannot for a World.  Jul. 
No you'll ne'er do any thing I ask you, stay but one hour, come prithee do, let this beg for me.  Lel. Aside 
Rarely acted, she might deceive an Angel.  Lys. 
Why if I should thou'lt be the same then, and trust me, my time is gone, nothing in the World should tempt me from thee, but my credit, prithee Dear be patient.  Jul. 
I have no other remedy, you are always thus cruel, if you find me sick, or dead, when you return, it will never trouble you.  Lys. 
Come prithee be not so unkind, thou know'st I love thee, thou mak'st me weep to hear thee talk thus.  Lel. Aside 
Loving Cuckold! you would have cause, if you knew all.  Jul. 
Well if we must part for ever.  Lys. 
I tell thee 'tis but a day or two.  Jul. 
Farewell, Heaven prosper you, I must have the last look.  Lys. 
No prithee go, or else you hinder me. Lelia wait on your Mistress.  Jul. 
One kiss more, I'm all obedience, and then—  Lys. 
Adieu dearest.  Jul. 
One look more. Was't not rarely acted Lelia?  Lel. 
To the life Madam.  Aside Exeunt Juliana & Lelia. Lys. 
She's gone, and faith now I begin to think myself a Wretch, to abuse her thus. How easily their good nature is deceived? poor doting fool! I dare swear she loves me, then why should I dissemble thus with her? but hang't let her go, she's but a Wife, and that's enough to fully all her worth. I'll to Emilia and there forget her: if I can get loose, I may return a day or two the sooner for this kindness.  
But when a Mistress draws, a Wife must wait.  
Your Fishes always choose the freshest bait.  Exit Lysander. Enter Juliana. Lelia. Lel 
He's gone Madam, He had a grievous conflict betwixt love, and business, talked a little to himself, gave a kind look or two this way, and Exit.  Jul. Laughs 
A fair riddance, Poor Fool▪ now he's as secure of my love, as he is of being Cuckold. Well men may talk of their wisdom, conduct of affairs, etc. but this one Woman's virtue of dissembling, outweighs them all Lelia.  Lel. 
True Madam, were we all as great proficients as yourself.  Jul. 
'Tis but getting a husband to Practise on, and thou'lt soon learn. How do I look to day Cousin?  Lel. 
Tempting fair.  jul. 
I would be dressed to all advantages, for every time I meet Pisauro, methinks I make a new conquest. Prithee what did he say to thee?  Lel. 
He talked something of a Reformation was designed very much for our advantage, I did not well understand him, but you'll here all anon.  jul. 
I wish▪ he were here once, is't not the hour yet Lelia● I'll meet him, if he comes not quickly, if we chance to miss, he has the key, and knows where to expect me.  Lel. 
he'll be here Madam presently, pray be patient.  jul. 
To me even time itself does slowly move,  
There's no such thing as patience in Love.  Exeunt Juliana, Lelia. Enter Camillo and Servant.  

Scena Tertia.  Cam. 
Mariana, Ismena, hay days! go seek'em out.  Seru. 
They're not within, Sir.  Cam. 
Not within Sir? This 'tis! Women? I had rather have 40 Cats to look after; and they all wild too, great, wild, He Cats. I've seen Tigers, Lions, Wolves cooped up, and tamed: But let any man prove to me of his own knowledge, two Women that were so, and I'll believe all Mandevile. O' my conscience I had all bedlams put together in me, when I got these girls, they make nothing of creeping through Key holes.  Ser. 
They're only gone to Church Sr.  Cam. 
To Church Sir? what have women to do at Church Sir? can't they say their Prayers at home, or let them quite alone, and mind their needles? I tell thee there ne'er comes any good of these holy pretences; were I young I'd as soon marry one out of the stews as one of these religious gadders: and the truth on't is it comes much to one, for they meet with Priests at both places. Where's Pacheco?  Seru. 
Abroad Sr.  Cam. 
There's a youth too, hopeful enough till this cursed voyage: if any man longs to spoil a son, let him send him into England with an Ambassador. They are all mad there, and hated the very true Religion, because of Nunneries and Covents, that confined People to Sobriety and Chastity. I have a hopeful brood; would any thing but the downright devil had'em.  Enter Mariana, Ismena. 
So, are you come gypsyes? not a word, I've railed myself weary at present, get you in, I'll but take a turn i'th' gallery, to recover a little, and you shall have it with a vengeance.  Exit Camillo. Mar. 
What shall we do sister, my Father's strangely angry?  Ism. 
Why e'en go abroad again, and run for't, or let him talk out his talk, he's old and quickly out of breath.  Mar. 
We women are most miserable creatures sister, brought up at first by some severe Parent, or kinswoman; and when we grow most sensible of bondage, delivered over to the tyranny of a cruel husband.  Ism. 
Or clapped into a nunnery to spend our lives in thinking, and contemplation, though I persuade myself there's little of religion in't: but from the small remembrance we have of men, scratch their pictures on the walls, and wish: and the first opportunity we have of being sick make use of the confessor.  Mar. 
Thou'rt a wild wench, will nothing tame thee?  Ism. 
'Twould make a dog wild to be tied up thus, I wonder we can never muster courage up for to rebel. I have read of women that have been famous for't, and I'm persuaded I myself have courage enough to be a general.  Mar. 
My Brother talks of some design he has, I wish he would complete it once.  Ism. 
Were I but a man I'd make myself renowned in the womens' quarrel, work them all deliverance; and then share the best of them.  Mar. 
'Tis the men's interest to keep us thus enclosed Ismena.  Ism. 
None but but a few elder brothers that are husbands Mariana, I dare swear were it once proposed the young rogues would die in our defence, 'twould make their addresses cheap and easy, when as now twenty fees can scarcely purchase a good look, which falls hard upon the younger brothers. You're Melancholy Sister.  Mar. 
I dread my father's anger, and the very thoughts of liberty torment me worse, than this imprisonment. Would my Brother would come home once, that we might hear the news.  Ism. 
Dread! I'm ashamed to hear you name it, let's in and laugh, and weary out this tyranny.  Mar. 
'Tis thy mirth that keeps me still alive.  Ism. 
Come wench,  
Our bodies by a father are confined,  
But there's no man can rule a woman's mind.  Exeunt Omnes.  

Scena Quarta.  Emilia. Lucia. Emi. 
No news of Lysander?  Lu. 
No Madam.  Emi. pulls out her Glass. 
I have not lost my beauty yet, the same lustre sparkles in my Eyes; and youth sits smiling on my cheeks: the same brisk heat runs through my veins, and makes me warm, and active in my love. Then why should he grow cold? Five days and not see me? 'tis very strange! He's too wise to have the dotage of a wife seize him. No, 'tis another love grown happy by my ruin. I'll find out some new way to sound him, for 'tis fixed. My youth must not be lost in this indifference. Lucia bid them bring me in a Chair and Table, and do you fetch me the Prayer-book lies in my closet.  Luci. 
The Playbook Madam?  Emi. 
No the Prayer-book, are you Deaf?  Luci. 
You'd better have the other Madam, that will but make you melancholy.  Emi. 
Go I say, it may be I resolve to be so.  Luci. 
I shall have a sad trade on't if it comes to this once. I wonder who invented these grave Books! or ever taught any of our profession to read them, I'm sure they're very much out of our calling.  Chair and Table set out. Exit Lucia. Emi. 
It shall be so, and if this fail, I'll find some other way to live; there are more kind men than one.  Enter Lucia, gives her the Book. Lucia. 
Here Madam, but I hope you are not in earnest.  Emi. 
Peace Baggage, and if Lysander come, tell him I'm not to be disturbed.  Sits down and turns over the Book. Luci. 
Since you are so serious, you shall have none of my Company: I'll e'en go sing a brisk song or two i'th' next room, and bless the first man that comes to put you out of this humour.  Enter Lysander. 
Oh here's Lysander, than I must run for't.  Emi. Aside 
He's come, now all that's woman help me to dissemble. Yet I can find no Prayer that's fit for me. Sure never any woman was so wicked.  She turns the book over. Lys. 
Come Emelia throw away thy book, and fly to my embraces, thou needest not study any new charms. Come let me see what 'tis that tempts thee thus: some smutty Novels on my life. How's this? A Prayer book! I should sooner expect to see the French King turn Calvinist than to find thee in this posture. What sad affliction has brought thee to this misery? Hast spotted thy new gown? lost thy little dog? or dost want a new fashioned pair of Pendants? Prithee tell me.  Emi. 
No, No, Sr. None of these. But I have spotted all my life, lost my innocence which you have robbed me off; and want a new heart▪  Lys. 
hay day! turned Canter? this becomes thee worse than fine dress, and youthful clothes an old woman: There's scarce a Nun will talk thus through a grate.  Emi. 
But I shall when I'm there (as I resolve I will) and if I can, teach you repentance.  Lys. Aside 
Pox o' this wheadle, I see through it, and will cure her by one as extravagant.  Emi. 
It is but Just I help to wash away your guilt, who have been the unlucky cause.  Lys. Aside 
Now for my trade. Oh Emilia from this minute I'm happy: give me your hand, my blood's obedient; and I can touch thee now with as chaste thoughts, as Virgins pray.  Emi. Aside 
If this be real, I'm undone, but I must on.  Lys. 
Methinks I loath my former life. Oh could we but call it back Emilia.  Emi. 
Then we were blessed indeed. But since that cannot be, I'll double all my Orisons, and that way make up my arrears: And never speak, or think of man, but when I put up prayers for you, O Lysander.  Aside 
— Hang me if I can hold for laughing: if I make a good end of this, if I ever undertake to Preach again, may I turn Nun in earnest.  Lys. Aside 
She will outdo me; they have th' advantage of a voice for whining, but I'll try. I'll to a cloister too, for 'tis but just the residue of life be spent in punishing this too much pampered flesh. There in our several cells we'll fast, and watch, and wash away our guilt, and when we're fit to die remove to heaven. Oh Emilia!  Emi. Aside 
This is counterfeit too, but how to come off I can't imagine. Well, dear Lysander (for now I dare call thee so) since our designs agree, let's time our Prayers, that Heaven may hear us both together.  Lys. 
We'll rise before the morn.  Emi. 
Outwatch the pale-faced moon.  Lys. 
Nor eat to satisfy our appetite, but lengthen out our lives for our devotion.  Emi. 
We will not drink, but what our tears have seasoned.  Lys. 
Nor sleep.  Emi. 
Nor think.  Lys. 
Nor dream.  Emi. 
Nor live.  Lys. 
Nor any thing but—  Emi. They both burst out a laughing. 
I can hold no longer.  Lys. 
Nor I by heaven. You idle rogue, could you imagine I could think thee in earnest?  Emi. 
I was once half afraid that you was, till I considered how ill it became you.  Lys. 
Now what amends for all this? Will you never leave this jealousy?  Emi. 
You shall find that within. I did it only for to try you after your absence.  Lys. 
No more of these tricks, there needs none, I am as fond as ever, come let's in and enjoy ourselves, and some twenty years hence, we may venture on such a discourse in earnest.  Exeunt.   

ACT. II.  

SCENA I.  Pisauro, Leandro. Pis. 
YEt you resolve to have this wench?  Lea. 
Why I'm sure thou wouldst not have me die, if it were only to save the trouble of praying for me.  Pis. 
Faith it would put me a little out of my road, that's the truth on't; but why must you needs die? Thou hast not seen her above twice, and that at Church too: if you had been at your appointment you might have avoided such temptations; for my part I'm resolved to keep out of harms way.  Lea. 
Away you're profane.  Pis. 
Prithee stay till thy Saints Canonised, before thou say so; do you think it religion to kneel squinting at your mistress, two or three hours with your beads in your hands; and only cast up your eyes, because she's i'th' gallery above you?  Lea. 
Heaven made such beauty for to be adored.  Pis. 
And she'll make use of it for to be whored  Aside 
Why don't you go on? I thought you had a copy of verses on it. Heaven made etc. I shall believe you are in love, when once you talk your sublime nonsense. Heaven, Beauty, Fate, Adoration, Sun, Divinity and a few such words will make thee Poet too, and then thou'rt fit to court a Queen.  Lea. 
I was bewitched to tell you, I knew you would but mock at my misfortunes; I should hardly serve Pisauro so.  Pis. 
Misfortunes do you call it? will you make me believe women can run through thee, like lightning, and set what brand upon a heart they please? Let me be thy Doctor and prescribe thee two or three of my infallible cures against this witchcraft of love. Feed high. Wench discreetly. And go to bed with a jolly cup. Probatum est— 'tis as infallible as the Jesuits powder for a Quartan.  Lea. 
I see I must find some other friend to help me in my affairs. Adieu.  Pis. 
I'll be serious. By my troth I had such a qualm came over me once, 'twas troublesome, and lasted about a quarter of an hour, but since a she friend of mine taught me to draw the humour downward, I'm free.  Lea. 
I have no patience to bear this fooling.  Pis. 
I have done, pray pardon me; but which way dost thou intend for to obtain her? The old man keeps her with more care, than he does his gold; He cut of a dog's ears t'other day, to search for letters: And has a gun ready charged to kill pigeons, for fear they should be Carrier's: He 'swounds at the sight of a post, or any thing that runs of errands.  Lea. 
This difficulty makes me need thy help. I know thee expert in all the tricks of women; art read in their winks and nods, canst tell how to answer with a shrug or sigh, know'st how to wheadle Chamber Maids, and make love to old nurses. Prithee be serious and advise me.  Pis. 
Now I see thou art in earnest, I can, and will Leandro.  Lea. 
But how dear Pisauro?  Pis. 
Why thus: old Camillo, Father to thy Ismena, has a son lately returned from England, whither he went with our Ambassador.  Lea. 
This way I can foresee no hopes.  Pis. 
Yes very much. You knew him humoursome, and conceited before his voyage; but this has added to him all the fopperies of that Nation, which they borrow from the French: so that he's the strangest piece of Fantastickness that can make droll for a play: in short he is a mere singing switching Fop.  Lea. 
Still you amaze me.  Pis. 
Suffer me. Amongst the rest of the English customs 'tis one, and faith almost the only one that pleases me, to allow all possible freedom to their women. This he resolves to bring up in Venice, and will in spite of his father, begin with his own sisters. There is a Royal society of us, called the Reformers. Dost thou yet understand me?  Lea. 
Yes, this sounds like something.  Pis. 
We'll admit thee into the number, and then shift for thyself. I must leave you, and to the business that concerns my life (as I was telling you) my little Merchant adventures, Oh! 'tis the kindest thing, so like matrimony, and yet no trouble. Now we talk of reforming, could you all thrive like me, and leave off the damned trade of keeping wenches, and let them keep you, 'twould be a happy world.  Lea. 
But I'm for neither, I'm for the honest way of marrying.  Pis. 
Heaven forbid, but that somebody should like that dull trade: for if there were no wives, there would be no husbands to rob to maintain us younger Brothers.  Lea. 
You still keep your old humour; but why no better dressed man?  Pis. 
I'll tell you; I serve her, as the wenches used to serve me; always pretend to want something: thou shalt see me as glorious as the day at our next meeting.  Lea. 
Stay, who are these?  Enter Antonio and Pedro Pis. 
Antonio and Pedro, two of the society: I'll admit you presently.  Ped. 
Thou'rt a rare rogue: How the Devil couldst thou find Rhetoric enough to wheadle him to this?  Ant. 
He did it himself Sir. And tells me in England, 'tis thought honourable to bring their sisters acquainted, as they call it, I believe some fashionable name for Pimping. 'Tis ordinary there to do it for a kins' woman, and that may save a portion. Heaven send them good faces, and they never need work for their livings. Oh 'tis.—  Pis. 
Save you Gallants, how does the Society go forward?  Ant. 
With full sail, Pisauro.  Pis. 
Shall I beg admission for my friend here?  Ped. 
Leandro! The only man we wished; but he must be sworn according to form.  Lea. 
Your Servant Gentlemen, I shall willingly pass any ceremony.  Pis. 
They are easy, only an oath or two to swallow, and they are gilded.  Ant. 
Lay your hand upon the book. 'Tis Ovid de arte amandi, and begin. You shall swear, to the uttermost of your power to reform Venice according to the Pattern of Enland in manners and discipline; and that you will, without respect of persons, endeavour the extirpation of Tyranny, that is, the government of Husbands and Fathers, by Sisters, Aunts, Nurses, and all other officers depending upon that Usurpation. And that you will with the same sincerity root out the spreading errors of visards, Masques, Veils, Padlocks, both for the restoring of lost pleasures to yourself, and the freedom of the distressed Ladies.  
So help you Cupid.  Ant. 
So, now you are a sworn Brother, we need keep nothing secret.  Pis. 
Where's our Grand-master Pacheco?  Ant. 
I left him with his Tutor, the English man, contriving which way to get his Sisters out of Prison.  Lea. 
That's the English man, I warrant, that pretends so much to Poetry and breeding; and censures all the old Authors, with as much Authority as if he had been their Schoolmaster.  Pis. 
The same; if he gets but the upper end of a Table at an Ordinary, you shall have him run them over as fast, as a Dutchman tells money.  Ant. 
Sometimes he pretends to Plays too, and then he damns French, Spanish, and Italian in a wind, yet steals out of the very worst of them. He would be thought to have a little kindness for an Author or two of his own Nation, but will be sure to ruin their reputation too, with some exception or other, before he leaves them.  Lea. 
Does he ever write himself?  Ant. 
Yes, Yes; but as all your professed Critics do, damnably ill: To tell you the truth (for I have made it my business to understand him) the fellow has wit, but broke with driving a trade too big for his stock; and when Pacheco took him in, all he had to subsist on, was confidence, and the favour of two or three fops.  Ped. 
Faith he's bravely fitted with a Master.  Ant. 
'Tis very pleasant to hear him talk of the advantages of this Reformation, his Lectures of Repartes, Converse, Regales, and an hundred more unintelligible fopperies.  Ped. 
To end, he has ordered us to expect him at the old place, where we shall hear the Result of all.  Pis. 
There you may expect me then an hour hence.  Ant. 
But how shall we find a Mistress for Pacheco?  Ped. 
— Why faith I have a wench I grow something weary of, he shall have her.  Lea. 
No, that's too cruel.  Ant. 
What think you of my boy finely dressed? The rogue has a smooth face, and sings well.  Pis. 
Nor that neither. I have a Cousin witty and handsome, whose Fathers fortunes were ruined in our last wars at Candy: what if we set her up? she may teach him wit.  Ped. 
As you can agree. But prithee, now you talk of singing, let Leandro hear the song you made upon the Reformation.  Ant. 
Sing boy.  

SONG.  

Beauty no longer shall suffer Eclipse,  
Nor jealousy dare to confine  
The power of those eyes, or use of those lips  
Which nothing but kindness design.  
Our Ladies shall be  
As frolic as we,  
Nor shall husband or Father repine.   

We'el banish the stratagems used by the State  
To keep the poor women in awe,  
Henceforth they themselves, shall rule their own fate  
And desire shall be to them a law.  
Thus they being free  
From Padlock and Key  
May with their Reformers withdraw.   

Where in private we'el teach them the Mysteries of Love,  
And practise that Lecture over,  
Till we the fond Scruple of honour remove,  
And the end of our passion discover.  
No maid shall complain  
Or wife sigh in vain  
For each may be eased by her Lover.   

Away with all things that sound like to Laws,  
In this our new Reformation;  
Let the Formalists prate, the good old cause  
Is a general toleration.  
From this time they're free  
A veyl's Heresy  
And a Vizard Excommunication.    Lea. 
'Tis a brisk design, and must needs take among the Ladies: but are the so free in England as you pretend?  Ped. 
Freer than you can think Sir. 'Tis mortal sin not to know what's what at fifteen.  Ant. 
Fifteen! They have lost time at that age; a Maidenhead at thirteen is as great a rarity in the country as a wolf; now and then in some village there may be some ugly Monster, that holds out longer upon force, but—  Pis. 
In earnest Leandro, the soberest women there, have more freedom of discourse and company, than we give to a stale Bawd, or an old Midwife at a Christening: And yet the men so free from jealousy, that you may as soon persuade one of us to leave whoring, as them to believe their own eyes.  Ped. 
Nay, they are so contrary to us, that a Vizard Masque is a certain sign of a free booter, and nothing makes them cover their faces but impudence.  Lea. 
This must needs be the fortunate Island, people talk so much off.  Ant. 
Now after all this, make it a matter of conscience: consider the necessity of this Reformation, and how damnably we have been wheadled by these veils of ours. After half a years attendance, and courting of some delicate shape, that would tempt a Hermit in the midst of snow, to lose all our expectation and compliment, and when we see the Devil's face, be forced to fly, and cross ourselves for fear of blasting.  Pis. 
'Tis intolerable. I tell you I resolve to spare no body, a Vizard sha'n't pass though it be following her Mother to the grave: nor any face be hid by a veil, though the woman be to do penance in a Church: The truth on't is, Gentlemen, there must be no mean, rank rebellion or nothing.  Ant. 
At that I'm with you, and I know not but this may make us as famous, as inventing a new Religion.  Ped. 
There's no question. Thou art well read, 'tis but finding half a dozen places in our modern Reformers, to back us, and the business is done.  Pis. 
This design has so tickled me, that I have forgot my assignation. Leandro I leave you to be introduced by these Gentlemen.  Ant. 
We'll all go.  Pis. 
My way lies here, I'll be with you presently.  Ant. Sings. 
Let your politic noddles debate  
So our women be free,  
'Tis nothing to him, to thee, or to me  
Who governs the Church or the State.  Exeunt. Ant. Ped. Leandro. as Pisauro is going out at the other door. Enter Juliana and Lelia Masked. Pis. 
So my adventures begin already: though two to one be odds, I must board them; Heaven send they don't prove Fireships  Jul. 
'Tis he.  to Lelia Pis. 
Nay faith Madam, no passing this way without a small Patley, and a kind look or two.  Jul. 
Sure you're some stranger you're so rude, do you know you are in Venice, Sir?  Pis. 
Yes Madam, but I perceive you done't know the most considerable news of the place. How the Devil do you two come into these visards that have been out of fashion these six hours?  Jul. 
What Sir? and the men are to wear them to cover bad faces, as the women did to save good ones?  Pis. 
Well said Spitfire, come, unmasque for fear I call yours in question; for were you fair, you would be proud too, and we must hire you to keep it on.  Jul. 
Like enough Sir, were the prize worth taking, but what shall I get by conquering you? You look as if you had nothing about you, but a Surgeon's bill, and it may be a Tailors, which must be worn out with carrying in your pocket too, if it came home with your clothes.  Pis. 
As I live she guesses all my treasure within a Ducatoon: Oh for some succour to relieve the forlorn hope. Aside. Nay if you once turn wit, I'll swear you're ugly; and now I look again I see your wall eyes, and guests the length of your nose by the shape of your Masque. Faith Madam, the men are beholden to you, that you take such care not to fright them.  Jul. 
Without you repent you shall pine for this, though it be spoke at random.  Aside. Lelia. 
This is the strangest beggar I ever heard Madam; but you use to be charitable, give him something to put him into repair, the Gentlemen has been in a Storm.  Pis. 
Do you begin to open too, you pispot-emptier, you must be such by the old lace shoes, and respect you have to follow the fashion at a distance.  Lel. 
Marry come up! one had better be out of the fashion, than out at the elbows.  Jul. 
Methinks one of your complexion might light upon some wife, or easy fool that would buy her pleasures at the price of periwigs, or a new suit, you have had ill fortune Sir. Prithee Lelia help me to abuse him.  Pis. Aside 
Worse and worse she knows me too: yet refuse me, if (except this minute to Leandro) I ever told it so much as to my Confessor, but most of your women are witches.  Lel. 
Or what do you think of a Gentleman Usher? you have a good fashionable face; and your Lady will see to bring your legs to a fit size.  Jul. 
No, No; I tell you he scorns any thing of Service. The Ladies dote on him, 'tis ten to one, but that he's just now sent for, you see he's dressed for the purpose.  Pis. 
Pox on you both, for I have nothing left to say but curses, and they shall be home: may you be both Padlocked, chained together, and turned upon a Common; or which is yet worse, may you always gape for meat, and it be death for any man to feed you.  Jul. 
Nay if you be so good at that, I'll have one for you too; may you have nothing to maintain you, but the favour of some woman, and she grow weary and discard you.  Pis. 
Heaven forbid, that bites, I'd give all the world to see this Devil, and will before I go.  Jul. 
Nay, never take the pains to strive.  She unmasques herself. Pis. 
How! Juliana! Could you curse with so much cruelty, when you knew me too?  Jul. 
Don't you deserve it? how do you like my wall-eyes now?  Pis. 
Now you're cruel: Good faith I did not know thee, I was just coming.  Jul. 
I have waited above this two hours, but you men when you once get a thank upon our affections, think you may do any thing.  Pis. 
By this you sha'n't be angry. I have the pleasan'st story to tell you; come be pleased Lelia shall engage for me.  Lel. 
Yes I have cause, you did not abuse me?  Pis. 
Peace, I'll stop thy mouth with a husband Girl.  Lel. 
Say you so? I have done.  Jul. 
Well I'll try you once again, but if ever— I'll only go round and meet you, you have the key of the back door.  Exeunt Juliana, Lelia. Pis. 
What fool will trust himself to wind and waves?  
When thus he reaps the fruit and trouble saves?  
A Husband's factor for his wife's Gallant,  
And till he break, the other ne'er can want.  Exit Pisauro.  

Scena Secunda.  Pacheco, Tutor. Pac. Throws back his wig. 
That was something nigh it, but methinks I ha'ned the right fling yet. I'll try again.  Tut. 
I here you nicked it. Now for your Virtuoso's Looking glass.  Pac. Pulls out a piece of polished metal.) Tut. 
Right Sir, that expresses your design of promoting new experiments. You must observe it in every thing not so much as a tooth-picker, but must have something extraordinary.  Pac. 
Would not this show genteel and modish in a Playhouse?  Tut. 
This and the managing your comb will make you pass for a Critic in the fashion. The next thing you may practice is some few books, and then you are a wit too.  Pac. 
That's the only thing I aim at; on good Tutor.  Tut. 
When you come to a new Play, and know the Author is no fighter, and you may venture to abuse him; first sit grave and unconcerned, and be sure to cast an eye upon some famed wit of the town, and take him for your pattern.  Pac. 
But how if there be none there Tutor.  Tut. 
Why then if any thing takes in general you may venture to smile a little: if only amongst some few, and you imagine it not good, cast a scornful look about you, as if you pitied their ignorance. Above all things commend nothing without some exception. These few rules well observed, you'll be a standard of carriage unto others.  Pac. 
Nay, they almost take me for a wit already, I know all the Poets Christen names; and call Tom and Jack with as much confidence, as if I had been their Godfather.  Tut. 
That's well: There's very much in that. You may take occasion to give them the familiar shrug, talk aloud, and swear, Tom the humour in thy last Prologue was high and new. Pox on thee for a rogue, thou'lt grow famous. A whisper now and then, with a great laugh after it does well.  Pac. 
Did not you talk something of a shrug? You promised to teach me the way of accosting people, that's the word I think in England.  Tut. 
Yes, mark▪ First take notice of no body in bad clothes, or poor, though it should be your own Father come out of the country for to see you: or if you must needs speak to him, withdraw, and after half a score words return, and tell the company that a Tenant wants dispatch, or a dependant on the family; and you'll be with them presently.  Pac. 
I sha'n't forget this, 'tis so natural to me ever since I have been in England. I can't tell what to say to any one that wants a white wig, and a new suit.  Tut. 
When you're nigh a person of honour, and one you think it a credit to be acquainted with, be sure to turn and smile, though it be a secret he's whispering to another, and you don't hear a word. This makes you be thought familiar, and a favourite at Court  Pac. 
That's excellent, faith Tutor I'll remember I'll warrant you.  Tut. 
As for your Equals, your shrug, or shaking of the head, as if you had been at a debauch the night before, is creditable and modish. As to practise: Mounsieur Pacheco? shrugs. Come, how is't? shrugs What at some deep engagement with the Ladies last night, or a tavern on my life. shrugs.  Pacheco imitates him. Tut. 
That's right, and confirms him, that you drink and wench, things of more credit, as the world goes, than a Knighthood, or the command of a Regiment.  Pac. 
Incomparable Tutor! but no more, for fear I forget: besides I fear they stay for us; and I would not hinder the Reformation, to be great Duke.  Exit Pacheco. Tut. 
In England, where each Writer shares the stakes,  
The gains are small, and one the other breaks.  
But here alone without control I rule,  
His trade can't fail that's Tutor to a fool.  Exit Tutor.   

ACT. III.  

SCENE I.  Lysander, Tutor. Tutor. 
I Tell you truth Sir.  Lys. 
Pisauro? the thing itself does not so much perplex me, as that I'm overreached; and yet it cannot be; she's all fondness.  Tut. 
What greater ground can you propose for your suspicion? Consider Sir, had you the same design what other way is left to hide it? But I have done the office of a friend believed or not.  Lys. 
This argument has convinced me, and since thou art so much my Friend, I'll tell you, I have the same design, and love a Mistress more than twenty Wives, and by this very means conceal it from her. But People that pretend themselves to cunning, seldom see through others. Dost think he's there now?  Tut. 
I'm sure he was Sir within this half hour I see him enter.  Lys. 
Then I will surprise them. I know she can't expect me yet a day or two. I'll only dispatch an hour's business Gives him gold. and be with them. Pray accept of this acknowledgement, you're far from home and trust me 'tis a real kindness. For had I found it out myself I know not what a sudden heat might drive me to. A little time to pause will make me unconcerned.  Tut. 
If this project chance to fail, within a day or two I'll find out one that shall be certain.  Lys. 
Till my one eyes convince me I'll be still the same. Adieu.  Exit Lysander. Tut. 
Your Servant Sir. Thus far things go well, and here's a good reward. But let me think. This Gallant keeps his Mistress too. That shall to Juliana. And since they are so much for Reformation I'll show them one more of our Country tricks. The taking fees on both sides.  Exit Tutor.  

ACT III. SCENE II.  Mariana, Ismena. as at work. Ma. 
THis England must be a blessed place my Brother talks so much of it.  Is. 
Would I were there; that I might be acquainted with these men, I have such a tickling runs through me when I see them.  Ma. 
And there it is commoner for them to go to a treat, than for us to go to Church; never a day but this Lords or that Knight's Coach waits on you and hurrys you to a Play, thence into the Park, then there's such perpetual Masquerades and Balls, that 'tis Carnival all the year.  Is. 
And here if we have a little liberty before Lent we are sure to pine for't, so that the whole year scarce recruits us again.  Mar. 
They have no such thing there: they account it almost sin not to eat flesh when 'tis forbidden by the Church.  Is. 
That's a life worth something, I wonder why these old men live, sure there they all die when they're young, or else the women never knew their Fathers, for my part I wish I had never known mine: I'm sure he's grievous troublesome.  Ma. 
Fie Ismena consider he is your Father.  Is. 
Fie me no fies, Mariana, I wonder who disturbs his telling of money, or any thing he has a mind to: does he think because he had the pleasure to get us, we are bound to be his Slaves? if he had not been my Father 'tis odds but somebody else would, I've heard them say my Mother was a handsome woman.  Mar. 
Peace for shame and be content a while, you know what my Brother promised us to day.  Is. 
I wish he would make his words good and bring them once. But I have a strong fancy we shall quarrel, for I have had a mind to every man I have seen yet.  Mar. 
I wish it were come to that once, for I am grievous weary of working these virtuous Stories of constant wives.  Is. 
Constant! thine I think's Penelope an old withered witch that was forced to spin ten years to earn money to pay her drudges with; and when she had wearied them all out, sent to seek her Husband; mine's Lucretia, it may be she was virtuous but it would never grieve one to kill one's self, so one was well ravished first.  Ma. 
Now thou art stark mad.  Is. 
Phu! we may say any thing amongst ourselves, if we did not talk merrily how should we be able to live?  Mar. 
Hark, I hear my Father, Heaven send him in a better humour than when he last left us.  Is 
He'd best look to himself, for such another Scold would cut off two or three years at least.  Enter Camillo and Nurse. Cam. 
So, this I like, if I ever catch you abroad again without my leave, do you hear I'll have your legs tied together.  Ism. 
We may sometimes go to Church Sir.  Cam. 
No, I'd rather have thee stay at home and be damned; I wonder what 'tis you do at Church? make mouths at some young fellow, who talks to you all the while on his beads. Come come, I know all your tricks and will have you stay at home; nor shall any come to see you, no not your Brother to tell you Stories of his England voyage: curse on the Nation.  Ma. 
Not my Brother Sir? this is too severe.  Cam. 
No not your Brother Minks; you're like to come to good when you'll be instructing of your Father. Here Nurse take the Keys, and give no more liberty than the two next rooms afford without my order.  Nurse. 
I warrant you Sir, I'll keep them close.  Exit Camillo. 
Now Mrs. Ismena I shall be even with you for all your frumps.  Ism. They shake her. 
Nay as long as you are with us we shall want no sport, come Sister help me to shake her to pieces.  Nurse. 
Will you murder me? Oh!  Mar. 
The other shake does it, I heard her bones rattle.  Nurse. 
Oh I am dead.  Mar. 
You keep them close you old toadstool! thou art too ugly to be a Bawd.  Ism. 
She had been a Witch Sister, but that the Devil loathed to suck her.  Nurse. 
When you are once in your pound I'll make you fast for this, you sha'n't so much as see a man this twelvemonth, nay, I'll have your hands tied behind you, that you may not scratch where it itches.  Ism. 
That would be hard indeed Sister.  Mar. 
Leave your threats, or you know your old punishment: or what do you think of tossing her in a blanket? she's so old and dry she must be light.  Ism. 
Excellent! if we had her in the Garden on a windy day 'twould be a sure riddance; But now I think on't Sister we'll get some packthread and fly her as the boys do a paper kite with a Candle and Lantern at her tail. She'll make a rare Comet.  Mar. 
'Tis the best use of her, she's like the picture of one of the Sibylls' above in the Dining room, and this is the way to make her prophecy.  Nurse. 
Well Mrs. Percks' this goes to your Father, with some improvement of my own.  Mar. 
If you dare Keeks, we'll in and study a revenge.  Ism. Shakes her. 
Farewell Rattle, and be sure to keep us close.  Exeunt Mariana, Ismena. The old woman locks them in. Nurse. 
So, if you will prate, Magpies, it shall be in a Cage. These Gimcracks if they once come towards fifteen are so gamesome, there's no riding them without a curb, nay then 'tis ten to one but that they fling the first Adventurer out of the Saddle too. The devil's in them I think, I'm sure in my young days. But I'd as good stop I shall be tempted to lie else. The truth is I hate all young women that are fair and there's reason for't; if we old ones get a good look once a twelvemonth, be sure the next young one that passes by robs us.  Enter Pacheco, Pedro, Antonio, Leandro, and Tutor. Pac. 
Come Gentlemen, the old man's safe, enter, and think yourselves in England: there we run about till we find the Lady's Chambers, ransack every thing, and are never chid except it be for not staying longer. What say you, Tutor?  Tutor. 
He tells you truth Gallants, we help to dress and undress faith almost any thing; yet all the while as Virtuous as two Nuns. More, you'll find there is no other way but liberty to make us so.  Lean. 
I'm glad to hear the way to Virtue is so easy Sir.  Antony's 
I always thought it, there's none but a company of ill-natured morose people that would have it hard can think it otherwise.  Ped. 
Can any one believe that such a glorious thing as woman is, was made to be concealed?  Ant. 
No, no 'tmust be cursed Heresy, I had rather they should put out the Sun by half.  Pache. 
That's because you love their company in the dark. Was not that good, Tutor?  Aside. Tut. 
Excellent!  Ped. Sees the old Nurse. 
hay day! who have we here? I have heard of Guardian Angels, but never thought that Devils were so employed before.  Tutor. 
You know the fashion Sir of your own Country. This is the sweetmeat keeper, the preserver of Maiden heads that shall for a Ducat corrupt youth, and teach them more bawdy in a week than half a dozen years' practice; yet is trusted with as much beauty as is able to make the great Turk's Empire run mad, merely for being old and ill natured. In short Sir here our Reformation must begin.  Ant. 
Come at her then.  Nurse. 
What do you mean Gentlemen? I'm only a poor old Servant to the house.  Pedro. 
Thy being old is enough to make us hate thee.  Pacheco. 
Come where are my Sisters? give me the keys.  Nurse. 
No such matter, my Master charged me but just now to the contrary, and I will be true.  Pacheco. 
Give me them you Witch or—  Nurse. 
I'll cry out, will you force me?  Pedro. 
Have you got them?  He takes away the keys Pacheco. 
Yes, Yes.  Pedro. 
But how shall we stop her mouth? an old woman's tongue is harder to lay than ten Devils.  Anto. 
Let me alone with her, I go always prepared to stop these noises.  Ant. Gags and binds her and throws her out. Ant. 
There lie thee there, and dare but so much as think mischief, and do you hear I'll pull out the two stumps that are left.  Pacheco. 
Here Gallants take these keys. Now you may enter and catch who catch can a la mode d' Angleterre, I disturb nobody not I.  Ant. 
A kind Brother this! Aside it shall go hard but I will have a Sister for you Sir.  Exeunt Pedro, Antonio. Lea. Aside 
My jealousy makes it but too true I am in love, and that with such respect that 'tis impossible to benefit by this freedom.  Tut. 
Courage Sir, I perceive you are one of the cold contemplative lovers that follow a Mistress at a distance, and think yourself happy if you purchase one gracious nod, with ten thousand cringes. In for shame.  Pacheco. 
If you'll carry me to one of your Ladies, I'll soon teach you better courtship. Or if you'll stay here. You shall see me practise.  Lean. 
I shall be glad to learn Sir.  Pacheco. 
Come Tutor show me the way of address to a Lady.  Tutor. 
Did you never see the Gallants in the Antechamber, how they prepare themselves before entrance?  Pacheco. 
Yes I warrant, what was I in England so long for else? but will that do?  Tutor. 
The very same.  Sets his wig and shirt and tricks himself. Pacheco. 
Then thus.  
How do you like this Sir?  Lea. 
Oh Sir much beyond any thing I ever saw. I must have patience with this fool for his Sister's sake.  Aside. Tutor▪ 
Then Sir we don't go your formal old way of making legs, as if we had some Deity to worship. But knowing they are flesh and blood as well as we approach briskly.  Pacheco. 
Begin with an oath or two. I think it is not much matter whether it be to the purpose or not Tutor.  Tutor. 
Not at all Sir, they'll excuse all that follows for the sake of that.  Lean. 
These are great secrets, you improve me Gentlemen.  Pac. 
Nay Sir, if we carry on our Reformation, the whole state will stand engaged to us, but great designs seldom prosper at the first.  Lean. 
The more's our ignorance, but pray Sir in. If there be such a toy as a Masque or Fan to play with, or you can find any thing new about her to commend 'tis modish, and the most gentile subject for discourse.  Tut. 
If you name two or three Ladies of quality familiarly, it sounds well and brings you in esteem. But most of all if you can learn who she hates (for women have always little quarrels amongst themselves) and can pick up a story to their disadvantage, you render yourself beyond exception acceptable.  Pacheco. 
I do it always, but nothing pleases them so much as a little sprinkling of bawdy Tutor. Only the Devils in't, the rogues perpetually outdo me at it.  Tutor. 
No wonder Sir, they practise daily, and no three women that are acquaintance but make a Bawdy language for their own use.  Pach. 
I wish you had a Sister Sir, or so, that you might see me practise o'er these lectures,  Lean. 
'Tis my misfortune Sir.  Pache. 
But suppose for once that you were my Mistress.  Lea. 
Content.  Pacheco. 
Thus I come up.  Sings a piece of a Tune. 
And how? damn me Madam all a mort?  Tutor. 
Incomparably well!  Lean. 
Must I swear too?  Pach. 
No Sir by no means, if the women once get that (as there is a faction amongst them that endeavour it) they rob us of half our discourse. But say what you will I have news from the last Ball, or of some new Beauty kept by such a one. Or a new Play to find fault with or commend according as I hear who made it.  Tutor. 
And when you once get them into the discourse of Plays they'll run on themselves. Praise such an Actor for this part, a second for another, a third for a comely man, a fourth for dancing well.  Pache. 
Nay Sir, if you meet with a woman that does not find you discourse on this subject, conclude her some Jilt that never had the good luck to be picked up there, or some poor whore that can't purchase a seat.  Lean. 
But what do you do all the time?  Pache. 
Comb my Wig by her glass and twenty other gentile tricks. But you must have time to learn, I myself am beholden to travel, and this good man my Tutor here.  Lea. 
I despair of e'er attaining such perfections.  Pache. 
Industry may do much, Sir.  Enter Pedro, Antonio, Mariana, Ismena. Tutor. 
So, here they come; does not this look better than making legs to a belcony and blowing kisses up and down.  Pache. 
This is right. Blessed Reformation!  Lean. Aside 
I find this English custom will not down with me, I'm too much an Italian not to be jealous of the thing I love.  Mari. 
You may think us rude for to be thus familiar; but a Father's strictness, and my Brothers good lessons have instructed us.  Pedro. 
It's nothing Madam but what becomes all People that are Virtuous; 'tis only such as drive a trade, and gain by seeming nice that should be otherwise.  Ism. 
Fie Sister, you sin against our Covenant to go about t' excuse yourself; for my part I think we need none, I'm sure our souls are free as any man's: And yet forsooth our bodies must be confined, and that by old men and women too, people by their very natures made unfit for liberty.  Anto. 
Brave Virago! You shall be our Captain Madam in this holy war.  Pach. 
She's my own Sister Sir, you see that.  (of Leandro.) 
This is a modest Gentleman of the Reformation, pray bid him welcome. I and my Tutor have been reading to him and we have hopes of his improvement.  Mar. 
Your friend must challenge welcome here, Brother.  Ism. 
The being a Reformer gives it him in's own right.  Lean. 
You heap your honours too fast on me Ladies, and the obligation is too far above my merit.  Pach. 
There's stuff indeed. Can't you serve her as I told you I would one of your Sisters? But the first fault shall be pardoned.  Lean. 
Still worse it gnaws here.  Aside. Mar. 
Fie Brother, the Gentleman speaks well.  Pach. 
Yes if he would hold up his head a little, and not begin with such a long word as obligation.  Lean. 
I have lost all patience.  Aside. Pach. 
Mark Sir, you should cringe thus, speak two or three half sentences, as, I vow Madam, take me but, and all that. And then come up boldly.  Lean. Aside 
'Tis well you are her Brother. I find  
I must contrive my ends some other way,  
And when she's once a wife she shall obey.  Exit Leandro. Tut. 
You may end your Lecture, the Gentleman's gone Sir.  Pach. 
Gone! then let him live in ignorance.  Mari. 
If you're always thus exact brother, we shall ne'er increase our Company.  Ant. 
You must pardon him, he was always humoursome.  Pach. 
'Tis strange, when People have such opportunities and wont improve themselves.  Enter Pisauro. 
Art thou come dear Rogue? let me kiss the. Here Sisters, share him, this is my second that I told you of. If we meet with any opposition in our great affair.  Pis. 
But that we meet on the design of freedom Ladies, I might easily have been thought rude to have intruded thus.  Is. 
Nothing but your free humour can make you welcome here.  Pis. 
'T would be happiness to purchase it at any rate, but this doubles the favour Madam.  Mar. 
Fie Sir, this sounds too like a Compliment. We should be loath to lose the good opinion we have of you.  Pach. 
Have done for shame or I shall read you one of your friend Leandro's Lectures.  Pis. 
Pray what have you done to make him leave your Company?  Ped. 
Trust me nothing but mirth, but Lovers are humoursome.  Pis. 
Sir, no more.  Pach. 
Come Gallants now we're met, what think you of a Dance?  Anto. 
We want Music and Ladies.  Pach. 
Not so fast good Sir, here's two to four of you, in England 'tis common to go halves, and the women never complain neither. No, no. The Music, is the thing. Oh Tutor for the four and twenty English Violins now. You'd think yourselves in Heaven, Gentlemen, at a new Play. There we stand up with our Mistresses in our hands, keep time and court them to the humour of the air, have one particular sort of strain to gripe at, another for a languishing look. We Italians find fault with your Tramontanes, but we are dull we are dull to them.  Pisa. 
Pray let's defer that for our next meeting; if these Ladies will but honour me to be my guests, I'll take care these wants shall be supplied.  Pach. 
I'll engage for them.  Mar. 
Now we have begun this way of freedom we should be uncivil to deny you Sir.  Ism. 
But how shall we get loose?  Pisa. 
That shall be provided for before we part. It is but just the first time be spent in the public service.  Tut. 
Some Chairs there.  Anto. 
Well proposed, and that the rules of Reformation be decreed by joint consent.  Ped. 
At least that every one should undertake besides the General work, some one particular for to advance the Reformation.  Pis. 
Let's to the consultation then.  Ped. 
First I propose Pacheco be voted perpetual Chairman to the Society; as one of whose faithfulness and zeal we've had sufficient proof.  
All. Agreed.  Pach. 
W' accept the honour Gentlemen, and hope we may deserve it by our future diligence.  Sits down Ant. 
Come Ladies will it please you sit.  Ism. 
Do you use t' admit of women to your privy counsel?  Ped. 
Yes Madam they still have had the casting vote in every Reformation.  Mar. 
Nay then we'll never lose our Privilege.  Pach. 
First I declare my Tutor secretary.  They sit down. Pis. 
You've made a happy choice.  Pach. 
Next, as a thing that's very much conducing to the Reformation, I undertake to regulate and be the pattern of all fashions in the town. To further which my Secretary shall dispatch and keep a correspondence with our beloved pattern England.  Pis. 
Why not with France? they borrow all from thence.  Tut. 
True Sir, and I have known some scores of Gallants that sail thither twice or thrice a year on that design. And are expected by the rest with as much earnestness as the East- India fleet by those that make the greatest venture.  Pach. 
Yes Tutor, but they make some new additions of their own; as your fringed glove, curl of the wig, or cut of the belt, which strikes me strangely. Besides, they much improve the gate and ceremony. And outdo the French in their own way cringe and wadle.  Ped. 
These are Arguments beyond objection. I undertake t'invent a Language for the company, I mean some twenty words or more of constant use. Or sense or not, all's one so long as fashionable.  Pach. 
Good, and the true Genteel English way of wit. You shall have a Gallant pay his devoirs, testify his amours, and make his assignations some twenty times a day.  Ped. 
To this I'll add as many stories too. To which we must refer all our discourse. This serves instead of whispering.  Tut. 
Oh much better; but then the Ladies must engage to seem to understand and laugh at all you say.  Mar. 
That's easy, for we always do pretend to know more than we do.  Ism. 
'Tis but as all that would be thought great wits do, Sister.  Pis. 
I have a project now on foot which will advance the Reformation, but beg I may once more try the experiment before I do reveal't.  Pach. 
It's granted. What say you Antonio?  Ant. 
Why I will undertake for to reform all the old men in Venice to the English way. Expect within a week to see them in their Wigs and with their chins new shaved, like boys of fifteen. Nay more, I do intend for to begin with old Camillo too himself.  Pis. 
'Tis a bold project, succeed or not.  Tut. 
For my part I'll stick to my old way and write you Plays and Songs. I know they never fail. I'll undertake the last new Play or two I writ made the young Ladies more free, and brought more kind couples together, than all the old women or Pages in the Country.  Pach. 
Probatum est. I've reaped the benefit of that myself. What say the Ladies now?  Mar. 
We can only promise for to follow your instructions, Gentlemen.  Ism. 
And that we do in every thing: with a little more experience we may venture to undertake some project of ourselves.  Ant. 
Bravely resolved Ladies. No cause can fail that's backed by two such Champions.  Tut 
Will you give me leave to give you some advice.  Pach. 
Leave? you're Tutor to the Society.  Tut. 
Then first—  Mar. 
Hark what noise is that, for Heaven sake look out. Oh we're undone Sister.  Ism. 
'Twill be in good company then.  Tut. 
'Tis Antonio's Boy.  Enter Boy. Ant. 
Is he coming?  Boy. 
Yes Sir.  Pach. 
Away with these things there quickly.  Boy. 
He is not very near yet.  Ant. 
Go out and give us more notice.  Exit Boy. Pis. 
Ladies, if you follow my advice you may have freedom without fear.  Ism. 
We'll follow any thing to purchase that.  Pis. 
Here only take this Powder, and when your Father calls for wine mingle it with this, within an hour it will make him sleep, and you free.  Mar. 
But is there no danger Sir?  Pis. 
A child may take it Madam.  Enter Boy. Boy. 
He's just here.  Ant. 
Then we have no time for compliment.  Pis. 
You remember your promise Ladies. Come Pacheco you shall go along with me, it shall be hard but I will have a Mistress for you. This does but set thy teeth on edge.  Pach. 
This way, this way, by the back door.  Exeunt, Omnes praeter Mar. Ism. Mariana and Ismena pull out their works. Mar. 
Pray Sister let's be very dutiful for fear he should mistrust.  Ism. 
I warrant you; do you think I am to learn to counterfeit at fifteen?  Enter Camillo. Cam. 
Now I'm pleased, be still thus dutiful, and you shall find me an Indulgent Father. I am contriving something unto your advantage Mariana, you shall hear it shortly.  Mar. 
I shall wait your commands Sir.  Cam. 
That was well said, and for you too Ismena.  Ism. 
If it pleases you Sir I must needs be satisfied, I was always taught to be dutiful.  Cam. 
Thou hast thy Mother's soul. I am o'erjoyed to find thee thus. Where's the Nurse?  Ism. 
I forgot to tell you Sir, as soon as you went out, she was taken with a most violent raving fit. And talked and railed so loud she quite frighted us.  Mar. 
Then on the sudden was struck dumb. And has not spoke one word since.  Cam. 
Poor woman. I'll go see her.  Ism. 
No, pray Sir she's now fast and you'll disturb her.  Cam. Nurse within makes a noise. 
Well thought on. 'tis only rest that must compose her. But hark what noise is that! Again!  Ism. to Mar. 
'Tis the Nurse, for Heaven sake Sister run and ungag her we're undone else, and leave me to my Father.  Exit Mari. Cam. 
What's the house haunted at this time of day?  Ism. 
'Tis only the poor Nurse Sir that wakes in her distracted fit.  Enter Nurse and Mariana. Mar. 
Good dear, dear Nurse.  Nurse. 
Not I, it shall out.  Mar. 
I'll give you my best Petticoat, good Nurse.  Nurse. 
Not all the world shall hire me. Oh Sir!  Ism. 
Pray Sister help me to hold her. Her fit increases, Lord how her eyes roll! Aside Sweet Nurse I'll give thee any thing.  Nur. 
Oh Master! Such a noise, such singing, nay pray Heaven it were no worse, for they were roaring Boys.  Cam. 
She raves indeed, what dost mean Nurse?  Nurse. 
I mean here Sir, with your daughter some five or six of them.  Mar. 
Poor old creature, how strong her fancy is? let's bind her Sir, they say that that will hinder it.  Cam. 
Here's no body but I and you and my two daughters.  Nurse. 
But there was Sir. Heaven grant you have no grandchildren in store, for I begin to doubt them.  Ism. 
Just thus she talked before she slept, a little Opium would do well to settle her. (good Nurse.  Aside Nurse. 
You think to carry it off, but now my Gag's out it shall be known. And how you contrived.  Cam. 
I found them here at work alone.  Nurse. 
I'm apt to think they're work was done before you came Sir.  Cam. 
Pray Ismena, what does she mean by this?  Ism. 
Heaven knows, some sad distraction Sir, I doubt she has been wicked in her youth.  Nurse. 
Come, Come I doubt you are. I see old Age and Service cannot be believed.  Ism. 
Mark Sister, now she's in her crying fit too. I'll call for help and put her to bed.  Enter Servant. Ser. 
Here's a Gentleman without that calls himself Leandro, Sir, has business with you.  Cam. 
I come, carry out the Nurse and let the Maids look after her.  Exit Camillo. Mar. 
I think they had best bind her. Pray Heaven she do no mischief.  Ism. 
Her teeth are all out, she can't bite.  Mar. 
Now what do you think on't Nurse?  Nur. 
I think you're all possessed, for to abuse me thus. All that vexes me, I ne'er deserved it at my Master's hands. But I will be revenged.  Exit Nurse. Ism. 
This is beyond expectation. Pray Heaven our next frolic succeed as well.  Mar. 
I'm strangely afraid of this Leandro.  Ism. 
That's the Melancholy man that was with us, is it not?  Mar. 
The same; if he betray us we're undone yet.  Ism. 
ne'er fear wench, this powder will be one shift more.  
And whether Fortune smiles or knits her brow,  
We can't be worse than slaves, and so we're now.  Exeunt Ism. Mari. Enter Camillo, Leandro. Lean. 
I thought myself engaged besides the particular love I bear your daughter, by my tie to honour to declare this truth.  Cam. 
'Tis very strange.  Lean. 
The Nurse can justify it.  Cam. 
Why, she's distracted Sir.  Lean. 
She might well seem so, abused as she has been.  Cam. 
Come in with me and we'll examine further, and if it does prove true, I stand obliged.  Lean. 
If not, then take your own revenge.  Exeunt. Juliana, Lelia. Jul. 
'Twas well we had this notice, we had been surprised else. What unlucky business brings him back? Now must I be kissed and hugged by one I hate. Phaugh. He said Lysander told it him himself, did he not?  Lel. 
Yes, Madam.  Jul. 
Very well, the more he dotes on's Miss, the more time shall I have with my Gallant, and if he does chance to find me out I have something to cry quit with. In the mean time I'll seem as fond as ever, lest he should suspect me.  Lel. 
Hark Madam, I think I hear him coming.  Jul. 
Yes, 'tis he.  Enter Lysander 
Next I will have you work the dismal story of poor Ariadne's love, and how the cruel Theseus left her, 'twas unkindly done Lelia: But men are not so fond as we.  Lys. 
Pox of your counterfeit pipe, he has been here but fled.  Aside. Jul. 
Art ' come dearest? now thou'rt kind indeed, a sudden joy o'rewhelming me. I was just talking of the cruelties of men, and pitying our poor sex. But I had never yet a cause to doubt of thee. Ten thousand welcomes. I have had such fears.  Lys. 
Lest I should come home too soon Aside. Thou art so fond, I must believe thee, I am o'erjoyed to find thee in this health. Trust me I've scarcely slept since last we parted.  Jul. 
No, you had one that kept you waking Aside Poor Dear I pity thee; you wanted me to sing and kiss thee to thy rest.  Lys. 
Truth is, no Opium causes sleep so much as such a bedfellow.— I hate Aside.  Jul. 
Nay I myself have had the strangest dreams too.  Lys. 
I hope they were all pleasant ones.  Jul. 
They were all of you, you night and day dispose my thoughts. One time methoughts you loved another woman more than me, that troubled me a little, as it would any wife that loves so well as I do. But I believe there are but few.  Lys. 
Heaven forbid there should. Aside That was thy too much fondness, thou canst not have those thoughts awake.  Jul. 
No dearest joy, 'ttwas only in a dream.  Lys. 
That's nothing, for I had such a one of you, but when I waked I chid myself.  Jul. 
Nay, then we're even, and must pardon one another.  Lel. 
There's reason for't, for you are both sinners.  Aside. Lys. 
I am so far from a mistrust, that I dare swear thou art as innocent, as I myself.  Jul. 
I dare pawn my innocence for thee too.  Lel. 
And if you ne'er redeem't 'tis no great loss.  Aside. Jul. 
But why should we talk thus? it looks too like mistrust. Believe me 'twas with me an Age till your return.  Lys. 
The very last hour before mine, seemed months to me too. I would fain have taken you napping.  Aside. Jul. 
Poor rogue, you're thin since last I saw you, you shall not go again.  Lelia. 
A Mistress and a Wife's enough to make any body look so.  Aside. Lys. 
Nay dearest but I must, and leave thee for a week or two, an hour is the longest of my stay.  Jul. 
And of my life. You will kill me.  Lys. 
It shall be with kindness then.  Jul. 
A week! I know thou'rt not in earnest but wilt deceive me thus again, come prithee do, these surprises make thy coming ten times pleasanter.  Lel. 
That was well nicked, to make sure work.  Aside. Lys. 
'Tis too certain, Juliana, that's the least; nay, never cry for't. But let's enjoy that little time we have, come prithee leave.  
They say that married people's Love's decay,  
But mine still grows  Jul. 
And mine,— another way.  Aside.   

ACT IU.  

SCENE I.  Pisauro, Antonio, Pedro. Pis. 
COme hang't, why all this mincing? can you imagine I'm so dull as not to see through it? Ten to one I know the cause of your Mumps; as much, I find the rise of your sullenness. In short Pedro you have a months' mind to measure lengths with Madam Mariana, and you Antonio have as much to a day to try how things will fit with brisk Ismena. Come, confess, confess; I see plainly by your solemn pace and grave contriving looks, you have been running over all the stories in Romances to accomplish your designs.  Ped. 
I must declare that I have no aversion to the freedom of her humour.  Ant. 
And I have seen some faces and conditions which I have liked much worse. But—  Pis. 
Pox on you both! done't you think this sounds very prettily to one that has been an Adventurer, in this trade of love? You must give me leave to know that your no aversion is the height of desire, and your liking much worse is the same with nothing half so well. But this silly love still thinks, because he's blind himself, no body else must see.  Ped. 
Nay, Pray Pisauro, for charity invent some other name, though it should prove the self same thing, for this is scandalous.  Ant. 
No, No, 'tis so, I plainly see all men have a certain time allowed to play the fool, and love in, and this is mine.  Pis. 
This is honest and a friendly part. But why the Devil don't you tell them so? you see we're more put to't to lay the jealousy of old Camillo, than we should be to raise a Ghost, to gain an hour's leisure.  Ant. 
I thought I ventured fair considering 'twas the first time.  Pis 
That's very fine, the first time? is not the Gallant worthy more applause that hits the mark the first shoot, than he that draws a dozen times and ne'er comes nigh the spot? I'm sure the Ladies will commend him for his aim.  Ped. 
But you know the Custom does require Ceremony.  Pis. 
As for customs, our Reformation is designed for to destroy them all. And this first in short Gentlemen, there are but two ways you can design to be possessors of your hopes: either to persuade them to their fashionable way of love, or be content yourselves to marry them.  Ant. 
But neither of these, I doubt, will do, Pisauro; 'tis certain they are too wise and virtuous for the first; too brisk and jolly for the second.  Pis. 
Truth is, their briskness makes me fear they are honest.  Ped. 
Could I find them otherwise, I should soon make an end of all my love.  Ant. 
Faith, thought I formerly have had no great opinion of the other, yet I resolve to try it now, and carry on the Reformation too. Venice shall learn from me the freedom due to Wives. What sayest thou, Pedro?  Ped. 
Nay, I am too much thy friend to leave thee in the greatest hazard of thy life.  Pis. 
Well agreed. I shall give you opportunity anon, if my design succeeds with old Camillo: though I begin to doubt because the Tutor comes not. By this Pacheco and his Mistress have changed a broadside or two; I left them nigh engaging.  Ped. 
There is no danger in the combat I presume.  Pis. 
Faith, not on her side, she has little to lose besides the Vessel, let him board her when he will.  Ant. 
Have you got the Tutor's consent yet?  Pis. 
That I intent to buy with gold and good words, and the money will be well put out to use too; the fool must needs be rich, and the wench I know has wit enough to wheadle him.  Ped. 
But do you think he'll bite home enough to marry?  Pis. 
Yes, I know she'll stand upon her honour, the unknown value of a woman's credit, and twenty such common places they all inherit from their Mothers, and if he once grow hot he will do any thing.  Ant. 
Have you heard any news of Leandro?  Pis. 
Yes, but am loath to tell a story so imperfect; the Tutor will tell us all.  Ped. 
Does that Fellow continue his old humour still?  Pis. 
Without the least change, if not improved.  Ant. 
Prithee put him into 't a little.  Pis. 
You'll repent you, for 'tis intolerable.  Ped. 
No, No, for once we'll venture it.  Ant. 
'Tis much that this fellow that has wit, and is company in every thing besides, should thus besot himself.  Ped. 
Let's work a cure and beat him out of this humour.  Pis. 
If beating would have done he had been well long ere this.  Ant. 
Methinks change of air should work.  Pis. 
No, nothing, he picks out half a dozen young fools where ere he comes, sticks to them till he has talked o'er all he has to say, and then changes. st  Enter Tutor. 
Here he comes, let's dispatch our business first: Welcome Sir, what news? you look as if you'd had a Play hist, or met with some presumptuous fool that would pretend to understand the rules of Poetry in your company.  Tut. 
No none of these, but something that concerns you nearer at the present: in short, Leandro has betrayed all, renounced his covenant, and become Reprobate.  Ant. 
Faith, I expected no better, I knew he must necessarily turn Heretic by this way of living: alas, he drunk nothing but Penitential water and dangerous Coffee, half a dozen such Sneaks would ruin the Republic.  Ped. 
Prithee, what new light or Revelation rules him now?  Tut. 
The old flame of Love, and he goes the old Italian way to work too: makes his addresses to the Father without consulting the woman: Has told of your being there, the Rules of your Reformation; and by this art so wheadled him that he resolves to marry one of his daughters to him immediately; to which end he's just now gone to fetch a Priest. Yonder has been such a Lecture, what between the old man and the Nurse, that the Poor Ladies have been worried.  Ant. 
Which of the Sisters is't?  Pis. 
Ismena, that's it which vexes me, h'as picked the flower out of all our conquest.  Ant. 
But he shall hang before he e'er shall wear her.  Ped. 
No, it must not be; if we let the first rebellion prosper, we betray the weakness of our Government.  Pis. 
I knew him false before, and therefore promised to assist you in your loves, from hence I do renounce all friendship with him as a Traitor.  Ant. 
Thou art truly Loyal. Pray let me beg the freedom to contrive his punishment; if I make him not as wretched and ridiculous as his worst of enemies can wish, trust me with no more affairs of State.  Ped. 
But how shall we escape this danger?  Pis. 
Has be taken the powder yet?  Tut. 
Yes, that's all our hopes. He railed himself so dry that he was forced to call for wine If that works before Leandro comes, we should be freed for the present, the Nurse too has a dose to spoil her talking.  Ant. 
That's well, could we but meet him.  Tut. 
He must come this way, for he went towards the Arsenal.  Ant. 
Then we are safe, let me alone to manage him.  Pis. 
In the mean time let us divert ourselves.  Tut. 
I thought to have met Pacheco here, 'tis certain he must not come nigh home till old Camillo is appeased; nor I neither.  Pis. 
He's in a safer place practising all his Lectures over to his Mistress. I have a project now on foot which if you'll promise to advance you shall want no gold; but of that anon.  Tut. 
I shall endeavour to serve you Sir.  Pis. 
Come Sir you are a judge, what opinion have you of the last new Play?  Tut. 
Faith— well for an essay. I guess the Gentleman's but a beginner. I myself—  Pis. 
Now he's in.  Aside. Tut. 
Writ with the same much success at first, 'twas industry and much converse that made me ripe; I tell you Gentlemen, when I first attempted this way I understood no more of Poetry than one of you.  Ped. 
This is strange impudence.  Aside. Ant. 
'Tis nothing yet.  Aside. Tut. 
There are many pretenders but you see how few succeed; and bating two or three of this nation as Tasso, Ariosto and Guarini, that write indifferently well, the rest must not be named for Poesy: we have some three or four, as Fletcher, johnson, Shakespeare, Davenant, that have scribbled themselves into the bulk of follies and are admired to, but ne'er knew the laws of heroic or dramatic poesy, nor faith to write true English neither.  Ant. 
'Tis very much, I hope Sir your heroic play goes on.  Tut. 
As fast as a piece of that exactness can. I'll only leave a pattern to the world for the succeeding ages and have done.  Ped. 
Oh Sir you'll wrong the world.  Tut. 
No faith Sir I grow weary of applause.  Ant. 
Will you give me leave to ask the way for others to attain to your perfection?  Tut. 
I will not say but that it may be done, but trust me you'll find it hard Gentlemen, and since you are my friends I'll tell you.  Ped. 
You will oblige us Sir.  Tut. 
First I speak of Tragedy, which let the world say what it will and dote on little things, I scribble now and then, as good faith they do Gentlemen strangely; you shall have them— but I don't love to praise myself. Tragedy I says my Masterpiece.  Ant. 
Every tthing you do seems so.  Tut. 
Nay, nay, pray forbear Gentlemen— To go on: I take a subject, as suppose the Siege of Candy, or the conquest of Flanders, and by the way Sir let it always be some warlike action; you can't imagine what a grace a Drum and Trumpet give a Play. Then Sir I take you some three or four or half a dozen Kings, but most commonly two or three serve my turn, not a farthing matter whether they lived within a hundred years of one another, not a farthing Gentlemen, I have tried it, and let the Play be what it will, the Characters are still the same.  Pis. 
Trust me Sir, this is a secret of your art.  Tut. 
As Sir you must always have two Ladies in Love with one man, or two men in love with one woman; if you make them the Father and the Son, or two Brothers, or two Friends, 'twill do the better. There you know is opportunity for love and honour and Fighting, and all that.  Ped. 
Very well Sir.  Tut. 
Then Sir you must have a Hero that shall fight with all the world; yes egad, and beat them too, and half the gods into the bargain if occasion serves.  Ant. 
This method must needs take.  Tut. 
And does Sir. But give me leave and mark it for infallible, in all you write reflect upon religion and the Clergy; you can't imagine how it tickles, you shall have the Gallants get those verses all by heart, and fill their letters with them to their Country friends; believe me this one piece of art has set off many an indifferent Play, and but you are my friends—  Ant. 
You honour us.  Tut. 
Last of all, be sure to raise a dancing singing ghost or two, court the Players for half a dozen new scenes and fine clothes (for take me if there ben't much in that too) put your story into rhyme, and kill enough at the end of the Play, and Probatum est your business is done for Tragedy.  Pis. 
A'n 't you weary?  Aside. Ped. 
No prithee let him run on.  Aside. Tut. 
Then as for Comedy, which I was saying my Genius does not lead me to, but that the world may know I can at idle hours when I please out-write them, I do venture at.  Pis. 
And with success Sir too, believe it.  Tut. 
And faith Gentlemen I'll tell you, there's your French Nation, Pox on 't a kind of Jack-pudding wit, yet hang me if their Plays be well picked, as a scene here and a scene there, it will do it, it will i' faith, I have tried it.  Ped. 
Well Sir proceed.  Tut. 
But your true English and my way, is to write your Plays with double sense and brisk meaning Songs. Take me, you shall have the Ladies laugh at a little bawdy jest as if they would bepiss themselves, and the young Mounsieurs clap as if they meant to wear their hands out in the service; and if you consider, this is easy and a large subject, especially to one that will be at the charge to keep a wench that understands her trade, you can't imagine what hints and pretty things she will pick up. Now Sir, if you can but maintain two or three of those Characters, no matter what your plot is, your love and honour will do here again, and 'tis but saving alive and marrying those that you would kill in Tragedy, and you have done.  Ant. 
We give you thanks for these instructions, and shall endeavour to improve Sir.  Tut. 
Nay, I have not done yet, but if you promise secrecy will let you know my great Arcanum.  All. 
We do.  Tut. 
'Tis this, when I have writ a Play, I pick some Lady out of general acquaintance, or favourite at the Court, that would be thought a wit, and send it in pretence for to submit it to her judgement. This she takes for such a favour— and raises her esteem so much— she talks of nothing else but Mr. such a ones new Play, and picks out the best on 't to repeat, so half the town by this means is engaged to clap before they come.  Ped. 
Excellent!  Tut. 
Besides this, I take some half a dozen youngsters of the town, People that pride themselves in one of my nods or a shaking by the hand at the Coffee-house, and let them have a copy of a Song or two, or promise of the Prologue, which does so much oblige, that I have all the faction of the town that makes a noise on my side.  Ant. 
Trust me Sir these are very great rules.  Tut. 
And such as never fail, but I am resolved to leave, and having made a pattern for the world so long deceived in their opinion of wit and Language.  Ped. 
For heaven sake pity us now Pisauro, and persuade him to keep this for his Aside Preface to the next new Play.  Pis. 
Not I, since you have wound him up, may you be deaf with noise.  Ant. 
Here comes one that will release us then.  Enter Leandro. Pis. 
We must keep him in talk a while.  Aside. 
Leandro here! that's a miracle, where hast thou been for heaven's sake? thou might'st have found the North passage to the Indies since I saw thee.  Lean. 
Troth Gentlemen I have found out as difficult a one to as pleasant a place, and am just going to reap the benefit of my adventure.  Ant. 
We may all share I hope.  Lea. 
No, I'm for ced to monopolise for all the sweets and treasures of the place, if once they're blowed upon or touched by more than one, lose all their value and delight.  Ped. 
Are you the first discoverer that you challenge such propriety?  Lea. 
I've reason to think so, for th' accesses were all guarded by a watchful dragon.  Ant. 
In plain language Sir.  Lea. 
I'll tell you then because I am in haste; since I left you I have been with old Camillo, drawn up writings, agreed every thing between us, and only want a Priest (which is just going thither) to make Ismena mine; was not my passage shorter than ordinary, Gentlemen, and the Island worth discovery? Pray Gentlemen how does the Reformation go forward?  Pis. 
But hast thou no remorse, no pricking all this time?  Lean. 
For what prithee?  Pis. 
Is thy zeal for the solemn covenant so soon forgot? how dares thou sin after this rate and rob a woman of her liberty which thou hast sworn to defend at least, if not procure?  Ped. 
You are too hasty Pisauro, without question he will give her all she wishes and the Reformation asks.  Lean. 
No, you're deceived Sir, though I was English when a bachelor, I'll be a true Italian and myself, when married. I value her credit and my quiet too much to do otherwise.  Pis. 
Then may all Cupids curses light upon thee.  Lean. 
I dare venture ten times more than that blind boy is able to inflict for such a prize, farewell Gentlemen.  Ant. 
Nay, stay and take all with you, may'st thou be impotent in th' height of all thy wishes.  Ped. 
Be jealous, yet never have a cause.  Pis. 
Run mad with dotage and she scorn thee.  Lean. 
Leave, leave I shall grow fat with cursing.  Pis. 
Thou shalt have enough to burst thee then.  Ant. 
May'st thou have Sons, yet never dare to own them, and they beg their bread.  Ped. 
May thy daughters be so rank to dote on Monkeys.  Pis. 
May'st thou live to see all this and hang thyself.  Lean. Laughs 
I'm pleased to see you envy me; and you have cause, for I shall have delights lawful and wholesome too, when I shall meet you trailing of your legs after you or walking upon crutches with but one nose among you. Adieu laughs or will you go with me and believe your eyes?  Ant. 
We will, lead us; and if fair means don't, force shall.  Aside. Exeunt Ant. Ped. Lean. Pis. 
Come Tutor, as we go I'll tell you my design which you must further.  Exeunt. Enter Camillo, Mariana, Ismena, Nurse. Cam. 
Come 'tis in vain to whine, I will not sleep till I have done't.  Ism. 
You may be deceived for all this yet.  Aside. 
Courage Sister he begins to yawn already.  Cam. 
I'll see whether a Nunnery and a husband can reclaim you. Nor shall it go much better with your gewgaw Brother. Are you so rampant, you must make a decoy of my own house to catch your wild fowl in?  Ma. 
Give me some little time for to prepare myself.  Ca 
Oh you have done that to the purpose, sinner enough to spend the rest of your life in penitence.  yawns. Ism. 
There's another, it will do.  Aside. 
Pray Sir let me live there and bear her company.  Cam. 
No, though you're both naught, I'd willingly keep one of you to breed on, and it shall be you, a Nunnery will give you too much liberty.  Is. 
If I must marry give me leave to chose.  Ca 
Your choice is likely to be good by the company you keep; but I've provided for you, you shall be kept so close you scarcely shall have light enough yawns to read your prayers by.  Is. 
That's too cruel, I would pray for you.  Ca 
It must be backward then; thy youth is all the reason I can give to think thou'rt not a witch; O' my conscience thou canst fly, but I'll have your wings clipped, and you put into a Cage for better security.  Nur. 
They have been wild indeed yawns took I what care I could.  yawns. Cam. 
Why dost thou yawn so, thou infects me too.  yawns. Nur. 
You see Ladies though I have no teeth I can find my tongue.  Is. 
I prophesy that you will lose it yet e'er long, for wronging of the innocent.  They both yawn. Enter Leandro, Anto. Pedro, Pisauro. Cam. 
Welcome Son, I was waiting for you.  Lean. 
I've brought my friends along, the Gallants of the Reformation, to see me happy and to take their leave.  Cam. 
I shall take care to reform my daughters from keeping them company, yawns you have spoiled a Son of mine too among you  Ant. 
Who do you speak Sir to?  Cam. 
To you all.  yawns. Nur. 
To you Sir, since you are so brisk yawns this is the very Roister that gauged and bound me Sir.  yawns. Pis. 
Let's look, thou gapest as if thou hadst a gag there yet.  Lean. 
How is't Sir, you look not well; your eyes are heavy too.  Cam. 
Only a little weary and faint yawns with chiding of these wicked girls.  Lean. 
will't please you sit? A Chair there.  Sits down. Nur. 
How is't Sir?  yawns. Cam. 
Pray take away this gaping woman yawns and let us fin— fin— fin— is—  Sleeps. Nurse. 
will't please you to have a little yawns cordial water, or yawns some aqua mi— mirabilis, or— or.  Falls a sleep leaning on Cam. Lean. To Ism. 
Believe me Madam, it proceeded all from Love.  Ism. 
I must obey Sir.  Pis. 
He's fast, he's fast Madam.  Ism. 
Then I am free.  Ma. 
And I shall scarcely say my Prayers in a Nunnery to day; how lovingly they sleep!  Lean. 
How's this! you have not murdered him.  Ant. 
Nothing but a gentle sleep Sir, which does our business as well.  Ped. 
Was you so ignorant to think we'd let thee carry it thus?  Pis. 
What my wise Coffee-drinker overreached?  Lean. 
This is beyond all sufferance, what say you Madam? will you refuse me too?  Ism. 
Oh Sir, I would not marry without my Father's leave for all the world.  Ant. 
Send you joy Sir, we believe our own eyes.  Lean. 
I'll never stay for to be baited thus.  Ant. 
Nay, prithee stay a while, and let me tell you a secret, you'll want news else. We gave this sleeping portion to Camillo and the Nurse, to gain an opportunity of going out to laugh and dance: Remember Sir: and kept you in discourse till this time, when we were sure it would work, for to prevent your marriage: Do you mark Sir? some few hours hence he wakes, and then you may come again and tell your story.  Lea. 
Yes, and be revenged.  Pis. 
If you dare make a second trial, this is but purgatory, you know the next punishment.  Lean. 
Sunk in the height of all my hopes.  Exit Leandro. Pis. 
Well Gallant, I'll before and leave you to wait upon the Ladies.  Ant. 
But whither prithee?  Pis. 
To Lysandro's here hard by.  Ped. 
He's not at home.  Pis. 
But his wife is, that's as good.  Ant. 
Nay 'tis much better; does your furnace stand there?  Pis. 
Ladies I shall wait you.  Exit. Ma. 
Whose within there?  Enter Tutor. 
Pray Tutor call some body to carry these in and set them warm.  Enter Servants, carry off Cam. Nurse. Ant. 
Now have I a strange design comes into my head.  Ped. 
What is't?  Ant. 
You know Gallants I promised to reform the old men; what if we should shave Camillo, head and chin, and let him wake in a great white wig?  Ism. 
For heaven's sake, that would make him irreconcilable.  Ped. 
No, No, that's driving on too fast, we're pretty well advanced.  Ant. 
I only do propose. Come Ladies shall we go?  Mar. 
Yes Sir, I wish our mirth ends well.  Is. 
Fie Sister to think of that before it does begin.  Exeunt. Enter Pacheco, Lelia. Pa. 
I vow to gad Madam nothing but an affair of this moment and that—  Lel. 
Oh Sir you have honoured me.  Pa. 
Oh Gad Madam the honour— and but that I know your goodness Dear Madam— let me perish but— one minute returns me as much your humble Servant, as— your Servant Madam, your servant.  Exit Pacheco.  

Scena Secunda.  Juliana and Lelia laughing. Jul. 
I'm glad to find your new gallant tickles so.  Lel. 
He would make a Nun laugh that's just professed, and that's the sorrowful'st laughs time I can think of; all I wonder at is, that I live.  Jul. 
What's the matter? did he stand upon his head or conjure, that he's such a miracle?  Lel. 
I know not what you mean by conjuring, but all the jugglers at a Carnival have not so many tricks.  laughs. Jul. 
I must get some music for thee, O' my conscience thou art stung wench, prithee leave and speak.  Lel. 
Why Madam all the Painters since the art was found out, ne'er drew half the postures he was in, in less than half an hour, he goes as puppets do by wires. Pray Madam have a little patience and I'll show you. After a shrug and a salute, which he tells me is the new mode, he gives his little whalebone a twirl or two.  Jul. 
Well then I make my curtsy.  Lel. 
Right Madam, than the Devil refuse him. But mine's the pleasantest seat in Venice, and that gives him opportunity to take as strut or two to view the room; but all this time the wig and shirt is ordered, and as soon as e'er the looking glass was spied, out comes the comb, and I had twenty tunes begun and never ended, or ended and ne'er begun.  Jul. 
But what must I do all this while?  Lel. 
Admire Madam, than the posture's altered, and off goes the glove which shows the diamond ring, and out comes the gold Watch, which must be placed with art, for fear the chain hang not out enough to be seen.  Jul. 
Thou'rt a Devil to abuse him thus.  Lel. 
Next he approaches and knows I am a wit by the choosing of my ribbons, and rails at the poor Country Madam, for making him sweated in Summer with her hot colours. Next subject of discourse was the alteration of the mode in Laces; commends my work, and calls all the stitches by their proper names, and in the midst of this begins a new tune, swears 'tis good, and from thence takes occasion to run over all the Plays and his acquaintance with the Poets.  Jul. 
Couldst thou desire better company?  Lel. 
Nay he has not done yet Madam; then he talks o'er all the women of the town, and how Tom such a one, had turned off Betty, and Dick such another kept Mall, and called them all by their names as freely as if he had been Pimp to all the company.  Jul. 
And ten to one their names is all he knows them by, but you must know 'tis modish and a great attainment.  Lel. 
At last when he came into the discourse of travel, I concluded we should ne'er have done, but all o'th' sudden he makes me three or four cringes of several fashions, begs leave for to dispatch some great affair (which I suppose was to look upon some new wig he had bespoke) and he'd be here immediately.  Jul. 
And what dost thou think of him after all this?  Lel. 
You must needs guests Madam, as of a most egregious Fop. I'm beholden to Pisauro for his good wishes.  Enter Pisauro. 
And here he comes in time for to receive my thanks.  Jul. 
I am ashamed to hear thee talk thus, what blessing canst thou imagine greater than a husband that's a fool and rich?  Lel 
Heaven forbid Madam.  Jul. 
Thou'rt an Idiot: Is't not better to have him busy himself with points and ribbons, toys and laces, than to be always grave and melancholy, which in a while will make him jealous too and mark your very looks.  Pis. 
'Tis odds but that you're locked up, and see the Sun but once a twelvemonth, and have no other company but some old woman that does the office of a death's head and puts you in mind of dying.  Jul. 
You see what arts I'm forced to use to cheat Lysander with, such a man as this will manage all your purpose himself.  Lel. 
I will be ruled by you Madam.  Pis. 
'Twas well said, how did he behave himself?  Jul. 
I have had that at full, no more now I beseech you.  Pis. 
How did you carry it?  Lel. 
I took your directions, and had as many modish postures as I then could think on, sometimes thus, then thus.  Pis. 
That must needs take him, did he speak any thing of Love?  She acts several ridiculous conceited postures. Lel. 
I can't tell how to answer you, or what his way of courtship is when he's in earnest, but he commended me as if I was to sell, gripped my hand and kissed it, talked of the power of love and women, and all the time screwed up and down as if he had been nettled.  Pis. 
These are good signs, I shall know all as soon as e'er I see him: Pacheco sings within. hark! I believe he's coming, yes 'tis he I hear him sing, pray withdraw; the Ladies will be here immediately.  Exeunt Jul. Lelia. Enter Pacheco. Pis. 
Save you Sir, you're got off alive I see.  Pa. 
Yes faith, and that's all; hang me Pisauro if she is not the first woman that has moved me on this side England.  Pis. 
I thought 'twas she must nick your humour.  Pa. 
Take me if she has not wit too and demean, understands address and all that.  Pis. 
This character from you will raise her in my esteem.  Pa. 
You must give me leave to understand a little.  Pis. 
You are the only judge, Sir.  Pa. 
Believe me she has the true Court air, takes every thing that's new and modish. I'll swear to you, I have sometimes cast an afternoon away, run through all my common places of discourse, and at the last been thought ridiculous.  Pis. 
You must meet with women that have been barbarous then.  Pa. 
No Sir, 'twas want of breeding and converse, not one in ten that has the least of it. Alas Sir, there's a particular mine, languishing look, and je ne scay quoy, as we say, and all this she has in perfection. Take me, if I don't think there is a perfect sympathy between us. But this thing of friends.  Pis. 
You are Melancholy of the sudden.  Pa. 
No Sir, I am only contriving something to advance our Reformation, and to make us perfect.  Pis. 
It will do.  Aside. Pa. 
And it shall be hard but I'll outdo you all.  Enter Anto. Pedro, Tutor, Juliana, Mariana, Ismena, Lelia. Jul. 
All the entertainment I can promise is your freedom, Gallants, and that you're in a house where you have all things at command.  Ant. 
There's nothing can be added Madam.  Pis. 
Now you honour me, I have invited you to an English treat, Ladies, room and music, you bring the mirth and company with you.  
Some Chairs there.  Chairs set out. Pa. 
I have been so rude as to increase your company without your knowledge, Sir, to day I swore a stranger and invited him, he promised me to bring his Mistress too.  Pis. 
The least acquaintance Sir with you must challenge welcome.  Pa. 
I know you'll like his humour, 'tis free beyond any thing I ever met on this side the Alps. I in a moment found that we were made for one another's company.  Jul. 
That free humour which you speak of brings a welcome with it.  Ped. 
This looks well, we were made for this.  Ism. 
Methinks we begin to live now, we did but dream away our time before, Sister.  Ma. 
It was not half so pleasant; but now you speak of dreaming, Heaven keep my Father fast.  Ism. 
I resolve to think of nothing here but mirth.  Pis. 
Bravely said Madam. Come let's be frolic then.  Pa. 
My Tutor has provided us a dance was made to set off his new last Play in England.  Ant. 
Pray let us have it then, then 'tmust be as proper here as there.  Tut. 
I'll step out and get it ready.  Pis. 
Will it please you sit Ladies? Some wine there.  They go to set two women together. Pac. 
Two women together! let us never begin our Reformation with such a sin, come I'll teach you better, and as Master will begin an English health. Here, here stand a Lady and a Gallant. Now Madam a health to my Miss and your Gallant.  Lel. 
Here Sir, here's a health to my Gallant and your Mis.  Ant. 
Right, Right, fill it about.  Pac. 
So now all hands.  

Fill round the healths good natured and free,  
Let your Statesmen politic be,  
No custom our joys shall defer.  
This is bliss.  
Each Lady has her Gallant, each man has his Miss,  
On this side and this,  
Let us kiss, let us kiss, A lafoy mode d'Angle terre.   Jul. 
If this be an English custom, 'tis a mighty kissing country, this is too much.  Ant. 
Right! I knew she that liked it best would be the first that should complain.  Aside. They all sit a man and a woman. Enter Tutor. Tut. 
Strike up there.  Dance of Antics. Pis. 
Come Sir have you never another health?  Pa. 
A thousand.  As he's going to drink, Enter Lysander, Emilia. Lys. 
Shall I keep my resolution?  Aside. Em. 
Yes prithee do for my sake.  Aside. Pa. 
Dear heart! I wish authority can bid you welcome now.  Lys. 
I thank you Sir, but I can make myself so.  Pis. 
'Slife thou hast undone us man, why this is husband to the Lady in whose house we are.  To Pac. Pa. 
What then he's sworn, and 'tis as common for a wife to make a ball without her husband's knowledge, as for a Nun to say her Prayers; is't not Tutor?  Tut. 
Yes Sir, 'tis nothing, or with their konwledge either: Lysander all this time compliments the Ladies. More, the good man rather than his wife shall lose a kiss, takes her by the hand and tells the next man that comes, my wife Sir, and then she's slavered round the company.  Ant. 
This must be Lysander, what can this come to?  Ped. 
At the worst we must resolve to carry off the Lady's safe.  Lys. 
'Twas kindly done to comfort up the widow Gentlemen, come ne'er disturb yourselves, I'm a sworn Brother.  Pis. 
Resolve to carry't off briskly, there's no other way left.  To Juliana. Jul. 
Art ' come dearest? ten thousand welcomes, you ee what shift I'm forced to make to comfort me in solitude; but all's too little for to make amends for one Lysander.  Lys. 
Dear rogue thou canst not think how much I wanted thee too, you see what paltry shift I was forced to make.  Shows Emilia. Pa. 
She's wondrous fair, Madam—  Goes toward her. Lys. 
Hold, hold, Sir, though I allow all freedom with my wife, you know the English fashion is to keep my Mistress to myself.  Pa. 
I beg your pardon Sir, 'ttwas well remembered.  Jul. 
I see you're angry, but I was forced to seek to ease my grief by any way when you was absent.  Lys. 
Not I, ne'er trouble yourself to make this excuse, I love this mirth; but prithee chuck tell me, which of these is thy Gallant? or do they take't by turns, come prithee do, good faith I count myself beholden to him, he eases me.  Jul. weeps 
I see no faithfulness can e'er oblige you.  Lys. 
Now thou art too modest, for shame Pisauro own her, I know I pay for all that finery.  Jul. weeps. Lys. 
Nay we'll be man and wife still in any place but bed, and that want you have provided for yourself, ne'er trouble yourself. If you do more than e'er I could Pisauro, and she prove fruitful, I promise here to be a Godfather. If I have the same success here, I expect the like kindness from you Juliana.  Tut. 
This is true love.  Pa. 
Now our Reformation goes forward in good earnest.  Ma. 
It amazes me; would I were free from hence once.  Lys. 
Come, come, Gentlemen, be frolic, you seem troubled; Is not this better than slitting of noses or a stab Gentlemen? we can call chuck and joy and twenty such pretty names still, as well as the very best of them.  They offer to go out. 
Nay faith Ladies one dance more for my sake, I shall grieve that I disturbed you else.  
Music there  Dance. Lys. 
Now be but pleased to take a small collation in the next room, and I shall believe you think yourselves welcome.  Ant. 
We'll wait you Sir.  Ma. 
Yet I'm impatient till I'm gone.  Ped. 
There's no danger Madam.  Ism. 
I fear none Sir.  Pac. 
Let me perish else.  To Lelia. Lel. 
You make me blush Sir.  Pa. 
Let me die if any thing's more serious.  Lys. 
Come how is't joy?  Jul. 
Thank thee Dearest.  Lys. 
The world may laugh, and names of scorn invent,  
But to be Cuckolds nothing if content.    

ACT V.  

SCENE I.  Lysander. Lys. 
'tIs strange that we can fasten no such thing as honour upon the Sex, whereas a man's lies every where. Twinge him by the nose, his honour's there, and presently must be redeemed.  
Kick him, and 'tis removed to's backside, and must be engaged.  
But this of womankind is really nothing. For if one unmarried chance to kick up her heels, the reproach returns upon the family.  
Or if a wife prove gamesome more than ordinary, she's thought a wit, and cunning; and 'tis the husband's branded with the name of scorn.  
Now should I go kill Pisauro to redeem my honour: and if I do, die honourably by an Executioner, or fly my Country: Or if I fall myself, they'll cry there died a silly cuckold, worth the while. I thank my stars I'm less nice in these points, and have found out a safer way.  Enter Juliana. 
Welcome dearest, I was sending for thee.  Jul. 
I feared you might be angry.  Lys. 
What for such petty faults?  Jul. 
Nay now you speak as if you did not think me honest.  Lys. 
Not honest? Why you know I have no reason to the contrary: Prithee no more on't, I would make a bargain with thee.  Jul. 
With me Sir? What do you mean?  Lys. 
In short, what is't you're willing to take a year for alimony?  Jul. 
This is harder than the first.  Lys. 
'Tis that, that must be understood, for I resolve to carry on my part in the Reformation by this means. Consult yourself and friends, for I would have you live in credit still.  Jul. 
Pray Sir be plain.  Lys. 
Why thus.  
Write me down so much for clothes, so much for diet, and lodgings: something too for pleasure I'll allow; 'tis the saving English way, and 'tis but reasonable when a wife proves false, she should be stinted, and the overplus should keep a Miss. Come, come, I'm out of my frolic humour now, and am serious.  Jul. 
Now you are cruel, will you quite ruin me?  Lys. 
No such matter, I'll be as civil too as any man, only retrench some small sums you used to spend in charitable uses, as forty pound to such a Nunnery, alias for a new suit; twenty unto such a Monastery, alias a new Wigg: why should you be lavish in your good deeds? There's scarce a Covent in the town but's bound to pray for you.  Jul. 
Pray pardon me, you used to say you loved me.  Lys. 
I pardon you with all my heart; but I'll take care that you shall sin no more with my purse, nor let Pisauro brave it with my wealth, as I know he does; come, it is in vain for to deny.  Jul. 
Nay if you grow angry once, Emilia does so to; why should not I have the same liberty?  Lys. 
There are some thirty and odd reasons to the contrary, besides the common practice; but that which must satisfy you is, I will not have it so, and 'tis in my power to hinder it, remember what I say.  Exit Lysander. Enter Pisauro and Lelia. Jul. 
Oh Pisauro, we're undone.  Pis. 
Come, no such matter, I have overheard it all, if Pacheco marry Lelia, as 'tis almost out of doubt, this sore will soon be healed; besides my fortune's not so very low, but I can live, and your allowance will be fair, I dare promise.  Jul. 
But will you still love me?  Pis. 
I'll double it if possible.  Jul. 
All that troubles me is, I shall want my wealth to serve you with.  Pis. 
Prithee no more, we lose time, Lelia be careful not to seem too coy, but if he comes to steal you let him carry off the prize: Friends, or the grave will soon reconcile Camillo: I must thither and see how affairs go, come courage Madam we can never want.  Jul. 
I fear nothing but losing my Gallant.  Lel. 
I'm resolved to make sure of mine.  Exeunt Omnes.  

Scena Secunda.  Pacheco, Tutor. Pa. 
Am I exact in every thing? the colours suited? and my clothes cut with the modish air?  Tut. 
To a thought: You see what 'tis to employ a Tailor knowing in the fashion. There's nothing like your French cut Sir, you shall have a country Gentleman come to town, and throw away a years revenue on a suit on purpose to be laughed at, hang me if a Livery beened more creditable.  Pac. 
Then there's much in the wearing of them too, why here now, what would this belt be valued at, without I wore it? Now it employs the hands, and gives a grace to all the gate.  Tut. 
I joy to see you thus improved, you may read to me shortly. Oh dear Pupil.  Pac. 
Then there's the cock of the hat, tying of the shirt, fashions of crevats, the wearing of a Wig that's friz or curled, things that alter daily, and that these poor fools can ne'er pretend to.  Tut. 
You amaze me Sir, I shall grow proud of my success.  Pa. 
Take me if I had not rather pass a judgement of a man, from a shake a la mode, wearing of a mistress's faver, or the tying of a knot (there's a perfect Genius shown in that) than from a months converse.  Tut. 
You have reason Sir; these are the things men travel for, trust me you may be a pattern to the very Author of the fashion. Nay if you're once resolved I know you must needs carry her, but—  Pa. 
No more objections good Tutor.  Tut. 
Not I Sir, I see she's fair, believe her virtuous and a fortune, but yet—  Pa. 
More but's yet? now I begin to think thou enviest me, 'tis certain I will do something shall make me chief; truth is, Lysander bid fair for the command, but at the last I've found it, and defy him, and all the rest, to think of Conquest.  Tut. 
May I know it?  Pa. 
Yes on condition you'll not speak a word to hinder my design.  Tut. 
Since you are so resolute I engage.  Pa. 
Then thus. I will to Lelia thus dressed as I am, which certainly must do't, and without the least enquiry after fortune, or consent of friends marry her for love; the height of Gallantry, and top of Reformation, hah?  Tut. 
I may Sir.  Pach. 
Not a word.  Tut. 
I may go with you Sir.  Pac. 
No, I'll have the honour of the action myself, when I return expect me conqueror.  Tut. 
No doubt of that, you'll find but little opposition.  Pac. 
I can but think when 'tis done what pleasures I shall have, and blessed occasions of new words; As, my Joy, my chuck, my dear, my sweet honeycomb, and she answers in as good a stile; for I resolve to teach her all the English words. Adieu.  Exit Pacheco. Tut. 
Send you a fair wind, I've gold depends upon your good success.  Enter Pisauro. Pis. 
Well met Tutor, where's Pacheco? we must not let him cool.  Tut. 
There's no fear: he just now left me, with a Resolution to conclude before he will return.  Pis. 
Then we're happy: his swearing of Lysander was unlucky.  Tut. 
It must be pardoned, 'twas perfect zeal and ignorance.  Antonio, Pedro, Mariana, Ismena. Ant. 
Save ye Gentlemen: what news from Camillo, Tutor?  Tut. 
They were both fast within this half hour.  Pis. 
'Tis much about the time they are to wake.  Mar. 
Shall we beg a favour from you then Sir?  Tut. 
You may command it Madam.  Mar. 
'Tis that you'd watch my Father, and give us notice when he stirs.  Tut. 
I fly to serve you.  Exit Tutor. Ant. 
'Twas bravely carried by Lysander.  Ped. 
That, that pleased me was, he nicked the Reformation too.  Ant. 
To a thought: There if the women be displeased, 'tis but finding a pretence of quarrel, sue their husbands, and the law gives them the thirds of the Estate to keep Gallants with.  Pis. 
I can hardly recover myself though I know I'm out of danger: I would have parted with the little of my Estate to any man breathing for a new Song.  Ant. 
Faith at the best 'twas but a lease, and that fairly forfeited to the Lord too.  Ped. 
What will you take for't now it's renewed Pisauro?  Pis. 
Not renewed upon so good terms as you imagine; but I'll not part with it, whilst the ground bears any crop.  Mar. To Ism. 
'Tis strange the very being women should oblige us to dissemble thus.  Ism. 
You see 'tis true, for my part I do confess I love and would give all the world to marry my Antonio.  Mar 
I Pedro. Know 'tis the only remedy for our misfortunes, yet must not let them know it.  Ant. 
Fie Ladies not out of your fright yet!  Mar. 
Yes Sir we were talking of a greater danger; for though I'm naturally devout, I don't love to say my prayers on force.  Ism. 
And though I have no hatred against mankind, yet to have one thrust upon me thus, goes a little against the hair.  Ant. 
We have proposed a way, that will prevent both dangers, would you follow it.  Ism. 
I run the same hazard of a husband.  Mar. 
And I one worse than that, of being Nun.  Ped. 
Why Madam, can you think it better to trifle time away in telling beads, and change your youth and briskness for Melancholy looks and wrinkles?  Ant. 
And you resolve to sigh away your life some three stories high, make complaints, and talk to the men i'th' ' Arras? That must be your fortune if you wed Leandro.  Ism. 
Suppose all this true, how can you have the confidence to ask us for to marry you? Is it necessary we must break our necks to avoid drowning? Or to shun my father's making us slaves go shackle up ourselves?  Ant. 
As for liberty, you shall make your own propositions.  Mar. 
Which you will keep religiously until you've married us, and then break at pleasure.  Ped. 
How can you imagine to avoid this danger?  Ism. 
Pugh, that we'll think on when it comes, at present we are free.  Pis. 
But to be serious Ladies be your own Judges, is there not something in the Society of men you much desire?  Ism. 
Confessed, but ne'er will purchase it at such a rate as marriage.  Pis. 
Why then you must resolve to be kind without it. 'Tis a hard case if you neither lead nor drive.  Ant. 
That we must be stretched upon a rack, for no fault too, without the least hope of ease.  Ism. 
What can you desire more than this freedom?  Ant. 
Very much: That is the very thing destroys our hopes, were you but simpering, mimping, bridling Ladies, you were sure prize; those sort of cattle are so little used to speak, they think it modesty not to deny you.  Pis. 
Or what do you think of a down demure look?  Ped. 
That never fails neither, I always challenge them, and what they mean for bashfulness, conclude a certain sign of guilt.  Ism. 
You're obliging Gentlemen, there's half womankind condemned already.  Ant. 
Then there's your devout souls, that sigh and whine, have something of Religion in their very gate; and never speak but in a tone of zeal and purity.  Pis. 
Pox on them, I must be hungry indeed to feed there; they are too common, and usually belong to a whole fraternity: If they can but learn to call their sins by new names, they pass for virtues; and she that sins deepest is the truest Saint.  Ant. 
No, no, they're your brisk Ladies that are the hardest conquest. 'Tis true you give us so much freedom, we can't find confidence to ask more, yet when we cast it all up it signifies— just nothing.  Ped. 
Or if we do venture to ask, 'tis but lost labour, you'll never understand us, but wheadleed off with a laugh or some odd story.  Mar. 
Well Gentlemen we're beholden to you that our honour's safe in your opinions.  Ped. 
And that acknowledgement is all the recompense we're like to have.  Mar. 
For all I can perceive Sir.  Pis. 
But consider a little: is there no little inclinations, no beatings here— Madam more than ordinary?  Ism. 
No Sir I can find no such matter.  Ant. 
But suppose that to your freedom I should offer that, which uses to be sweeter to your Sex, Revenge too?  Ism. 
Revenge would do something could I get shut of you once, but I swear you're grown so troublesome.  Ant. 
In short then, Madam, you resolve to lose both, desert the public cause, and—  Ism. 
I have no natural inbred hatred to your person; and Revenge does tempt a little. But—  
Let me die, if I can make objections, I shall hold out no longer.  Aside. Enter Antonio's Boy in woman's clothes. Pis. 
Whom do you seek Lady?  Boy. 
Antonio Sir.  Ant. 
Your Servant Madam, hang me if I knew you at the first glance. Thou com'st luckily: be sure not to be amazed at whatsoever I say or do, but answer me in my own strain.  Ant. kisses his hand. Ism. 
Who is this? they're mighty well acquainted Sir methinks.  Pis. 
Faith Madam I can't guests, she's very fair.  Ism. 
But well: I know some Ladies will not be ashamed to show their faces in her company. Would I could blast that little beauty that she has.  Aside. Ant. 
I thought our loves would ne'er admit of jealousy, but thou art too kind.  Aloud. Boy. 
'Tis you have made me so, I were ingrateful Sir indeed should I not endeavour to return your love.  Ism. Aside 
How's this? Return his love? then I am wretched.  Pis. 
You seem angry Madam.  Ism. 
Not I Sir, 'tis not in the power of man to make me so, Aside but that woman does.  Boy. Aloud 
You think me Sir too free I fear.  Ant. 
No dearest, our old love may challenge this and more.  Ism. 
May they poison thee.  Salutes her Ped. Aside 
I smell it, 'tis Antonio's Boy he courts. And she must love by her concern. Now I'll strike home.  Ant. 
You have your story ready for Camillo.  Boy. 
Yes Sir.  Ant. Aloud 
And you'll not fail to meet me there Dearest?  Boy. 
I shall ne'er deny myself a happiness.  Mar. To Ped. 
But are you sure my Sister will be found so easy as to yield?  Ped 
I only beg the promise that you'll follow her example.  Mar. 
I may have confidence enough in her to grant, and yet show little kindness. Aside at worst it saves my blushes.  Ped. 
That little's all I ask, Madam.  Ant. 
I'll only end a formal compliment or two.  Ism. Aside 
Treacherous base man!  Ant. 
Pisauro, shall I beg you would conduct this Lady?  Pis. 
You honour me with the trust.  Exeunt Pisauro, Boy. Ism. 
Will you go Sister?  Ant. 
You'll give me leave to wait on you Madam.  Ism. 
No Sir, you have your hands full I see already, and may spare your formal compliments. Would you fail your assignation with so great a beauty?  Am. Aside 
As I could wish. She is not ugly Madam.  Ism. 
I don't intent a quarrel on the subject. 'Tis indifferent to me what she is.  Ant. 
I see it is Madam; nor could you blame me for courting her, when I found you so cruel.  Ism. 
I blame you? Why did you not leave Pisauro here, and go yourself? there's no body so fond of your company. Come Sister. to Pedro I hope Sir you'll be so kind as to show us the way home.  Mar. 
Nay fie Sister part friends. to Pedro You see Sir we are like to meet.  Ped. 
I'll take my fortune Madam, Aside and know I have a sure card to play.  Ant. 
'Tis pretty to fall from the discourse of marriage into this of chiding.  Ism. 
Marriage? I'll rather be shut up with Leandro in a grave, than ever have a thought of you.  Ant. 
But I'm sure you will; more, know you must. Nay what is more yet, am confident 'twill be a match.  Ism. 
Now you're impudent. Did I ever show the least kindness to you?  Ant. 
Confessed, but this anger makes me think you have had no unkindness for me.  Ism. 
To vex you, I will confess it true, but add to it, that I hate you now.  Ant. 
'Tis very strange, all that you can say, can never make me believe't.  Ism. 
I tell you I should hate myself, should I ever have the least good thought of you. Nay I shall hate all mankind for your sake, scarce spare my Brother for beginning our acquaintance.  Ant. 
This still confirms me more in my opinion.  Mar. 
This is mad courtship.  Ped. 
I know it must succeed, for nothing heightens love so much as a misgrounded jealousy.  Ant. 
What if I would promise, I would love no woman besides you? is there no hopes of pardon?  Ism. 
No, I scorn it now.  Ant. 
If I swear I never did love a woman?  Ism. 
Nothing. I know it false, and if I doted on you, should hate you for this lie.  Enter Tutor: Tut. 
Ladies, you must thist for yourselves, and that with speed: your Father is awake, has sent for Leandro; and to the Senate, that he may force you home, where e'er he finds you.  Ped. 
You know your old retreat.  Ism. 
I'll die first.  Mar. 
And I'll be as good as my word, and follow my Sister.  Ant. 
Now I begin to find I'm wretched.  
If this unlucky woman had not come I had been happy.  Ism. 
And I more miserable far than now. Come Sister let's fly any whither from these men.  Ant. 
Pray stay Madam, since I have worked you to a height, and am confirmed you love me by this jealousy, know that Lady was my Boy, dressed in that habit to procure your liberty. I knew I had no other way to make this blessed discovery. Will you yet give me leave?  Ism. 
I am worse angry than before to be betrayed by this trick.  Ant. 
Consider Madam you'd better do't, I'll make good my promise, liberty and Revenge.  Ism. 
No, no such matter: it may be I'll vouchsafe to hear your story out.  Tut. 
A minute's stay will ruin all.  Mar. 
What do you resolve on Sister?  Ism. 
Only that I will not have Leandro.  Ped. 
My hopes are fair yet Madam.  Mar. 
You know the grounds on which they stand.  Tut. 
Away I say. I easily guess where this quarrel will end.  Exeunt Omnes. Enter Camillo, Leandro. Cam. 
Never plead for them, to be made the talk and story of all the town, Sung in Ballads, for't will come to that; The careful father gulled, or old Camillo's dream, I can, nor will hear no more.  Lean. 
Threatening will but make them fly your fury: whereas a promise of pardon brings them with submission into your power, and then you may contrive their punishment.  Cam. 
Contrive? do you hear me?  
For the first I'll have a dungeon so dark and straight that she shall grope the way unto her mouth, and have no other air but sighs to live on. The second you should never wed, did I not believe you would invent some lasting terrors unto all that are or shall be Wives.  Lea. 
Trust me with that: but first it's necessary, I seek'em out, and bring them home.  Cam. 
If they refuse, use force; the Senate cannot deny their power to so just designs.  Lea. 
I hope we shall not need it.  Exit Leandro. Cam. 
Never was man at my age so rid.  
To be rocked asleep like a great Baby, whilst they are all a revelling. Well, I shall meet with these dap-chicks: That Jay my son, with the Owl his Tutor, and if I do—  Enter Boy, in woman's clothes. 
Ha! who have we here?  Boy. 
You may wonder at a stranger's rudeness Sir, and why a woman thus intrudes.  Cam. 
By my troth so I do, but the devil's in you all for impudence.  Boy. 
When you know I have necessity and Justice on my side, I cannot doubt but you'll relieve my misery.  Cam. 
A beggar in this garb! be gone, I have no time to hear long stories, nor will to supply your wants.  Boy. 
To relieve my wants will never make you poorer Sir.  Cam. 
The right religious Cant to? you know the way, be gone.  Boy. 
Pray hear me out, and then I know you will have pity.  Camillo turns away, she kneels. 
If e'er you had a Mother, you owed a duty to, or wife you loved.  Cam. 
'Tis a pretty tone this.  turns away. Boy. 
If you have daughters, as I know you have, whose honour you'd preserve from stain: if any thing that's yet more dear, by all I do conjure you to hear me out.  Cam. 
Now am I such a Coxcomb, that though I know it is a cheat, yet I must listen, come rise and begin then.  Boy. 
This most unhappy woman that you see, whose little beauty tears and grief have turned to ruins, yet was once thought fair, till perjury and all that's false weeps O false Leandro!  Cam. 
How! was't not Leandro that she named? What can this mean?  Boy. 
Till he false man by force and treachery, had ravished all my wealth, and left me thus neglected.  Cam. 
Come pray be plain, I'll hear you now with patience.  Boy. 
As soon as grief will let me Sir.  Cam. 
There's no trust in woman kind if this be false.  Boy. 
My Father was a Merchant, and accounted rich, his place of living Candy, whilst alive, Heaven rest his soul.  Cam. 
This must be true, it moves me too. His name?  Boy. 
Fabricio. When the enemy approached our walls, he was commander for this State, and in their Services lost his life. 'Twas that unhappy minute, when I saw Leandro first, whose seeming goodness might have tempted one more wife, than miserable me.  Cam. 
Pray on. I long to hear thee out.  Boy. 
In short, my Mother trusted him with all concerns, her wealth, herself, and me. He lived a while a faithful Guardian. And I (for it must out) too soon loved.  Cam. 
Your name Lady?  Boy. 
Fabia, in a word.  
He promised to convey our family, and riches to this town, did so, but in the voyage, after a thousand vows of Marriage, which we could not then consummate, stole my honour, and ever since hath left me to my grief.  weeps. Cam. 
Blessed discovery, trust me now I pity thee.  Boy. 
If you pity, help me Sir and save yourself, this same Leandro still must needs be false, and will you throw away a Virgin on a perjured man? And if she marries him, I'm lost for ever.  Cam. 
If I find this story true, I'll promise that your Father's name's Fabritio, yours Fabia.  
Hold, I think I hear him coming.  Enter Leandro, Antonio, Pedro, Mariana, Ismena. Mar. Ism. kneel. 
Away, away, I have nothing to say to you. Nor you neither, you may return.  Ant. 
We have business Sir that much concerns you.  Cam. 
Let it be what it will I have no leisure: if you will stay, come not near my daughters, but go you to that corner of the room, you to this; so the devil's in you if you play tricks at this distance. My business is with Leandro.  Lea. 
Your Pleasure Sir.  Cam. 
Only a little scruple, I remember I have sworn, never to match my daughter with a man that had not hazarded his life to serve the State.  Lea. 
That can be no Obstacle. I've served it long, and when our Candy was besieged, sent numbers of the infidels to seek their Prophet in the other world. This my friends can witness.  Cam. 
You knew Fabritio then?  Ant. Aside 
How it works?  Lea. 
Fabritio was my leader Sir, and trained me up to Arms, many a bold sally has he made, and brought back Victory, nor did he tamely lose his life, but fell encompassed with an host of slaughtered enemies.  Cam. Aside 
Thus far we do agree. How fared it with his wife and daughter Sir? I have heard he left both.  Lea. 
He did, and both patterns to the Sex. They shared the common fortune, and when the town was yielded up set sail for Venice.  Cam. Aside 
Right yet.  
How was the daughter called?  Lea. 
Fabia. (What can all this mean?  Aside. Cam. Aside. 
I am confirmed.  
Do you know this Lady?  points to the Boy. Lea. 
No Sir, nor till this minute ever saw her face.  Boy. 
O Perjured man! is Fabia so soon forgot? false, false Leandro.  Cam. 
Pray look again.  Lea. 
May I ne'er enjoy the thing I love on earth, or when I die heaven—  Cam. Aside 
His strong denials make me confident. Consider once again, is not this Fabia?  Fabia 
whom you have wronged?  Lea. 
Neither Sir if you require oaths.  Boy. 
If oaths could have obliged, I never had become thus wretched.  Lea. 
Heavens, that e'er such impudence should wear the shape of women! were't thou not so—  Cam. 
Come, no threats Sir.  
She's in a sanctuary in my house. Take her, and make amends for all your former injuries.  Lea. 
What injuries? you will distract me Sir, give me but a minute for to clear myself.  Cam. 
No, I am satisfied already, and will not be cheated, nor let my daughter run herself to certain ruin. I'll in, and fetch the writing you have given.  Exit Camillo. Lea. 
Hell and Furies.  Ant. 
Save you Sir, how do you like your Island?  Lea. 
Will you never leave your tortures?  Ped. 
This is the hell we told you of, if you ventured to sin again.  Ant. 
As for your new discovery I have taken possession, and it's like to be called by my name; in short I am married to Ismena, Pedro to Mariana, and this Fabia is the Boy dressed up to amuse Camillo.  Ped. 
Here take him, you're so much an Italian, you need not lose your Mistress.  Lea. 
You shall find me more by my Revenge.  Exit Leandro. Ant. 
Thus far our plot succeeds.  Boy, 
do you steal away and get undressed: I would not have Camillo find that cheat yet.  Exit Boy. Mar. 
He's coming: To our places.  Enter Camillo with writings. Cam. 
Here, here, where's Leandro?  Mar. 
Gone Sir.  Cam. 
And Fabia?  Mar. 
Yes Sir but not together.  Cam. 
Then these must be sent.  
Now I have leisure to come to you, Runagates, for though you have escaped this danger, you must not think to go free. I have provided for ye both, 'tis not your powder that can find another remedy, I will not eat nor drink till it's performed. I guess your business Gentlemen, but you may spare your pains.  Enter Pacheco, Lelia, Pisauro, Juliana. Cam. 
What can this prove?  Pacheco Lelia kneel. 
We kneel for blessing Sir.  Cam. 
I give it you; but who's this?  Pac. 
Your Daughter, whilst I call her wife.  Cam. 
Still more wretched? Go fool thou hast undone thyself, and shalt live nor pitied nor relieved by me.  
That I should ever be a Father!  
But I'll study to forget the name.  
These a Nunnery if possible shall save from ruin. In I say.  Ant. Ped. 
That we forbid Sir.  Cam. 
What shall I not rule my own family in my own house? In I say.  Ant. 
They may with justice disobey, they leave their husbands here.  Ant. 
Who thus in duty ask your blessing.  Cam. 
Blessing? e'en the downright Devil take you all, I am gulled, cheated, fooled.  Exit Camillo. Mar. 
Oh Pedro, we can never prosper if a father's blessing be denied.  Ped. 
Never fear Madam, a little patience reconciles all.  Enter Lysander, Tutor. Lys. 
Joy Gallants. Three weddings in a day? the State can never want Soldiers.  Pac. 
There's little joy belongs to me. The Reformation goes on too fast now; for though I like this marrying for love, I hate this damned English way of disinheriting.  Lys. 
What can this mean?  Ant. 
Nay faith the old Gentleman's strangely angry, prithee try what you can do Lysander, your acquaintance has been great.  Lys. 
I will, I'm confident when once he knows your qualities, he'll think his daughters well bestowed, and an only Sons pardon is soon obtained.  Exit Lysander. Ism. 
However it succeed, I'd rather run a thousand dangers than be slave to Leandro's jealousy. This was a brave revenge done like a Master of your Art.  Ant. 
That part of my promise is fulfilled then; but now 't' too late to bargain for your liberty, you're at my mercy still.  Ism. 
I thought it best to trust you.  
I known a promise was sooner broke, than your good nature turned.  Ant. 
However of my own accord I here engage to be true, until I find you false, and then 'll'le take Lysander's pattern.  Ism. 
Then here I promise for you, that you always shall be true. I ever loved the talk of liberty, more than the thing itself.  Ped. 
You Mariana, may challenge all the freedom that you'll take.  Mar. 
I shall take the less, for your giving me so much.  Enter Nurse just awake. Nurse. 
I have found my tongue again, and if I don't rail you all deaf—  Ped. 
Say you so, I have the other gag for you.  Exit Nurse. Pis. 
Pray Gentlemen, reckon it a considerable piece of Reformation, that we have found out two infallible remedies, to cure an old woman's talking.  Enter Lysander. Ant. 
How is't? where is he?  Lys. 
He's come unto himself again, now he considers who you are, and follows me.  Enter Jul. 
Well met Madam, I hope you're pleased.  Jul. 
Since you are so cruel as to part, I must allow you truly noble.  Lys. 
I doubt Pisauro some of these fine feathers must moult.  Pis. 
You're deceived Sir, with these I intent to purchase a rich wife, and pay some of my old scores to Juliana.  Enter Camillo. They kneel. Cam. 
Heaven bless you; and if you can live on that, do. But I am so much a Reformer, as not to part with a farthing of money, without settlement, Gentlemen.  Ant. 
That shall never breed a difference.  Cam. 
I knew your Father well Antonio; if you prove as well, my daughter's happy.  
Yours Pedro, for so I ' me told you're called, is my peculiar friend, and if he likes the match, I will do any thing that's just.  To Pac. 
But what can you pretend to, with your Gimcracks and travels, hah?  Pac. 
I married Sir for love and Virtue, and have heard you say it was your fault (if it may be accounted one) when you took my Mother; I only followed your example.  Tut. 
Well nicked Pupil.  Cam. 
H'as found my weak side, it must not be denied. Well, you shall be upon your good behaviour.  Pac. Aside 
If it comes to that I know I shall soon win him.  Tut. Aside 
I'll give you Lectures for't to morrow.  To Pis. 
My gold's good Sir.  Pis. 
Yes this little Pinnace sails to fetch it home.  Aside. Lel. 
And will bring it too, I'll warrant you.  Aside Cam. 
Come you shall all dine with me, we will be so long friends at least.  
If two of these adventures come off well, I have made a saving voyage.  Ant. 
I have something to do still, which is the Reforming of you Mounsieur Tutor. Nay never shrink, for one of these things must be subscribed to, either choose to renounce your interest in the Society.  Tut. 
That's hard.  Ant. 
Or your pretence to Poetry, and acquaintance with the Muses as you call't.  Tut. 
Harder yet.  Ant. 
Or engage in three months, to produce a Play which shall have nothing in't borrowed, nor improbable, nor profane, nor bawdy.  Tut. 
This is almost impossible, but yet I'll venture, and if my Play miscarries here, set sail for England, where any one of these qualities will make it famous.  Ped. 
Now it's perfect, Antonio.  
We're married, yet can know no jealousy.  Mar. 
And Sister we are wives, and yet are free.  Ant. 
Blessed Reformation!  
All's right, we should have nothing left to do,  
Could we Reform one English custom too,  
That's the damned trade of censuring in you.  
FINIS.    

EPILOGUE.  (Spoken by Mr. Smith.) 
HOw do you like our Reformation now?  
Come, we're amongst ourselves. Here are Wits too. 
pointing to Pacheco and Tutor.   
Or shall's to th' Coffee-house and there debate,  
Each take his Chair and Pipe and judge in State?  
Lord how they wait a Wit that's famed in Town!  
He looks about him with a scornful frown,  
Then picks his Favourite out and sits him down.  
Take me how is't? Have you seen our new Play?  
Yes faith; and how? a half Crown thrown away,  
Pox on't he cries, I Drolled and Slept it out;  
'Twas some Raw Fop: Then proudly stares about;  
Then shrugs and whispers, laughs, then swears aloud.  
The whilst there's silence kept by all the Crowd.  
At length he nods and cocks, is heard to say,  
D— me 'tis true, and thus he damns the Play,  
Rises, looks big and combs, then goes his Way.  
'Tis strange to think how absolute they are,  
When looks, half Words and Oaths, destroy or spare.  
We can expect no favour; these are known  
Foes unto every thing that's not their own.  
And rather too, than that shall want applause,  
They'll clap themselves and that way gain the cause.  
By such like Arts they rule the stage and you,  
And what was Favour first, now claim as due.  
For shame use your Authority and free  
Yourselves from these usurpers Tyranny,  
ne'er wait their censure more, but let them know  
You have the power that they pretended to.  
They wheadle you to clap bad plays they write:  
To be revenged do you clap this to night.  
But Ladies you our Author hopes to find  
In your own Cause and for your own sakes kind,  
Since 'tis the first design of's Poetry  
Both how to gain and give you Liberty.