WIT At several Weapons.  

Actus primus,  

Scaena prima.  Enter Sir Perfidious Old-craft an old Knight, and Witty-pate his Son. Witty. 
SIr i'm no Boy, i'm deep in one and twenty,  
The second year's approaching.  Old K. 
A fine time  
For a youth to live by his wits then I should think,  
If e'er he mean to make account of any.  Witty. 
wit's Sir?  Old K. 
I wit's Sir, if it be so strange to thee,  
I'm sorry I spent that time to get a Fool,  
I might have employed my pains a great deal better;  
Thou know'st all that I have I ha got by my wits,  
And yet to see how urgent thou art too;  
It grieves me thou art so degenerate  
To trouble me for means, I never offered it:  
My Parents from a Schoolboy, past nineteen once,  
See what these times are grown too, before twenty  
I rushed into the world, which is indeed  
Much like the Art of Swimming, he that will attain to't  
Must fall plump, and duck himself at first,  
And that will make him hardy and adventurous,  
And not stand putting in one foot and shiver,  
And then draw t'other after, like a quake-buttock;  
Well he may make a paddler i' the world,  
From hand to mouth, but never a brave swimmer,  
Borne up by th' chin as I bore up myself▪  
With my strong industry that never failed me;  
For he that lies borne up with Patrimonies,  
Looks like a long great Ass that swims with bladders,  
Come but one prick of adverse fortune to him  
He sinks, because he never tried to swim  
When wit plays with the billows that choked him.  Witty. 
Why is it not a fashion for a Father Sir,  
Out of his yearly thousands, to allow  
His only son a competent brace of hundreds,  
Or such a toy?  Old K. 
Yes, if he mean to spoil him,  
Or mar his wits he may, but never I  
This is my humour Sir, which you'll find constant;  
I love wit so well because I lived by't,  
That I'll give no man power out of my means to hurt it,  
And that's a kind of gratitude to my raiser,  
Which great ones oft forget; I admire much  
This age's dulness, when I scarce writ man,  
The first degree that e'er I took in thriving,  
I lay intelligencer close for wenching,  
Could give this Lord or Knight a true Certificate  
Of all the Maidenheads extant, how many lay  
'Mongst Chambermaids, how many 'mongst Exchange Wenches,  
Though never many there I must confess,  
They have a trick to utter ware so fast;  
I knew which Lady had a mind to fall,  
Which Gentlewoman new divorced, which Tradesman breaking,  
The price of every sinner to a hair,  
And where to raise each price; which were the termers  
That would give Velvet Petticoats, Tissue Gowns,  
Which Pieces, Angels, Suppers, and Half crowns;  
I knew how to match and make my market,  
Could give intelligence where the Pox lay ledger,  
And then to see the Lechers shift a point,  
'Twas sport and profit too; how they would shun  
Their adored Mistress chambers, and run fearfully,  
Like Rats from burning houses, so brought I  
My Clients o' the game still safe together,  
And noble Gamesters loved me, and I felt it:  
Give me a man that lives by his wits say I,  
And never left a Groat, there's the true Gallant.  
When I grew somewhat pursy, I grew then  
In men's opinions too, and confidences,  
They put things called Executorships upon me,  
The charge of Orphans, little senseless creatures,  
Whom in their childhoods I bound forth to Feltmakers,  
To make 'em lose and work away their Gentry,  
Disguise their tender natures with hard custom,  
So wrought 'em out in time, there I rise ungently,  
Nor do I fear to discourse this unto thee,  
I'm armed at all points against treachery,  
I hold my humour firm, if I can see thee thrive by  
Thy wits while I live, I shall have the more courage  
To trust thee with my Lands when I die; if not,  
The next best wit I can hear of carries 'em:  
For since in my time and knowledge so many rich Children  
Of the City conclude in beggary, I'd rather  
Make a wise stranger my Executor, than a foolish  
Son my Heir, and to have my Lands called after my  
Wit, thou after my name; and that's my nature.  Witty. 
'Tis a strange harsh one, must I still shift then?  
I come brave cheats, once to my trade again,  
And I'll ply't harder now than e'er I did for't,  
You'll part with nothing then, Sir?  Old K. 
Not a jot Sir.  Witty. 
If I should ask you blessing ere I go Sir,  
I think you would not give't me.  O. K. 
Let me but hear thou liv'st by thy wits once  
Thou shalt have any thing, thou'rt none of mine else,  
Then why should I take care for thee?  Witty. 
'Thank your bounty. Exit  O. K. 
So wealth love me, and long life, I beseech it,  
As I do love the man that lives by his wits,  
He comes so near my nature; i'm grown old now,  
And e'en arrived at my last cheat I fear me,  
But 'twill make shift to bury me, by daylight too,  
And discharge all my Legacies, 'tis so wealthy,  
And never trouble any Interest money:  
i've yet a Niece to wed, over whose steps  
I have placest a trusty watchful Guardiness,  
For fear some poor Earl steal her, 't has been threatened  
To redeem mortgaged Land, but he shall miss on't;  
To prevent which, I have sought out a match for her,  
Fop of Fop-hall, he writes himself, I take it,  
The ancient ancient'st Fop in England, with whom i'm privately  
Compounded for the third part of her Portion,  Enter Sir Gregory Fop, and Cuningham. 
And she seems pleased, so two parts rest with me,  
he's come; Sir Gregory, welcome, what's he Sir?  Sir Greg. 
Young Cunningham, a Norfolk Gentleman,  
One that has lived upon the Fops, my kindred,  
Ever since my remembrance; he's a wit indeed,  
And we all strive to have him, nay, 'tis certain  
Some of our name has gone to Law for him;  
Now 'tis my turn to keep him, and indeed  
he's plaguy chargeable as all your wit, are,  
But I will give him over when I list,  
I ha' used wits so before.  O. K. 
Hope when you're married Sir you'll shake him off.  Sir Greg. 
Why what do you take me to be, old Father in-law that shall be, do you think I'll have any of the Wits hang upon nigh after I am married once? none of my kindred ever had before me; but where's this Niece? is't a fashion in London to marry a woman and never see her?  O. K. 
Excuse the niceness Sir, that cares your friend,  
Perhaps had she Been seen, you had never seen her;  
There's many a spent-thing called an't like your honour,  
That lies in wait for her at first snap, she's a Countess,  
Drawn with six Mares through Fleetstreet, and a Coachman,  
Sitting Bareheaded to their Flanders buttocks,  
This whets him on.  Sir Greg. 
Pray let's clap up the business Sir,  
I long to see her, are you sure you have her,  
Is she not there already? Hark, O hark.  O. K. 
How now, what's that Sir?  Sir. Greg. 
Every caroche goes by,  
Goes e'en toth' heart of me.  O. K. 
I'll have that doubt eased Sir,  
Instantly cased, Sir Gregory, and now I think on't  
A toy comes i' my mind, seeing your friend there,  
we'll have a little sport, give you but way to't,  
And put a trick upon her, I love wit preciously,  
You shall not be seen yet, we'll stale your friend first,  
If't please but him to stand for the Antimask.  Sir Greg. 
Puh, he shall stand for any thing, why his supper  
Lies i' my breeches here, I'll make him fast else.  O. K. 
Then come you forth more unexpectedly  
The Mask itself, a thousand a year jointure,  
The cloud your friend will be then drawn away,  
And only you the beauty of the Play.  Sir Greg. 
For Red and Black I'll put down all your Fuller  
Let but your Niece bring White, and we have three Cullours. Exit Sir Greg.  O. K. 
I'm given to understand you are a Wit Sir.  Cunning. 
I'm one that Fortune shows small favour to Sir.  O. K. 
Why there you conclude it, whether you will or no Sir;  
To tell you truth, i'm taken with a wit.  Cun. 
Fowlers catch Woodcocks so, let not them know so much,  O. K. 
A Pestilence mazzard, a Duke Humphrey spark  
Had rather lose his Dinner than his Jest,  
I say, I love a wit the best of all things.  Cun. 
Always except yourself.  O. K. 
Has gin't me twice now,  Enter Niece and Guardionesse. 
All with a breath, I thank him; but that I love a wit  
I should be heartily angry; cuds, my Niece,  
You know the business with her,  Cun. 
With a woman?  
'Tis e'en the very same it was i'm sure  
Five thousand years ago, no fool can miss it.  O. K. 
This is the Gentleman I promised Niece,  
To present to your affection.  Cun. 
'Ware that Arrow.  O. K. 
Deliver me the truth now of your liking.  Cun. 
I'm spoiled already, that such poor lean Game  
Should be found out as I am.  O. K. 
Go set too her Sir— ha, ha, ha.  Cun. 
How noble is this virtue in you Lady,  
Your eye may seem to commit thousand slaughters  
On your dull servants, which truly tasted  
Conclude all in comforts.  O. K. 
Puh.  Niece. 
It rather shows what a truth worth can make,  
Such as yours is.  O. K. 
And that's not worth a groat,  
How like you him Niece?  Niece. 
It shall appear how well Sir,  
I humbly thank you for him.  O. K. 
Hah? ha, good gullery, he does it well i'faith,  
Light, as if he meant to purchase lip-land there:  
Hold, hold, bear off I say, slid your part hangs too long.  Cun. 
My joys are mockeries.  Niece. 
Y'ave both expressed a worthy care and love Sir,  
Had mine own eye been set at liberty,  
To make a public choice (believe my truth Sir)  
It could not ha' done better for my heart  
Then your good providence has.  O. K. 
You will say so then,  
Alas sweet Niece, all this is but the scabbard,  
Now I draw forth the weapon.  Niece. 
How?  O. K. 
Sir Gregory,  
Approach thou Lad of thousands.  Enter Sir Gregory. Sir Greg. 
Who calls me?  Niece. 
What motion's this? the Model of Niniveh?  O. K. 
Accost her daintily now, let me advise thee.  Sir Greg. 
I was advised to bestow dainty cost on you.  Niece. 
You were ill advised, back, and take better counsel;  
You may have good for an Angel, the least cost  
You can bestow upon a woman Sir  
Trebles ten Counsellors Fees, in Lady-ware,  
You're over head and ears ere you be aware,  
Faith keep a Bachelor still, and go to bowls Sir,  
Follow your Mistress there, and prick and save Sir,  
For other Mistresses will make you a slave Sir.  Sir Greg. 
So, so, I have ray lirripoop already.  O. K. 
Why how now Niece, this is the man I tell you.  Niece. 
He, hang him Sir, I know you do but mock,  
This is the man you would say.  O. K. 
The Devil rides I think.  Cun. 
I must use cunning here.  O. K. 
Make me not mad, use him with all respect,  
This is the man I swear.  Niece. 
Would you could persuade me to that;  
Alas, you cannot go beyond me Uncle.  
You carry a lest well I must confess,  
For a man of your years, but—  O. K. 
I'm wrought beside myself.  Cun. 
I never beheld comeliness till this minute.  Guar. 
O good sweet Sir, pray offer not these wards  
To an old Gentlewoman.  Niece. 
Sir.  Cun. 
Away fifteen,  
Here's fifty one exceeds thee.  Niece. 
What's the business?  Cun. 
Give me these motherly creatures, come, ne'er smother it,  
I know you are a teeming woman yet.  Guard. 
Troth a young Gent. might do much I think Sir  Cun. 
Go too then.  Guard. 
And I should play my part, or I were ingrateful.  Niece. 
Can you so soon neglect me?  Cun. 
Hence, i'm busy.  O. K. 
This cross point came in luckily, impudent Baggage.  
Hang from the Gentleman, art thou not ashamed  
To be a widow's hindrance?  Cun. 
Are you angry Sir?  O. K. 
You're welcome, pray court on, I shall desire  
Your honest wise acquaintance; vex me not  
After my care and pains to find a match for thee,  
Lest I confine thy life to some out chamber,  
Where thou shalt waste the sweetness of thy youth,  
Like a consuming light in her own socket,  
And not allowed a male creature about thee;  
A very monkey thy necessity  
Shall prize at a thousand pound a Chimney-sweeper  
At fifteen hundred.  Niece. 
But are you serious Uncle?  O. K. 
Serious.  Niece. 
Pray let me look upon the gentleman  
With more heed, than I did but hum him over  
In haste, good faith, as lawyer's Chancery sheets;  
Beshrew my blood a tolerable man,  
Now I distinctly read him.  Sir Greg. 
Hum, hum, hum.  Niece. 
Say he be black, he's of a very good pitch,  
Well ankled, two good confident calves, they look  
As if they would not shrink at the ninth child;  
The redness i'th' face, why that's in fashion,  
Most of your high bloods have it, sign of greatness marry;  
'Tis to be taken down too with May butter,  
I'll send to my Lady spend-tail for her Medicine.  Sir Greg. 
Lum te dum, dum, dum, de dum.  Niece. 
he's qualified too, believe me.  Sir Greg. 
Lum to dumb, de dum, de dum.  Niece. 
Where was my judgement?  Sir Greg. 
Lum te dum, dum, dum, te dum, te dum.  Niece. 
Perfections covered mess.  Sir Greg. 
Lum te dum, te dum, te dum.  Niece. 
It smokes apparently, pardon sweet Sir  
The error of my Sex.  O. K. 
Why well said Niece,  
Upon submission you must pardon her now Sir.  Sir Greg. 
I'll do't by course, do you think i'm an ass Knight?  
Here's first my hand, now't goes to the Seal Office.  O. K. 
Formally finished, how goes this Suit forward?  Cun. 
I'm taking measure of the widow's mind Sir,  
I hope to fit her heart.  Guard. 
Who would have dreamt  
Of a young morsel now? things come in minutes.  Sir Greg. 
Trust him not widow, he's a younger Brother,  
he'll swear and lie; believe more he's worth nothing.  Guard. 
He brings more content to a woman with that nothing,  
Than he that brings his thousands without any thing,  
We have precedents for that amongst great Ladies.  O. K. 
Come, come, no Language now shall be in fashion,  
But your Love-phrase the bell to procreation. Exeunt.  Enter Sir Ruinous Gentry, Witty-pate, and Priscian. Witty. 
Pax, there's nothing puts me besides my wits, but this fourth,  
This lay illiterate share, there's no conscience in 't.  Ruin. 
Sir, it has ever been so where I have practised, and must be  
Sill where I am, nor has it been undeserved at the years  
End, and shuffle the Almanac together, vacations and  
Term-times one with another, though I say't, my wife is a  
Woman of a good spirit, than it is no lay-share.  Pris. 
Faith for this five year, Ego possum probare, I have had  
A hungry penurious share with 'em, and she has had as much  
As I always.  Witty. 
Present or not present?  Pris. 
Residens aut non residens, perfidem.  Witty. 
And what president's this for me? because your Hic & hac, Turpis and Qui mihi discipulus brains (that never got any thing but by accidence and uncertainty) did allow it, therefore I must, that have grounded conclusions of wit, hereditary rules for my Father to get by.  Ruin. 
Sir be compendious, either take or refuse, I will bate no token of my wife's share, make even the last reckonings, and either so unite or here divide company.  Pris. 
A good resolution, profecto, let every man beg his own way, and happy man be his dole.  Witty. 
Well, here's your double share, and single brains Pol, edipo, here's toward, a Caster ecastor for you, I will endure it a fortnight longer, but by these just five ends—  Pris. 
Take heed, five's odd, put both hands together or severally they are all odd unjust ends.  Witty. 
Medeius sidius, hold your tongue, I depose you from half a share presently else, I will make you a participle and decline you, now you understand me, be you a quiet conjunction amongst the undeclined; you and your Latin ends shall go shift, Solus cum solo together else, and then if ever they got ends of gold and silver enough to serve that Gerundine maw of yours, that without Do will end in Di & Dum instantly.  Enter Old Knight and Sir Gregory. Ruin. 
Enough, enough, here comes company, we lose five shares in wrangling about one.  Witty. 
My Father, put on Priscian, he has Latin fragments too, but I fear him not, I'll case my face with a little more hair and relieve.  O. K. 
Tush Nephew (I'll call you so) for if there be  
No other obstacles then those you speak of  
They are but powder charges without pellets,  
You may safely front 'em; and warrant your own danger.  Sir Greg. 
No other that I can perceive i'faith Sir, for I put her to't, and felt her as far as I could, and the strongest repulse was, she said, she would have a little Soldier in me, that (if need were) I should defend her reputation.  O. K. 
And surely Sir, that is a principle  
Amongst your principal Ladies, they require  
Valour either in a friend or a husband.  Sir Greg. 
And I allow their requests i'faith, as well as any woman's heart can desire, if I knew where to get valour, I would as willingly entertain it as any man that blows.  O. K. 
Breathes, breathes Sir, that's the sweeter phrase.  Sir Greg. 
Blows for a Soldier, i'faith Sir, and i'm in  
practice that way.  O. K. 
For a Soldier, I grant it.  Sir Greg. 
Slid I'll swallow some bullets, and good round ones too, but I'll have a little Soldier in me.  Ruin. 
Will you on and beg, or steal and be hanged.  Sir Greg. 
And some Scholar she would have me besides,  
Tush, that shall be no bar, 'tis a quality in a  
Gentleman, but of the least question.  Pris. 
Salvete Domini benignissimi, munificentissimi.  O. K. 
Salvete dicis ad nos? fubeo te salvere,  
Nay Sir, we have Latin and other mettle in us too,  
Sir, you shall see talk with this fellow now.  Sir Greg. 
I could find in my heart to talk with him too,  
If I could understand him.  Pris. 
Charissimi, Doctissimique. Domini, ex abundantia,  
Charitatis vestrae estote poopitii in me junenem,  
Miserum, pauperem, & omni consolatione exulem.  O. K. 
A pretty Scholar by my faith Sir, but I'll to him again.  Sir Greg. 
Does he beg or steal in this Language can you tell Sir?  
He may take away my good name from me, and I ne'er  
The wiser.  O. K. 
He begs, he begs Sir.  Pris. 
Ecce, ecce, in oculis lacrymarum flumen, in ore  
Fames, sitisque. ignis in vultu, pudor & impudentia,  
In omni parte necessitas & indigentia.  O. K. 
Audi tu bonus socius, tu es Scolasticus, sic intelligo,  
Ego faciam argumentum, mark now Sir, now I fetch  
Him up.  Sir Greg. 
I have been fetched up a hundred times for this,  
Yet I could never learn half so much.  O. K. 
Audi, & respond, hoc est Argumentum, nomen est  
Nomen, ergo, quod est tibi nomen, Respond nunc,  
Respond argumentum meum. Have I not put him to't Sir?  Sir Greg. 
Yes Sir, I think so.  Witty. 
Step in, the rascal is put out of his penned speech,  
And he can go no farther.  O. K. 
Cur non responds?  Pris. 
Oh Domine, tanta mea est miseria.  Witty. 
So he's almost in again.  Pris. 
Ut nocte mecum pernoctat egestas, luce quotidie  
Paupertat habitat.  O. K. 
Sed quid est tibi nomen, & quis dedit? Respond  
Argumentum.  Pris. 
Hem, hem.  Witty. 
He's dry, he hems, on quickly.  Ruin. 
Courteous Gentlemen, if the brow of a Military face may not be offensive to your generous eyeballs, let his wounds speak better than his words, for some branch or small sprig of charity to be planted upon this poor barren soil of a Soldier.  O. K. 
How now, what Arms and Arts both go a-begging?  Ruin. 
Such is the post-progress of cold charity nowadays, who (for heat to her frigid limbs) passes in so swift a motion, that two at the least had need be to stay her.  Sir Greg. 
Sir, let's reward 'em I pray you and be gone, if any quarrel should arise amongst us, I am able to answer neither of them, his Iron and Steel tongue is as hard as the tother's Latin one.  O. K. 
Stay, stay Sir, I will talk a little with him first,  
Let me alone with both, I will try whether they  
Live by their wits or no; for such a man I love,  
And what? you both beg together then?  Pris. 
Conjunctis manibus, profecto, Domine.  Ruin. 
With equal fortunes equal distribution, there's not the breadth of a sword's point uneven in our division.  Sir Greg. 
What two qualities are here cast away upon two poor fellows, if a man had 'em that could maintain 'em, what a double man were that, if these two Fellows might be bought and sodden, and boiled to a jelly, and eaten fasting every morning, I do not think but a man should find strange things in his stomach.  O. K. 
Come Sir, join your charity with mine, and we'll make up a couple of pence betwixt us.  Sir Greg. 
If a man could have a pennyworth for his penny, I would bestow more money with 'em.  Witty. 
Save you Gentlemen, how now? what are you encountered here? what fellows are these?  O. K. 
'Faith Sir, here's Mars and Mercury, a pair of poor Planets it seems, that Jupiter has turned out to live by their wits, and we are e'en about a little spark of charity to kindle 'em a new fire.  Witty. 
Stay, pray you stay Sir, you may abuse your charity, nay make that goodness in you no better than a vice, so many deceivers walk in these shadows nowadays, that certainly your bounties were better spilled than reserved to so lewd and vicious uses; which is he that professes the Soldier?  Ruin. 
He that professes his own profession Sir, and the dangerous life he hath led in it this pair of half score years.  Witty. 
In what services have you been Sir?  Ruin. 
The first that fleshed me a soldier Sir, was that great battle at Aleazar in barbary, where the noble English Stukely fell, and where that royal Portugal Sebastian ended his untimely days.  Witty. 
Are you sure Sebastian died there?  Ruin. 
Faith Sir, there was some other rumour hoped amongst us, that he wounded escaped, and touched on his Native shore again, where finding his Country at home more distressed by the invasion of the Spaniard then his loss abroad, forsook it, still supporting a miserable and unfortunate life, which (where he ended) is yet uncertain.  Witty. 
By my faith Sir, he speaks the nearest same of truth in this.  Ruin. 
Since Sir, I served in France, the Low Countries, lastly, at that memorable Skirmish at Newport, where the forward and bold Scot there spent his life so freely, that from every single heart that there fell, came home from his resolution a double honour to his country.  Witty. 
This should be no counterfeit, Sir.  O. K. 
I do not think he is, Sir.  Witty. 
But Sir, methinks you do not show the marks of a Soldier, could you so freely scape, that you brought home no scars to be your chronicle?  Ruin. 
Sir, I have wounds and many, but in those parts where nature and humanity bids me shame to publish.  Witty. 
A good Soldier cannot want those badges.  Sir Greg. 
Now am not I of your mind in that, for I hold him the best soldier that scapes best, always at a Cock-fencing I give him the best that has the fewest knocks.  Witty. 
Nay I'll have a bout with your Scholar too,  
To ask you why you should be poor (yet richly learned)  
Were no question, at least you can easily  
Answer it; but whether you have learning enough,  
To deserve to be poor or no (since poverty is  
Commonly the meed of Learning) is yet to be tried;  
You have the Languages, I mean the chief,  
As the Hebrew, SyriacK, Greek, Latin, etc.  Pris. 
Aliquantulum, non totaliter, Domine.  O.K. 
The Latin I have sufficiently tried him in,  
And I promise you Sir he is very well grounded.  Witty. 
I will prove him in some of the rest.  
Tois miois fatherois iste Cockscomb boy?  Pris. 
Kay yonkeron niggitton oy fouleroi Asinisoy.  Witty. 
Cheateron ton biton?  Pris. 
Tous pollous strikerous, Angelo to peeso.  Witty. 
Certainly Sir, a very excellent Scholar in the Greek.  O. K. 
I do note a wondrous readiness in him.  Sir Greg. 
I do wonder how the Trojans could hold out ten years' Siege (as 'tis reported) against the Greeks, if Achilles spoke but this Tongue? I do not think but he might have shaken down the walls in a seventh-night, and ne'er troubled the wooden horse.  Witty. 
I will try him so far as I can in the Syriack.  
Kircom bragmen, shag a dou ma dell mathou.  Pris. 
Hashagath rabgabash shobos onoriadka.  Witty. 
Colpack Rubasca, gnawerthem shigshag.  
Napshamothem Ribsbe bongomosh lashemech nagothi.  Witty. 
Gentlemen I have done, any man that can, go further,  
I confess myself at a Nonplus.  Sir Greg. 
Faith not I Sir, I was at my farthest in my natural Language, I was never double-tongued I thank my hard fortune.  Witty. 
Well Gentlemen, 'tis pity (walk further off a little my friends) I say, 'tis pity such fellows so endowed, so qualified with the gifts of Nature and Arts, yet should have such a scarcity of fortunes benefits, we must blame our Iron-hearted age for it.  O. K. 
'Tis pity indeed, and our pity shall speak a little for 'em;  
Come Sir, here's my Groat.  Witty. 
A Groat Sir? oh fie, give nothing rather, 'twere better you railed on 'em for begging and so quit yourself, I am a poor Gentleman, that have little but my wits to live on.  O. K. 
Troth and I love you the better, Sir.  Witty. 
Yet I'll begin a better example than so, here fellows, there's between you, take Purse and all, and I would it were heavier for your sakes, there's a pair of Angels to guide you to your lodgings, a poor Gentleman's good will.  Pris. 
Gratias, maximas gratias, benignissime Domine.  O. K. 
This is an ill example for us, Sir, I would this bountiful Gentleman had not come this way today.  Sir Greg. 
Pox, we must not shame ourselves now, Sir, I'll give as much as that Gentleman, though I never be Soldier or Scholar while I live; here friends, there's a piece, that if he were divided would make a pair of Angels for me too, in the love I bear to the Sword and the Tongues.  O. K. 
My largesse shall be equal too, and much good do you, this bounty is a little abatement of my wit though, I feel that.  Ruin. 
May soldiers ever defend such charities.  Pris. 
And Scholars pray for their increase.  O. K. 
Fare you well Sir, these fellows may pray for you, you have made the scholar's commons exceed today, and a word with you, Sir, you said you lived by your wits, if you use this bounty you'll beggar your wits believe it.  Witty. 
Oh Sir, I hope to increase 'em by it, this seed never wants his harvest, fare you well, Sir. Exit  Sir Greg. 
I think a man were as good mere with a reasonable Thief, as an unreasonable Beggar sometimes, I could find in my heart to beg half mine back again, can you change my piece my friends?  Pris. 
Tempora mutantur, & nos mutamur in illis.  Sir Greg. 
My Gold is turned into Latin,  Enter Witty-pate. 
Look you good fellows, here's one round  
Shilling more that lay concealed.  O. K. 
Sir, away, we shall be drawn farther into damage else.  Sir Greg. 
A pox of the Fool, he live by his wits? if his wits leave him any money but what he begs or steals very shortly, I'll be hanged for him.  Exeunt the two Knights. Ruin. 
This breakfast parcel was well fetched of i'faith.  Witty. 
Tush, a byblow for mirth, we must have better purchase, we want a fourth for another project that I have ripened.  Ruin, 
My wife, she shares, and can deserve it.  Witty. 
She can change her shape, and be masculine.  Ruin. 
'Tis one of the freest conditions, she fears not the crack of a Pistol, she dares say stand to a Grazier.  Pris. 
Probatum fuit, profecto, Domine.  Witty. 
Good, than you Sir Bacchus, Apollo shall be dispatched with her share, and some contents to meet us tomorrow (at a certain place and time appointed) in the masculine Gender, my Father has a Nephew, and I an own x coming up from the University, whom he loves most indulgently, easy Master Credulous Oldcraft, (for you know what your mere Academic is) your Carrier never misses his hour, he must not be robbed (because he has but little to lose) but he must join with us in a device that I have, that shall rob my Father of a hundred pieces, and thank me to be rid on't, for there's the ambition of my wit to live upon his professed wit, that has turned me out to live by my wits.  Pris. 
Cum hirundinis alis tibi regratulor.  Witty. 
A male habit, a bag of a hundred weight, though it be counters (for my Alchemy shall turn 'em into Gold of my Fathers) the hour, the place, the action shall be at large set down, and Father, you shall know, that I put my portion to use, that have given me to live by;  
And to confirm yourself in me renate,  
I hope you'll find my wits legitimate. Exeunt.    

Actus Secundus.  

Scaena Prima.  Enter Lady Gentry, and Servants. Serv. 
NAy Lady.  Lady. 
Put me not in mind on't prithee,  
You cannot do a greater wrong to women,  
For in our wants, 'tis the most chief affliction  
To have that name remembered; 'tis a title  
That misery works us by, and the world's malice,  
Scorn and contempt has not where with to work  
On humble Callings; they are safe, and lie  
Level with pity still, and pale distress  
Is no great stranger to 'em; but when fortune  
Looks with a stormy face on our conditions,  
We find affliction work, and envy pastime,  
And our worst enemy then that most abuses us,  
Is that we are called by, Lady, O my spirit,  
Will nothing make thee humble? I am well methinks,  
And can live quiet with my fate sometimes,  
Until I look into the world again,  
Then I begin to rave at my stars bitterness,  
To see how many muck hills placed above me;  
Peasants and Droils, Caroches full of Dunghills,  
Whose very birth stinks in a generous nostril,  
Glistering by night like Glowworms through the High-streets,  
Hurried by Torchlight in the footman's hands  
That show like running Fire-drakes through the City,  
And I put to my shifts and wits to live,  
Nay sometimes danger too; on Foot, on Horseback,  
And earn my supper manfully ere I get it,  
Many a meal I have purchased at that rate,  Enter Priscian. 
Fed with a wound upon me, stamped at midnight.  
Hah, what are you?  Pris. 
Now you may tell yourself Lady. Pulls off's beard  Lady. 
Oh Mr. Priscian, what's the project,  
For you ne'er come without one.  Pris. 
First, your Husband,  
Sir Ruinous Gentry greets you with best wishes,  
And here has sent you your full share by me  
In five Cheats, and two Robberies.  Lady. 
And what comes it too?  Pris. 
Near upon thirteen pound.  Lady. 
A goodly share.  
'Twill put a, Lady scarce in Philip and Cheyney,  
With three small Bugle Laces, like a Chambermaid,  
Here's precious living.  Pris. 
'las you must consider, Lady,  
'Tis but young Term, Attorneys ha' small doings yet,  
Then Highway Lawyers, they must needs ha little,  
we've had no great good luck to speak troth Beauty,  
Since your stout Ladyship parted from 's at Highgate,  
But there's a fair hope now for a present hundred,  
Here's man's Apparel, your Horse stands at door.  Lady. 
And what's the virtuous plot now?  Pris. 
Marry Lady,  
You like a brave young Gallant must be robbed.  Lady. 
I robbed?  Pris. 
Nay then—  Lady. 
Well, well, go on, let's hear Sir.  Pris. 
Here's a sealed bag of a hundred, which indeed  
Are Counters all, only some sixteen Groats  
Of white money i'the mouth on't.  Lady. 
So, what Saddle have I?  Pris. 
monsieur Laroon's the Frenchman's.  Lady. 
That again,  
You know so well it is not for my stride,  
How oft have I complained on't?  Pris. 
You nay have Jockeys then, the little Scotch one,  
You must dispatch. Exit Pris.  Lady. 
I'll soon by ready Sir,  
Before you ha' shifted Saddles, many women  
Have their wealth flow to 'em, I was made I see  
To help my fortune, not my fortune me. Exit.  Enter Cuningame. Cun. 
My ways are Goblin-led, and the night Else  
Still draw me from my home, yet I follow,  
Sure 'tis not altogether fabulous,  
Such Hags do get dominion of our tongues  
So soon as we speak, the Enchantment binds;  
I have dissembled such a trouble on me,  
As my best wits can hardly clear again;  
Piping through this old Reed, the guardianess,  
With purpose that my harmony shall reach  
And please the Lady's ear, she stops below,  
And echoes back my love unto my lips,  
Persuaded by most violent arguments  
Of self-love in herself; I am so self-fool,  
To do at upon her hundred-wrinkled face;  
I could beggar her to accept the gifts  
She would throw upon me; 'twere charity,  
But for pities sake I will be a niggard  
And undo, her, refusing to take from her;  
I'm haunted again, if it take not now  
I'll break the Spell.  Enter Gardianesse. Gard. 
Sweet Cuningame, welcome;  
What? a whole day absent? Birds that build Nests  
Have care to keep 'em.  Cun. 
That's granted,  
But not continually to sit upon 'em;  
Less in the youngling season, else they desire  
To fly abroad, and recreate their labours,  
Than they return with fresher appetite  
To work again.  Gard. 
Well, well, you have built a nest  
That will stand all storms, you need not mistrust  
A weather-wrack, and one day it may be  
The youngling season too, than I hope  
You'll ne'er fly out of sight.  Cun. 
There will be pains,  
I see to shake this Burr off, and sweetest,  
Prithee how fares thy charge? has my good friend  
Sir Gregory the countenance of a Lover?  Gard. 
No by my troth, not in my mind, methinks  
(Setting his Worship aside) he looks like a fool.  Cun. 
Nay i'faith, ne'er divide his Worship from him for that  
Small matter; Fool and Worship are no such  
Strangers now adays, but my meaning is,  
Has he thy lady's countenance of love?  
Looks she like a welcome on him? plainly,  
Have they as good hope of one another,  
As Cupid bless us, we have?  Gard. 
Troth I know not,  
I can perceive no forwardness in my charge,  
But I protest I wish the Knight better  
For your sake, Bird.  Cun. 
Why thanks sweet Bird, and with my heart I wish,  
That he had as strong and likely hope of her  
As thou haste of me.  Gard. 
Well, he's like to speed  
ne'er the worse for that good wish, and I'll tell you  
Bird (for secrets are not to be kept betwixt us two)  
My charge thinks well of you.  Cun. 
Of me? for what?  Gard. 
For my sake, I mean so, I have heard her  
A hundred times since her. Uncle gave her  
The first bob about you, that she'd do somewhat  
For my sake if things went well together,  
We have spoke of doors and bolts, and things and things,  
Go too, I'll tell you all, but you'll find  
Some advancement for my sake I do believe.  Cur. 
Faith be not sparing, tell me.  Gard. 
By my Lady  
You shall pardon me for that, 'twere a shame  
If men should hear all that women speaks behind  
Their backs sometimes.  Cun. 
You must give me leave yet,  
At least to give her thanks.  Gard. 
Not that neither,  
She must not take a notice of my blabbing,  
It is sufficient you shall give me thanks,  
For 'tis for my sake if she be bountiful,  
She loves me, and loves you too for my sake.  Cun. 
How shall I knowing this but be ingrate,  
Not to repay her with my dearest duty.  Gard. 
ay, but you must not know it, if you tell  
All that I open to you, you'll shame us both;  
afar off you may kiss your hand, blush, or so,  
But I'll allow no nearer conference.  Cun. 
Whoop! you'll be jealous I perceive now.  Gad. 
Jealous? why there's no true love without it, Bird,  
I must be jealous of thee, but for her,  
(Were it within my duty to my Master)  
I durst trust her with the strongest tempter,  
And I dare swear her now as pure a Virgin  
As e'er was welcomed to a marriage bed,  
If thoughts may be untainted, hers are so.  Cun. 
And where's the cause of your fear then?  Gard. 
Well, well;  
When things are past, and the wedding Torches  
Lighted at matches, to kindle better fire,  
Then I'll tell you more.  Cun. 
Come, come, I see further,  
That if we were married you'd be jealous.  Gard. 
I protest I should a little, but not of her,  
It is the married woman (if you mark it)  
And not the maid that longs, the appetite  
Follows the first taste, when we have relished  
We wish cloying, the taste once pleased before,  
Than our desire is whetted on to more,  
But I reveal too much to you, i'faith Bird.  Cun. 
Not a whit 'faith, Bird, betwixt you and I,  
I am beholding for bettering of my knowledge.  Gard. 
Nay you shall know more of me if you'll be ruled,  
But make not things common.  Cun. 
Ud' so, your Lady?  Gard. 
ay, 'tis no matter, she'll like well of this,  
Our familiarity is her content.  Enter Niece and Clown. Nee. 
This present from Sir Gregory?  Clow. 
From my Master, the Worshipful right Sir Gregory Fop  Nee. 
A Ruff? and what might be his high conceit  
In sending of a Ruff?  Clow. 
I think he had two conceits in it forsooth, too high too  
Low, Ruff high, because as the Ruff does embrace your  
neck all day, so does he desire to throw his Knightly arms.  Niece. 
But then I leave him off a nights.  Clow. 
Why then he is ruff low, a ruffian, a bold adventurous errant to do any rough service for his Lady.  Nee. 
A witty and unhappy conceit, does he mean  
As he seems to say unto that reverence? Toward  
He does woo her sure. Cuning.  Clow. 
To tell you truth Lady, his conceit was far better than I have blazed it yet.  Nee. 
Do you think so, Sir?  Clow. 
Nay I know it forsooth, for it was two days ere he compassed it, to find a fitting present for your Ladyship, was sending once a very fine Puppy to you.  Nee. 
And that he would have brought himself.  Clow. 
So he would indeed, but then he altered his device, and sent this Ruff, requesting withal, that whensoever it is foul, you (with your own hands) would bestow the starching of it.  Nee. 
Else she woos him, now his eyes shoots this way; And what was the reason for that Sir?  Toward Cun. Clow. 
There lies his main conceit, Lady, for says he, In so doing she cannot choose but in the starching to clap it often between her hands, and so she gives a great liking and applause to my present, whereas if I should send a Puppy; she ever calls it to her with Irist, hiss, hiss, which js a fearful disgrace, he drew the devil from a Play, at the Bull t'other day.  Nee. 
I marry Sir, this was a rich conceit indeed.  Clow. 
And far fetched, therefore good for you Lady-  Gard. 
How now? which way look you, Bird?  Can. 
At the Fool Bird shall I hot look at the Fool?  Gard. 
At the Fool and I here? what need that? pray look this way.  Nee. 
I'll fit him aptly, either I'll awake  
His wits (if he have any) or force him  
To appear (as yet I cannot think him)  
Without any, Sirrah, tell me one thing true  
That I shall ask you now, Was this device  
Your Masters own? I doubt his wit in it;  
He's not so ingenious.  Clow. 
His own I assure you, Madam.  Nee. 
Nay, you must not lie.  Clow. 
Not with a Lady, I'd rather lie with you then lie with my Master, by your leave in such a case as this.  Gard. 
Yet again your eye?  Cun. 
The Fool makes mirth i'faith,  
I would hear some.  Gard. 
Come, you shall hear none but me.  Nee. 
Come hither friend, nay come near me; did  
Thy Master send thee to me? he may be wise,  
But did not she it much in that; men sometimes  
May wrong themselves unawares, when they least think on 't;  
Was Vulcan ever so unwise, to send Mars  
To be his spokesman when he went a-wooing?  
Send thee? heigh-ho, a pretty rolling eye.  Clow. 
I can turn up the white and the black too, and need be, forsooth.  Nee. 
Why, here's an amorous nose.  Clow. 
You see the worst of my nose, forsooth.  Nee. 
A cheek, how I could put it now in dalliance,  
A pair of lips, oh that we were honeyed,  
I could suck Sugar from 'em, what a beard's here?  
When will the Knight thy Master have such a  
Stamp of manhood on his face? nay, do not blush.  Clow. 
'Tis nothing but my flesh and blood that rises so.  Cun. 
Death, she courts the Fool.  Gard. 
Away, away, 'tis sport, do not mind it.  Nee. 
Give me thy hand, come be familiar;  
ay, here's a promising palm; what a soft  
Handful of pleasure's here, here's Down compared  
With Flocks and quilted Straw, thy Knights fingers  
Are lean mattress rubbers to these Feathers,  
I prithee let me lean my cheek upon't,  
What a soft pillow's here?  Clow. 
Hum, umh, hu, hum.  Niece. 
Why there's a courage in that lively passion,  
Measure thee all o'er, there's not a limb  
But has his full proportion; it is my voice,  
There's no compare betwixt the Knight and thee,  
The goodlier man by half, at once now  
I see thee all over.  Clow. 
If you had seen me swim t'other day on my back, you would have said you had seen, there was two Chambermaids that saw me, and my legs by chance were tangled in the flags, and when they saw how I was hanged, they cried out, O help the man for fear he be drowned.  Niece. 
They could do no less in pity, come, thine arm, we'll walk together.  Cun. 
Blindness of Love and Women, why she dotes upon the Fool.  Gard. 
What's that to you, mind her not.  Cun. 
Away you burr.  Gard. 
How's that?  Cun. 
Hang of Fleshook, fasten thine itchy clasp  
On some dry Toadstool that will kindle with thee,  
And burn together.  Gard. 
Oh abominable,  
Why do you not love me?  Cun. 
No, never did?  
I took thee down a little way to  
Enforce a Vomit from my offended stomach,  
Now thou'rt up again I loathe thee filthily.  Gard. 
Oh Villain.  Cun. 
Why dost thou not see a sight  
Would make a man abjure the sight of women.  Nee. 
Ha, ha, ha, he's vexed; ha, ha, ha,  
Ha, ha, ha.  Gard. 
Why dost thou laugh?  
Because thou laugh'st, nothing else i'faith.  Cun. 
She has but mocked my folly, else she finds not  
The bosom of my purpose, some other way  
Must make me know; I'll try her, and may chance quit  
The fine dexterity of her Lady-wit. Exit.  Nee. 
Yes introth, I laughed to think of thy Master,  
Now, what he would think if he knew this?  Clow. 
By my troth I laugh at him too, faith Sirrah, he's but a fool to say the truth, though I say't that should not say't.  Nee. 
Yes, thou shouldst say truth, and I believe thee;  
Well, for this time we'll part, you perceive something,  
Our tongues betray our hearts, there's our weakness,  
But pray be silent.  Clow. 
As Mouse in Cheese, or Goose in Hay i'faith.  Niece. 
Look, we are cut off, there's my hand where my lips would be.  Clow. 
I'll wink and think 'em thy lips, farewell. Exit.  Nee. 
Now Gardionesse, I need not ask where you have been.  Gard. 
O Lady, never was woman so abused  Clow. 
Dost thou hear Lady sweetheart, I had forgot to tell thee, if you will I will come back in the Evening?  Nee. 
By no means, come not till I send for you.  Clow. 
If there be any need, you may think of things when I am gone, I may be conveyed into your chamber, I'll lie under the bed while midnight, or so, or you shall put me up in one of your little boxes, I can creep in at a small hole.  Nee. 
These are things I dare not venture, I charge you on my love never come till I send for you.  Clow. 
Verbum insapienti, 'tis enough to the wise, nor I think it is not fit the Knight should know any thing yet.  Nee. 
By no means, pray you go now, we are suspected.  Clow. 
For the things that are past, let us use our secrets.  Nee. 
Now I'll make a firm trial of your love,  
As you love me, not a word more at this time,  
Not a syllable, 'tis the seal of love, take heed.  Clow. 
Hum, hum, hum, hum—  
Hum's loathe to depart. Exit Clown.  Nee. 
So, this pleasant trouble's gone, now guardianess,  
What? your eyes easing your heart, the cause woman?  Gard. 
The cause is false man, Madam, oh Lady,  
I have been gubbed in a shining Carbuncle,  
A very glow-worm, that I thought had sire in't,  
And 'tis as cold as Ice.  Niece. 
And justly served,  
Wouldst thou once think that such an erring Spring  
Would dote upon thine Autumn?  Gard. 
Oh, had you heard him  
But protest.  Nee. 
I would not have believed him,  
Thou might'st have perceived how I mocked thy folly,  
In wanton imitation with the Fool,  
Go weep the sin of thy credulity,  
Not of thy loss, for it was never thine,  
And it is gain to miss it; wert thou so dull?  
Nay yet thou'rt stupid and uncapable,  
Why thou wert but the bait to fish with, not  
The prey, the stale to catch another Bird with.  Gard. 
Indeed he called me Bird.  Nee. 
Yet thou perceivest not,  
It is your Niece he loves, wouldst thou be made  
A stakling Jade? 'tis she, examine it,  
I'll hurry all awry, and tread my path  
Over unbeaten grounds, go level to the mark,  
Not by circular bouts, rare things are pleasing,  
And rare's but seldom in the simple sense,  
But has her Emphasis with eminence Exit.  Gard. 
My Niece? she the rival of my abuse?  
My flesh and blood wrong me? I'll Aunt her for't;  Enter Mirabell. 
Oh opportunity, thou blessest me  
Now Gentlewoman, are you parted so soon?  
Where's your friend I pray? your Cuningame?  Mir. 
What say you Aunt?  Gard. 
Come, come, your Cuningame?  
I am not blind with age yet, nor deaf.  Mir. 
Dumb I am sure you are not, what ailed you aunt?  
Are you not well?  Gard. 
No, nor sick, nor mad, nor in my wits, nor sleeping, nor walking, nor nothing, nor any thing; I know not what I am, nor what I am not.  Mir. 
Mercy cover us, what do you mean Aunt?  Gard. 
I mean to be revenged.  Mir. 
On whom?  Gard. 
On thee, Baggage.  Mir. 
Revenge should follow injury,  
Which never reached so far as thought in me  
Towards you Aunt.  Gard. 
Your cunning, minion,  
Nor your Cuningame can either blind me,  
The gentle Beggar loves you.  Mir. 
Beseech you,  
Let me stay your error, I begin to hear,  
And shake off my amazement; if you think  
That ever any passage treating love  
Hath been betwixt us yet commenced, any  
Silent eye-glance that might but sparkle fire,  
So much as brother and sister might meet with,  
The lip-salute, so much as strangers might  
Take a farewell with, the commixed hands,  
Nay, but the least thought of the least of these;  
In troth you wrong your bosom, by that truth  
(Which I think yet you durst be bail for in me,  
If it were offered ye) I am as free  
As all this protestation.  Gard. 
May I believe this?  Mir. 
If ever you'll believe truth: why, I thought he had spoken love to you, and if his heart prompted his tongue, sure I did hear so much.  Gard. 
Oh falsest man, Ixion's plague fell on me,  
Never by woman (such a masculine cloud)  
So airy and so subtle was embraced.  Mir. 
By no cause in me, by my life dear Aunt.  Gard. 
I believe you, then help in my revenge,  
And you shall do't, or lose my love for ever,  
I'll have him quitted at his equal weapon,  
Thou art young, follow him, bait his desires  
With all the Engines of a woman's wit,  
Stretch modesty even to the highest pitch;  
He cannot freeze at such a flaming beauty;  
And when thou hast him by the amorous gills,  
Think on my vengeance, choke up his desires,  
Then let his banquettings be Tantalism,  
Let thy disdain spurn the dissembler out;  
Oh I should climb my stars, and sit above,  
To see him burn to ashes in his love.  Mir. 
This will be a strange taste, Aunt, and an  
Unwilling labour, yet in your injunction  
I am a servant to't.  Gard. 
Thou'lt undertake't?  Mir. 
Yes, let the success commend itself hereafter.  Gard. 
Effect it Girl, my substance is thy store,  
Nothing but want of will makes woman poor. Exeunt.  Enter Sir Gregory, and Clown. Sir Greg. 
Why Pompey, thou art not stark mad, art thou?  
Wilt thou not tell me how my Lady does?  Clow. 
Your Lady?  Sir Greg. 
Did she receive the thing that I sent her kindly, or no?  Clow. 
The thing that you sent her, Knight, by the thing that you sent, was for the things sake that was sent to carry the thing that you sent, very kindly received, first, there is your Indenture, now go seek you a servant: secondly, you are a Knight: thirdly and lastly, I am mine own man: and fourthly, fare you well.  Sir Greg. 
Why Pompey? prithee let me speak with thee,  
I'll lay my life some Hair has crossed him.  Clow. 
Knight, if you be a Knight, so keep you; as for the Lady, who shall say that she is not a fair Lady, a sweet Lady, an honest and a virtuous Lady, I will say he is a base fellow, a blab of his tongue, and I will make him eat these fingers ends.  Sir Greg. 
Why here's nobody says so Pompey.  Clow. 
Whatsoever things have passed between the Lady and the other party, whom I will not name at this time, I say she is virtuous, and honest, and I will maintain it, as long as I can maintain myself with bread and water.  Sir Greg. 
Why I know nobody thinks otherwise.  Clow. 
Any man that does but think it in my hearing, I will make him think on't while he has a thought in his Bosom; shall we say that kindnesses from Ladies are common? or that favours and protestations are things of no moment betwixt parties and parties? I say still, whatsoever has been betwixt the Lady and the party which I will not name, that she is honest, and shall be honest, whatsoever she does by day or by night, by light or by darkness, with cut and long tale.  Sir Greg. 
Why I say she is honest.  Clow. 
Is she honest? in what sense do you say she is honest, Knight?  Sir Greg. 
If I could not find in my heart to throw my Dagger at thy head, hilts and all, I'm an ass, and no Gentleman.  Clow. 
Throw your Dagger at me! do not Knight, I give you fair warning, 'tis but cast away if you do, for you shall have no other words of me, the Lady is an honest Lady, whatsoever reports may go of sports and toys, and thoughts, and words, and deeds, betwixt her and the party which I will not name; this I give you to understand, That another man may have as good an eye, as amorous a nose, as fair a stampt beard, and be as proper a man as a Knight, (I name no parties) a Servingman may be as good as a Sir, a Pompey as a Gregory, a Doodle as a Fop; so Servingman Pompey Doodle may be respected as well with Ladies (though I name no parties) as Sir Gregory Fop; so farewell. Exit.  Sir Greg. 
If the fellow be not out of his wits, then will I never have any more wit while I live; either the sight of the Lady has gastered him, or else he's drunk, or else he walks in his sleep, or else he's a fool, or a knave, or both, one of the three I'm sure 'tis; yet now I think on't, she has not used me so kindly as her Uncle promised me she should, but that's all one, he says I shall have her, and I dare take his word for the best Horse I have, and that's a weightier thing than a Lady, I'm sure on't. Exit.  Enter Lady Ruinous (as a man) Witty Pate, Sir Ruinous, Priscian, and Master Credulous, (binding and robing her, and in Scarves) Credulous finds the bag. Lady Ruin. 
Nay, I am your own, 'tis in your pleasure  
How you'll deal with me; yet I would entreat,  
You will not make that which is bad enough,  
Worse than it need be, by a second ill,  
When it can render you no second profit;  
If it be coin you seek, you have your prey,  
All my store, I vow, (and it weighs a hundred)  
My life, or any hurt you give my body,  
Can enrich you no more.  Witty. 
You may pursue.  L. Ruin. 
As I am a Gentlewoman, I never will,  
Only we'll bind you to quiet behaviour  
Till you call out for Bail, and on th'other  
Side of the hedge leave you; but keep the peace  
Till we be out of hearing, for by that  
We shall be out of danger, if we come back,  
We come with a mischief.  Lady. 
You need not fear me.  Pris. 
Come, we'll bestow you then. Exit Ruin. Pris. and Lady.  Wit. 
Why la you Sir, is not this a swifter Revenue then Sic probas ergo's & igitur's can bring in? why is not this one of your Syllogisms in Barbara? Omne utile est honestum.  Cred. 
Well Sir, a little more of this acquaintance,  
Will make me know you fully I protest.  Wit. 
You have (at first sight) made me conscious  
Of such a deed my dreams ne'er prompted, yet  
I could almost have wished rather ye'd robbed me  
Of my Cloak, (for my Purse 'tis a scholar's)  
Then to have made me a robber.  Cred. 
I had rather have answered three difficult questions,  
Than this one, as easy as yet it seems.  Witty. 
Tush, you shall never come to further answer for't;  
Can you confess your penurious Uncle,  
In his full face of love, to be so strict  
A Niggard to your Commons, that you are fain  
To size your belly out with shoulder fees?  
With Rumps and Kidneys, and cues of single Beer,  
And yet make dainty to feed more daintily,  
At this easier rate? fie Master Credulous,  
I blush for you.  Cred. 
This is a truth undeniable.  Wit. 
Why go to then, I hope I know your Uncle,  
How does he use his Son, nearer than you?  Cred. 
Faith like his Jade, upon the bare Commons,  
Turned out to pick his living as he can get it;  
He would have been glad to have shared in such  
A purchase, and thanked his good fortune too;  Enter Ruinous, and Priscian. 
But mum no more— is all safe, Bullies?  
Secure? the Gentleman thinks him most happy in his loss,  
With his safe life and limbs▪ and redoubles  
His first vow, as he is a Gentleman,  
Never to pursue us.  Wit. 
Well away then,  
Disperse you with Master Credulous, who still  
Shall bear the purchase, Priscian and I  
Will take some other course: You know our meeting  
At the Three Cups in Saint Gyles, with this proviso,  
(For 'tis a Law with us) that nothing be opened  
Till all be present, the looser says a hundred,  
And it can weigh no less.  Ruin. 
Come, Sir, we'll be your guide.  Cred. 
My honesty, which till now was never forfeited,  
All shall be close till our meeting. Exit Cred. and Ruin.  Wit. 
Tush, I believe't,  
And then all shall out; where's the thief that's robbed?  Enter Lady Ruinous. L. Ruin. 
Here Master Oldcraft, all follows now.  Wit. 
'Twas neatly done, wench, now to turn that bag Of counterfeits to current pieces, & actum est.  L. Ruin. 
You are the Chemist, we'll blow the fire still,  
If you can mingle the ingredients.  Wit. 
I will not miss a cause, a quantity, a dram,  
You know the place.  〈◊〉. 
I have told her that, Sir.  Wit. 
Good, turn Ruinous to be a Constable, I'm sure  
We want not beards of all sorts, from the  
Worshipful Magistrate to the under Watchman;  
because we must have no danger of life,  
But a cleanly cheat, attach Credulous,  
The cause is plain, the theft found about him;  
av fall I in his own cousin's shape  
acp mere accident, where finding him distressed,  
I with some difficulty must fetch him off,  
With promise that his Uncle shall shut up all  
With double restitution: Master Constable, Ruinous  
His mouth shall be stopped; you, Mistress rob thief,  
Shall have your share of what we can pull my father of;  
Is't plain enough?  L. Ruin. 
As plain a cozenage as can be, saith.  Wit. 
Father, I come again, and again when this is  
Past too, Father, one will beget another;  
I'd be loath to leave your posterity barren,  
You were best to come to composition Father,  
Two hundred pieces yearly allow me yet,  
It will be cheaper (Father) than my wit,  
For I will cheat none but you, dear Father.  Exeunt.   

Actus Tertius.  

Scaena Prima.  Enter Old Knight and Sir Gregory. O. K. 
WHy now you take the course Sir Gregory Fop:  
I could enforce her and I list, but love  
That's gently won, is a man's own for ever,  
Have you prepared good music?  Sir Greg. 
As fine a noise, Uncle, as heart can wish▪  O. K. 
Why that's done like a Suitor,  
They must be wooed a hundred several ways,  
Before you obtain the right way in a woman,  
'Tis an odd creature, full of creeks and windings.  
The Serpent has not more; for sh'as all his,  
And then her own beside came in by her mother.  Sir Greg. 
A fearful portion for a man to venture on.  O. K. 
But the way found once by the wits of men,  
There is no creature lies so tame again.  Sir Greg. 
I promise you, not a house-Rabbit, Sir.  O. K. 
No sucker on 'em all.  Sir Greg. 
What a thing's that?  
They're pretty Fools I warrant, when they're tame  
As a man can lay his lips to.  O. K. 
How were you bred, Sir?  
Did you never make a fool of a tenant's daughter?  Sir Greg. 
Never i'faith, they ha' made some fools for me,  
And brought 'em many a time under their aprons.  O. K. 
They could not show you the way plainlier, I think,  
To make a fool again.  Sir Greg. 
There's fools enough, Sir,  
Less they were wiser.  O. K. 
This is wondrous rare,  
Come you to London with a Maidenhead, Knight?  
A Gentleman of your rank ride with a Cloak-bag?  
Never an Hostess by the way to leave it with?  
Nor Tapsters sister? nor head Ostlers wife?  
What nobody?  Sir Greg. 
Well mocked old Wit Monger,  
I keep it for your Niece.  O. K. 
Do not say so for shame, she'll laugh at thee,  
A wife ne'er looks for't, 'tis a bachelor's penny,  
He may give't to a beggar-wench, i'th' progress time,  
And never called to account for't. Exit.  Sir Greg. 
Would I'd known so much,  
I could ha' stopped a beggar's mouth byth' way,  Enter Page. 
That railed upon me 'cause I'd give her nothing—  
What, are they come?  Pag. 
And placed directly, Sir,  
Under her window.  Sir Greg. 
What may I call you Gentleman?  Boy. 
A poor servant to the Viol, I'm the Voice, Sir.  Sir Greg. 
In good time Master Voice.  Boy. 
Indeed good time does get the mastery.  Sir Greg. 
What Countryman Master Voice?  Boy. 
Sir, borne at Ely, we all set up in Ely,  
But our house commonly breaks in Rutlandshire.  Sir Greg. 
A shrewd place by my faith, it may well break your voice,  
It breaks many a man's back; come, set to your business.  

Song.  
Feign would I wake you, Sweet, but fear  
I should invite you to worse cheer;  
In your dreams you cannot fare  
Meaner than Music; no compare;  
None of your slumbers are compiled  
Under the pleasure makes a child;  
Your day-delights, so well compact,  
That what you think, turns all to act:  
I'd wish my life no better play,  
Your dream by night, your thought by day.  
Wake gently, wake,  
Part softly from your dreams;  
The morning flies  
To your fair eyes,  
To take her special beams.   Sir Greg. 
I hear her up, here Master Voice,  
Pay you the Instruments, save what you can,  Enter Niece above. 
To keep you when you're cracked. Exit Boy.  Niece. 
Who should this be?  
That I'm so much beholding to, for sweetness?  
Pray Heaven it happens right.  Sir Greg. 
Good morrow Mistress.  Niece. 
An ill day and a thousand come upon thee.  Sir Greg. 
'Light that's six hundred more than any Almanac has.  Niece. 
Comes it from thee? it is the mangiest Music  
That ever woman heard.  Sir Greg. 
Nay say not so Lady,  
There's not an itch about 'em.  Niece. 
I could curse  
My attentive powers, for giving entrance to't;  
There is no boldness like the impudence  
That's locked in a fool's blood, how durst you do this?  
In conscience I abused you as sufficiently  
As woman could a man; insatiate Coxcomb,  
The mocks, and spiteful language I have given thee,  
Would o' my life ha' served ten reasonable men,  
And rise contented too, and left enough for their friends.  
You glutton at abuses, never satisfied?  
I am persuaded thou devourest more flouts  
Then all thy body's worth, and still a hungered!  
A mischief of that maw; prithee seek elsewhere,  
Introth I am weary of abusing thee;  
Get thee a fresh Mistress, thou 't make work enough;  
I do not think there's scorn enough in Town  
To serve thy turn, take the Court Ladies in,  
And all their women to 'em, that exceed 'em.  Sir Greg. 
Is this in earnest, Lady?  Niece. 
Oh unsatiable!  
Dost thou count all this but an earnest yet?  
I'd thought I'd paid thee all the whole sum, trust me;  
thou'lt beggar my derision utterly  
If thou stayest longer, I shall want a laugh:  
If I knew where to borrow a contempt  
Would hold thee tack, stay and be hanged thou shouldst then,  
But thou'st no conscience now to extort hate from me,  
When one has spent all she can make upon thee;  
Must I begin to pay thee hire again?  
After I have rid thee twice? faith 'tis unreasonable.  Sir Greg. 
Say you so? I'll know that presently.  Exit. Niece. 
Now he runs  
To fetch my Uncle to this musty bargain,  
But I have better ware always at hand.  
And lay by this still when he comes to cheapen.  Enter Cuningame. Cun. 
I met the Music now, yet cannot learn  
What entertainment he received from her.  Nee. 
There's somebody set already, I must to't, I see,  
Well, well, Sir Gregory.  Cun. 
Hah, Sir Gregory?  Niece. 
where'er you come you may well boast your conquest.  Cun. 
She's lost i'faith, enough, has fortune then  
Remembered her great boy? she seldom fails 'em.  Niece. 
He was the unlikeliest man at first, methought,  
To have my love, we never met but wrangled,  Cun. 
A pox upon that wrangling, say I still,  
I never knew it fail yet, where ere't came;  
It never comes but like a storm of hail,  
'Tis sure to bring fine weather at the tail on't,  
There's not one match 'mongst twenty made without it,  
It fights i'th' tongue, but sure to agree i'th' haunches.  Niece. 
That man that should ha' told me, when time was,  
I should ha' had him, had been laughed at piteously,  
But see how things will change?  Cun, 
Here's a heart feels it— O the deceitful promises of love!  
What trust should a man put i'th' lip of woman?  
She kissed me with that strength, as if she'd meant  
To ha' set the fair print of her soul upon me.  Niece. 
I would ha' sworn 'twould ne'er ha' been a match once.  Cun. 
I'll hear no more, I'm mad to hear so much,  
Why should I aim my thoughts at better fortunes  
Than younger brothers have? that's a Maid with nothing,  
Or some old Soap-boilers Widow, without teeth,  
There waits my fortune for me, seek no farther.  Exit Cun. Enter Old Knight, and Sir Gregory. O. K. 
You tell me things, Sir Gregory, that cannot be,  
She will not, nor she dares not.  Sir Greg. 
Would I were whipped then.  Niece. 
I'll make as little show of love, Sir Gregory,  
As ever woman did, you shall not know  
You have my heart a good while.  O. K. 
Heard you that?  Niece. 
Man will insult so soon, 'tis his condition,  
'Tis good to keep him off as long as we can,  
I've much ado, I swear; and love i'th' end  
Will have his course, let Maids do what they can,  
They are but frail things, till they end in man.  O. K. 
What say you to this, Sir?  Sir Greg. 
This is somewhat handsome.  Niece. 
And by that little wrangling that I feigned,  
Now I shall try how constant his love is,  
Although't went sore against my heart to chide him.  Sir Greg. 
Alas poor Gentlewoman.  O. K. 
Now you're sure of truth,  
You hear her own thoughts speak.  Sir Greg. 
They speak indeed.  O. K. 
Go, you're a brainless cox, a Toy, a Fop,  
I'll go no farther than your name, Sir Gregory,  
I'll right myself there; were you from this place,  
You should perceive I'm heartily angry with you,  
Offer to sow strife twixt my Niece and I?  
Good morrow Niece, good morrow.  Niece. 
Many fair ones to you, Sir.  O. K. 
Go, you're a Coxcomb. How dost Niece this morning?  
An Idle shallow fool: Sleepest thou well, Girl?  
Fortune may very well provide thee Lordships,  
For honesty has left thee little manners.  Sir Greg. 
How am I banged o' both sides?  O.K. 
Abuse kindness? will't take the air today Niece?  Niece. 
When you please, Sir,  
There stands the Heir behind you I must take,  
(Which I'd as live take, as take him I swear.)  O. K. 
La 'you; do you hear't continued to your teeth now?  
A pox of all such Gregory's; what a hand Niece lets fall her Scarf.  
Have I with you?  Sir Greg. 
No more i'fack, I ha' done, Sir:  
Lady, your scarf's fall'n down.  Niece. 
'Tis but your luck, Sir,  
And does presage the Mistress must fall shortly,  
You may wear it, and you please.  O. K. 
There's a trick for you,  
You're parlously beloved, you should complain.  Sir Greg. 
Yes, when I complain, Sir,  
Then do your worst, there I'll deceive you Sir.  O. K. 
You are a Dolt, and so I leave you, Sir. Exit.  Sir Greg. 
Ah sirrah, Mistress, were you caught i'faith?  
We overheard you all; I must not know  
I have your heart, take heed a that, I pray,  
I knew some Scarf would come.  Niece. 
He's quite gone, sure:  
Ah you base Coxcomb, couldst thou come again?  
And so abused as thou wast?  Sir Greg. 
How?  Niece. 
'Twould ha' killed  
A sensible man, he would ha' gone to his Chamber,  
And broke his heart by this time.  Sir Greg. 
Thank you heartily.  Niece. 
Or fixed a naked rapier in a wall,  
Like him that earned his Knighthood e'er he had it,  
And then refused upon't, ran up toth' hilts.  Sir Greg. 
Yes, let him run for me, I was never brought up to't,  
I never professed running i' my life.  Niece. 
What art thou made on? thou tough villainous vermin,  
Will nothing destroy thee?  Sir Greg. 
Yes, yes, assure yourself  
Unkind words may do much.  Niece. 
Why, dost thou want 'em?  
I've e'en consumed my spleen to help thee to 'em,  
Tell me what sort of words they be would speed thee?  
I'll see what I can do yet.  Sir Greg. 
I'm much beholding to you,  
you're willing to bestow huge pains upon me.  Niece. 
I should account nothing too much to rid thee.  Sir Greg. 
I wonder you'd not offer to destroy me,  
All the while your Uncle was here?  Niece. 
Why there thou betrayest thy house, we of the Old-Crafts  
Were borne to more wit than so.  Sir Greg. 
I wear your favour here.  Niece. 
Would it might rot thy arm off: if thou knewst  
With what contempt thou hast it, what hearts bitterness,  
How many cunning curses came along with it,  
thou'dst quake to handle it.  Sir Greg. 
A pox, take't again then;  
who'd be thus plagued of all hands?  Nee. 
No, wear't still,  
But long I hope thou shalt not, 'tis but cast  
Upon thee, purposely to serve another  
That has more right to't, as in some Countries they convey  
Their treasure upon Asses to their friends,  
If mine be but so wise and apprehensive  
As my opinion gives him to my heart,  
It stays not long on thy desertless arm;  
I'll make thee ere I ha' done not dare to wear  
Any thing of mine, although I give't thee freely;  
Kiss it you may, and make what show you can,  
But sure you carry't to a worthier man,  
And so good morrow to you.  Sir Greg. 
Hu hum, ha hum;  
I han't the spirit now to dash my brains out,  
Nor the audacity to kill myself,  
But I could cry my heart out, that's as good,  
For so't be out no matter which way it comes,  
If I can die with a fillip, or depart  
At hot cockles, what's that to any man?  
If there be so much death that serves my turn there.  
Every one knows the state of his own body,  
No Carrion kills a Kite, but then again  
There's Cheese will choke a Daw; time I were dead i'faith,  
If I knew which way without hurt or danger.  
I am a Maiden-Knight, and cannot look  
Upon a naked weapon with any modesty,  
Else 'twould go hard with me, and to complain  
To Sir Perfidious the old Knight again,  
Were to be more abused; perhaps he would beat me well,  
But ne'er believe me;  Enter Cuningame. 
And few men die a beating, that were lost too:  
Oh, here's my friend, I'll make my moan to him.  Cun. 
I cannot tear her memory from my heart,  
That treads mine down, was ever man so fooled  
That professed wit?  Sir Greg. 
O Cuningame?  Cun. 
Sir Gregory?  
The choice, the Victor, the Towns happy man?  Sir Greg. 
Sniggs, what dost mean? come I to thee for comfort, and dost abuse me too?  Cun. 
Abuse you? how Sir?  
With justifying your fortune, and your joys?  Sir Greg. 
Pray hold your hand, Sir i've been bold enough,  
You come with a new way now; strike me merrily,  
But when a man's sore beaten a both sides already,  
Than the least tap in jest goes to the guts on him;  
Wilt ha' the truth? i'm made the rankest ass  
That e'er was borne to Lordships.  Cun. 
What? no Sir;  Sir Greg. 
I had not thought my body could ha' yielded  
All those foul scurvy names that she has called me,  
I wonder whence she fetched 'em?  Cun. 
Is this credible?  Sir Greg. 
She pined this scarf upon me afore her Uncle,  
But his back turned, she cursed me so for wearing on't,  
The very brawn of mine arm has ached ever since,  
Yet in a manner forced me to wear't still,  
But hoped I should not long; if good luck serve  
I should meet one that has more wit and worth  
Should take it from me, 'twas but lent to me,  
And sent to him for a token.  Cun. 
I conceit it, I know the man  
That lies in wait for't, part with't by all means,  
In any case, you are waylaid about it.  Sir Greg. 
How Sir? waylaid?  Cun. 
Pox of a Scarf say I,  
I prize my friend's life 'bove a million on 'em,  
You shall be ruled, Sir, I know more than you.  Sir Greg. 
If you know more than I, let me be rid on't,  
Lass 'tis not for my wearing, so she told me.  Cun. 
No, no, give me't, the knave shall miss his purpose,  
And you shall live.  Sir Greg. 
I would, as long as I could, Sir.  Cun. 
No more replies, you shall, I'll prevent this,  
Pompey shall march without it.  Sir Greg. 
What, is't he?  
My man that was?  Cun. 
Call him your deadly Enemy;  
You give him too fair a name, you deal too nobly,  
He bears a bloody mind, a cruel foe, Sir,  
I care not if he heard me.  Sir Greg. 
But do you hear, Sir?  
Can't sound with reason she should affect him?  Cun. 
Do you talk of reason? I never thought to have heard  
Such a word come from you; reason in love?  
Would you give that, no Doctor could e'er give?  
Has not a Deputy married his Cookmaid?  
An Alderman's Widow one that was her turn broach?  
Nay, has not a great Lady brought her Stable  
Into her Chamber: lay with her Horsekeeper?  Sir Greg. 
Did ever love play such Jades tricks, Sir?  Cun. 
Oh thousands, thousands: Beware a sturdy Clown ere while you live, Sir;  
'Tis like a housewifery in most Shires about us;  
You shall ha' farmers' widows wed thin Gentlemen,  
Much like yourself, but put'em to no stress;  
What work can they do, with small trapstick legs?  
They keep Clowns to stop gaps, and drive in pegs,  
A drudgery fit for Hinds, e'en back again, Sir,  
You're safest at returning.  Sir Greg. 
Think you so, Sir?  Cun. 
But how came this Clown to be called Pompey first?  Sir Greg. 
Push, one good man Caesar, a Pump-maker kirsened him;  
Pompey he writes himself, but his right name's Pumpey,  
And stunk too when I had him, now he's crank.  Cun. 
I'm glad I know so much to quell his pride, Sir,  
Walk you still that way, I'll make use of this,  
To resolve all my doubts, and place this favour  
On some new Mistress, only for a try,  
And if it meet my thoughts, I'll swear 'tis I. Exit.  Sir Greg. 
Is Pompey grown so malapert? so frampold?  
The only cutter about ladies' honours?  Enter Old Knight. 
And his blade soonest out?  O. K. 
Now, what's the news, Sir?  Sir Gre. 
I dare not say but good; oh excellent good, Sir.  O. K. 
I hope now you're resolved she loves you, Knight?  Sir Gr. 
Cuds me, what else Sir? that's not to do now.  O.K. 
You would not think how desperately you angered me,  
When you belied her goodness; oh you vexed me,  
Even to a Palsy.  Sir Greg. 
What a thing was that, Sir?  Enter Niece. Nee. 
'Tis, that 'tis; as I have hope of sweetness, the scarf's gone;  
Worthy wise friend, I  upon thy cunning,  
We two shall be well matched, our Issue male, sure  
Will be borne Counsellors; is't possible?  
Thou shalt have another token out of hand for't;  
Nay since the way's found, pity thou shouldst want, i'faith,  
O my best joy, and dearest.  O. K. 
Well said, Niece,  
So violent fore your Uncle? what will you do  
In secret then?  Sir Greg. 
Marry call me slave, and rascal.  Niece. 
Your Scarf— the Scarf I gave you—  O. K. 
Mass that's true Niece,  
I ne'er thought upon that; the Scarf she gave you- Sir?  
What dumb? no answer from you? the Scarf?  Sir Greg. 
I was waylaid about it, my life threatened;  
Life's life, scarf's but a Scarf, and so I parted from't.  Niece. 
Unfortunate woman! my first favour too?  O. K. 
Will you be still an ass? no reconcilement  
Twixt you and wit? are you so far fallen out,  
You'll never come together? I tell you true,  
I'm very lousily ashamed on you,  
That's the worst shame that can be;  
Thus baiting on him: now his heart's hooked in,  
I'll make him, ere I ha' done, take her with nothing,  
I love a man that lives by his wits a life;  
Nay leave, sweet Niece, 'tis but a Scarf, let it go.  Niece. 
The going of it never grieves me, Sir.  
It is the manner, the manner—  Sir Greg. 
O dissembling marmoset! if I durst speak,  
Or could be believed when I speak,  
What a tale could I tell, to make hair stand upright now?  Niece. 
Nay, Sir, at your request you shall perceive, Uncle,  
With what renewing love I forgive this?  
Here's a fair Diamond, Sir, I'll try how long  
You can keep that?  Sir Greg. 
Not very long, you know't too,  
Like a cunning witch as you are.  Niece. 
You're best let him ha' that too.  Sir Greg. 
So I were, I think, there were no living else,  
I thank you, as you have handled the matter.  O. K. 
Why this is musical now, and Tuesday next  
Shall tune your Instruments, that's the day set.  Niece. 
A match, good Uncle.  O. K. 
Sir, you hear me too?  Sir Greg. 
Oh very well, I'm for you.  Niece. 
whate'er you hear, you know my mind.  Exeunt Old Knight, and Niece. Sir Gre. 
I a— on't, too well, if I do not wonder how we two shall come together, I'm a bear whelp? he talks of Tuesday next, as familiarly as if we loved one another, but 'tis as unlikely to me, as 'twas seven year before I saw her; I shall try his cunning, it may be he has a way was never yet thought on, and it had need to be such a one, for all that I can think on will never do't; I look to have this Diamond taken from me very speedily, therefore I'll take it off a my finger, for if it be seen, I shall be waylaid for that too.  Exit.   

Actus Quartus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Old Knight and Witty-Pate. O.K. 
OH torture! torture! thou carriest a sting i'thy tail,  
Thou never brought'st good news i'thy life yet,  
And that's an ill quality, leave it when thou wilt.  Witty. 
Why you receive a blessing the wrong way, Sir,  
Call you not this good news? to save at once Sir  
Your credit and your kinsman's life together;  
Would it not vex your peace, and gall your worth?  
T' have one of your name hanged?  O. K. 
Peace, no such words, boy.  Wit. 
Be thankful for the blessing of prevention then.  O.K. 
Le' me see, there was none hanged out of our house since Brute,  
I ha' searched both Stowe, and Hollinshead.  Wit. 
O Sir.  O. K. 
I'll see what Polychronicon says anon too.  Wit. 
'Twas a miraculous fortune that I heard on't.  O. K. 
I would thou'dst never heard on't,  Wit. 
That's true too,  
So it had ne'er been done; to see the luck on't,  
He was e'en brought to Justice Aurum's threshold,  
There had flown forth a Mittimus straight for Newgate;  
And note the fortune too, Sessions a Thursday,  
Jury culled out a Friday, Judgement a Saturday,  
Dungeon a Sunday, Tyburn a Monday,  
Misery's quotidian ague, when't begins once,  
Every day pulls him, till he pull his last.  O. K. 
No more, I say, 'tis an ill theme: where left you him?  Wit. 
hehas i'th' Constable's hands below i'th' Hall, Sir,  
Poor Gentleman, and his accuser with him.  O. K. 
What's he?  Wit. 
A Judge's Son, 'tis thought so much the worse too,  
He'll hang his enemy, an't shall cost him nothing,  
That's a great privilege.  O. K. 
Within there?  Enter Servant. Serv. 
Sir?  O. K. 
Call up the folks i'th' Hall. I had such hope on him,  
For a Scholar too, a thing thou ne'er wast fit for,  
Therefore erected all my joys in him;  
Got a Welsh Benefice in reversion for him,  
Dean of Cardigan, has his grace already,  
He can marry and bury, yet ne'er a hair on's face;  Enter Credulous, Sir Ruinous (as a Constable,) and Lady Gentry (as a man.) 
Like a French Vicar, and does he bring such fruits to Town with him?  
A thief at his first lighting? Oh good den to you.  Wit. 
Nay, sweet Sir, you're so vexed now, you'll grieve him,  
And hurt yourself.  O. K. 
Away, I'll hear no counsel;  
Come you but once in seven year to your Uncle,  
And at that time must you be brought home too?  
And by a Constable?  Wit. 
Oh speak low, Sir,  
Remember your own credit, you profess  
You love a man o' wit, begin at home, Sir,  
Express it i' yourself.  Lady. 
Nay, Master Constable,  
Show yourself a wise man, 'gainst your nature too.  Ruin. 
Sir, no Dish-porridgement, we have brought home  
As good men as ye.  O. K. 
Out, a North-Britain Constable, that tongue  
Will publish all, it speaks so broad already;  
Are you the Gentlewoman?  Lady. 
The unfortunate one, Sir,  
That fell into the power of merciless thieves,  
Whereof this fellow, whom I'd call your kinsman,  
As little as I could, (for the fair reverence  
I owe to fame and years) was the prime villain.  O. K. 
A wicked prime.  Wit. 
Nay, not so loud, sweet father.  Lad. 
The rest are fled, but I shall meet with 'em,  
Hang one of 'em I will certain, I ha' sworn it,  
And 'twas my luck to light upon this first.  O.K. 
A Cambridge man for this? these your degrees, Sir?  
Nine years at University for this fellowship?  Wit. 
Take your voice lower, dear Sir.  O. K. 
What's your loss, Sir?  Lady. 
That which offends me to repeat, the Money's whole, Sir,  
'Tis i' the Constable's hands there, a sealed hundred,  
But I will not receive it.  O. K. 
No? not the money, Sir,  
Having confessed 'tis all?  Lady. 
'Tis all the Money, Sir,  
But 'tis not all I lost, for when they bound me,  
They took a Diamond hung at my shirt string,  
Which fear of life made me forget to hide;  
It being the sparkling witness of a Contract  
'Twixt a great lawyer's daughter and myself.  Wit. 
I told you what he was; what does the Diamond  
Concern my cousin, Sir?  Lady. 
No more did the Money,  
But he shall answer all now.  Wit. 
There's your conscience,  
It shows from whence you sprung.  Lady. 
Sprung? I had leapt a thief,  
Had I leapt some of your alliance.  Wit. 
Slave!  Lady. 
You prevent me still.  O. K. 
'Slid, son are you mad?  Lady. 
Come, come, I'll take a legal course.  O. K. 
Will you undo us all? what's your demand, Sir?  
Now we're in's danger too.  Lady. 
A hundred Mark, Sir,  
I will not bate a doit.  Witty. 
A hundred rascals.  Lady. 
Sir, find 'em out in your own blood, and take 'em.  Wit. 
Go take your course, follow the Law, and spare not.  O. K. 
Does fury make you drunk? know you what you say?  Wit. 
A hundred dogs dungs, do your worst.  O. K. 
You do I'm sure; whose's loud now?  Wit. 
What his own asking?  O. K. 
Not in such a case?  Wit. 
You shall have but three score pound; spite a your teeth,  
I'll see you hanged first.  O. K. 
And what's seven pound more man?  
That all this coil's about? stay, I say, he shall ha''t.  Wit. 
It is your own, you may do what you please with it;  
Pardon my zeal, I would ha' saved you money;  
Give him all his own asking?  O. K. 
What's that to you, Sir?  
Be sparing of your own, teach me to pinch  
In such a case as this? go, go, live by your wits, go.  Wit. 
I practise all I can.  O. K. 
Follow you me, Sir,  
And Master Constable come from the knave,  
And be a witness of a full recompense.  Wit. 
Pray stop the Constable's mouth, whate'er you do. Sir  O. K. 
Yet again? as if I meant not to do that myself,  
Without your counsel? As for you, precious kinsman,  
Your first year's fruits in Wales shall go to rack for this,  
You lie not in my house, I'll pack you out,  
And pay for your lodging rather. Exeunt Knight, Ruin. and Lady.  Witty. 
Oh fie cousin,  
These are ill courses, you a Scholar too,  Cred. 
I was drawn into't most unfortunately,  
By filthy deboyst company.  Wit. 
ay, ay, ay,  
'Tis even the spoil of all our youth in England;  
What were they Gentlemen?  Cred. 
Faith so like, some on 'em,  
They were e'en the worse again.  Wit. 
Hum.  Cred. 
Great Tobacco swivers,  
They would go near to rob with a pipe in their mouths.  Wit. 
What, no?  Cred. 
Faith leave it Cousin, because my rascals use it,  Wit. 
So they do meat and drink, must worthy Gentlemen  
Refrain their food for that? an honest man  
May eat of the same pig some Parson dines with,  
A Lawyer and a fool feed of one Woodcock,  
Yet one ne'er the simpler, tother ne'er the wiser;  
'Tis not meat, drink, or smoke, dish, cup, or pipe,  
Co-operates to the making of a knave,  
'Tis the condition makes a slave, a slave,  
There's London Philosophy for you; I tell you cozen,  
You cannot be too cautelous, nice, or dainty,  
In your society here, especially  
When you come raw from the University,  
Before the world has hardened you a little,  
For as a buttered loaf is a scholar's breakfast there,  
So a poached Scholar is a cheater's dinner here,  
I ha' known seven of 'em supped up at a Meal.  Cred. 
Why a poached Scholar?  Wit. 
'cause he pours himself forth,  
And all his secrets, at the first acquaintance,  
Never so crafty to be eaten i'th' shell,  
But is outstripped of all he has at first,  
And goes down glib, he's swallowed with sharp wit,  
Stead of Wine Vinegar.  Cred. 
I shall think, Cousin,  
A' your poached Scholar, while I live.  Enter Servant. Serv. 
Master Credulous,  
Your Uncle will you to forbear the House,  
You must with me, I'm charged to see you placed  
In some new lodging about Thieving Lane,  
What the conceit's, I know not, but commands you  
To be seen here no more, till you hear further.  Cred. 
Here's a strange welcome, Sir.  Wit. 
This is the World, Cousin;  
When a man's fame's once poisoned, fare thee well Lad.  Exit Cred. and Servant. 
This is the happiest cheat I e'er claimed share in,  
It has a two fold fortune, gets me coin,  
And puts him out of grace, that stood between me,  
My father's Cambridge Jewel, much suspected  
To be his Heir, now there's a bar in's hopes.  Enter Ruinous, and Lady Gentry. Ruin. 
It chinks, make haste.  Lady. 
The Goat at Smithfield Pens.  Enter Cunningame (with a Letter.) Wit. 
Zo, zo, sufficient. Master Cunningame?  
I never have ill luck when I meet a wit.  Cun. 
A wit's better to meet, than to follow then,  
For I ha' none so good I can commend yet,  
But commonly men unfortunate to themselves,  
Are luckiest to their friends, and so may I be.  Wit. 
I run o'er so much worth, going but in haste from you,  
All my deliberate friendship cannot equal.  Cun. 
'Tis but to show that you can place sometimes,  Enter Mirabell. 
Your modesty atop of all your virtues. Exit Wit.  
This Gentleman may pleasure me yet again;  
I am so haunted with this broad brimmed hat,  
Of the last progress block, with the young hatband,  
Made for a sucking Devil of two year old,  
I know not where to turn myself.  Mir, 
Sir?  Cun. 
More torture?  Mir. 
'Tis rumoured that you love me.  Cun. 
A my troth Gentlewoman,  
Rumour's as false a knave as ever pissed then,  
Pray tell him so from me; I cannot feign  
With a sweet Gentlewoman, I must deal down right.  Mir. 
I heard, though you dissembled with my Aunt, Sir,  
And that makes me more confident.  Cun. 
There's no falsehood,  
But pays us our own some way, I confess  
I feigned with her, 'twas for a weightier purpose,  
But not with thee, I swear.  Mir. 
Nor I with you then,  
Although my Aunt enjoined me to dissemble,  
To right her spleen, I love you faithfully.  Cun. 
Light, this is worse than 'twas.  Mir. 
I find such worth in you,  
I cannot, nay I dare not dally with you,  
For fear the flame consume me.  Cun. 
Here's fresh trouble,  
This drives me to my conscience, for 'tis foul  
To injure one that deals directly with me.  Mir. 
I crave but such a truth from your love, Sir,  
As mine brings you, and that's proportionable.  Cun. 
A good Geometrician, shrew my heart;  
Why are you out o' your wits, pretty plump Gentlewoman,  
You talk so desperately? 'tis a great happiness,  
Love has made one on's wiser than another,  
We should be both cast away else;  
Yet I love gratitude, I must requite you,  
I shall be sick else, but to give you me,  
A thing you must not take, if you mean to live,  
For o' my troth I hardly can myself;  
No wise Physician will prescribe me for you.  
Alas your state is weak, you had need of Cordials  
Some rich Electuary, made of a Son an Heir,  
An elder brother in a cullis, whole,  
'T must be some wealthy Gregory, boiled to a Jelly,  
That must restore you to the state of new Gowns,  
French Ruffs, and mutable head tires,  Mir. 
But where is he, Sir?  
One that's so rich will ne'er wed me with nothing.  Cun. 
Then see thy conscience and thy wit together,  
Wouldst thou have me then, that has nothing neither?  
What say you to Fop Gregory the first yonder?  
Will you acknowledge your time amply recompensed?  
Full satisfaction upon love's record?  
Without any more suit, if I combine you?  Mir. 
Yes, by this honest kiss.  Cun. 
You're a wise Client,  
To pay your fee before hand, but all do so,  
You know the worst already, that's thee best too.  Mir. 
I know he's a fool,  Cun. 
You're shrewdly hurt then;  
This is your comfort, your great wisest women  
Pick their first husband still out of that house,  
And some will have 'em to choose, if they bury 20.  Mir. 
I'm of their minds, that like him for a first husband,  
To run youths race with him, 'tis very pleasant,  
But when I'm old, I'd always wish a wiser.  
You may have me by that time; for this first business,  
Rest upon my performance.  Mir. 
With all thankfulness.  Cun. 
I have a project you must aid me in too.  Mir. 
You bind me to all lawful action, Sir,  
Pray wear this scarf about you;  
I conjecture now—  Cun. 
There's a Court principle for't, one office must help another;  
As for example, for your cast a Manchits out a'th' Pantry,  
I'll allow you a Goose out a'th' Kitchen.  Mir. 
'Tis very sociably done, Sir, farewell performance,  
I shall be bold to call you so.  Cun. 
Do, sweet confidence,  Enter Sir Gregory. 
If I can match my two broad brimmed hats;  
'Tis he, I know the Maggot by his head;  
Now shall I learn news of him, my precious chief.  Sir Greg. 
I have been seeking for you i'th' bowling Green,  
Enquired at nettleton's, and Anthony's Ordinary,  
t'has vexed me to the heart, look, I've a Diamond here,  
And it cannot find a Master.  Cun. 
No? That's hard i'faith.  Sir Greg. 
It does belong to somebody, a— on him,  
I would he had it, does but trouble me,  
And she that sent it, is so waspish too,  
There's no returning to her till't be gone.  Cun. 
Oh, ho, ah sirrah, are you come?  Sir Greg. 
What's that friend?  Cun. 
Do you note that corner sparkle?  Sir Greg. 
Which? which? which Sir?  Cun. 
At the West end a'the Collar.  Sir Greg. 
Oh I see't now.  Cun. 
'Tis an apparent mark; this is the stone, Sir,  
That so much blood is threatened to be shed for.  Sir Greg. 
I pray?  Cun. 
A ton at least.  Sir Greg. 
They must not find't I'm then, they must  
Go where 'tis to be had.  Cun. 
'Tis well it came to my hands first, Sir Gregory,  
I know where this must go.  Sir Greg. 
Am I discharged on't?  Cun. 
My life for yours now. Draws.  Sir Greg. 
What now?  Cun. 
'Tis discretion, Sir,  
I'll stand upon my Guard all the while I ha''t.  Sir Greg. 
Troth thou tak'st too much danger on thee still,  
To preserve me alive.  Cun. 
'Tis a friend's duty, Sir,  
Nay, by a toy that I have late thought upon,  
I'll undertake to get your Mistress for you.  Sir Greg. 
Thou wilt not? wilt?  Cun. 
Contract her by a trick, Sir,  
When she least thinks on't.  Sir Greg. 
There's the right way to't,  
For if she think on't once, she'll never do't.  Cun. 
She does abuse you still then?  Sir Greg. 
A— damnably,  
Every time worse than other; yet her Uncle  
Thinks the day holds a tuesday; say it did, Sir,  
She's so familiarly used to call me rascal,  
She'll quite forget to wed me by my own name,  
And then that marriage cannot hold in Law, you know.  Cun. 
Will you leave all to me?  Sir Greg. 
Who should I leave it to?  Cun. 
'Tis our luck to love Nieces; I love a Niece too.  Sir Greg. 
I would you did i'faith.  Cun. 
But mine's a kind wretch.  Sir Greg. 
I marry Sir, I would mine were so too.  Cun. 
No rascal comes in her mouth.  Sir Greg. 
Troth, and mine has little else in hers.  Cun. 
Mine sends me tokens,  
All the world knows not on.  Sir Greg. 
Mine gives me tokens too, very fine tokens,  
But I dare not wear 'em.  Cun. 
Mine's kind in secret.  Sir Greg. 
And there mine's a hellcat.  Cun. 
We have a day set too.  Sir Greg. 
'Slid, so have we man,  
But there's no sign of ever coming together.  Cun. 
Tell thee who 'tis, the old woman's Niece.  Sir Greg. 
Is't she?  Cun. 
I would your luck had been no worse for mildness;  
But mum, no more words on't to your Lady.  Sir Greg. 
Foh!  Cun. 
No blabbing as you love me.  Sir Greg. 
None of our blood  
Were ever babblers.  Cun. 
Prithee convey this Letter to her,  
But at any hand let not your Mistress see't.  Sir Greg. 
Yet again Sir?  Cun. 
There's a Jewel in't,  
The very art would make her dote upon't.  Sir Greg. 
Say you so?  
And she shall see't for that trick only.  Cun. 
Remember but your Mistress, and all's well.  Sir Greg. 
Nay if I do not hang me. Exit.  Cun. 
I believe you;  
This is the only way to return a token,  
I know he will do't now, cause he's charged toth' contrary.  
He's the nearest kin to a woman, of a thing  
Made without substance, that a man can find again,  
Some petticoat begot him, I'll be whipped else,  
Engendering with an old pair of pawned hose,  
Lying in some hot chamber o'er the Kitchen,  
Very steam bred him,  
He never came where Rem in Re e'er grew;  
The generation of a hundred such  
Cannot make a man stand in a white sheet,  
For 'tis no act in Law, nor can a Constable  
Pick out a bawdy business for Bridewell in't;  Enter Clown (as a Gallant.) 
A lamentable case, he's got with a man's Urine, like a Mandrake.  
How now? hah? what prodigious bravery's this?  
A most preposterous Gallant, the Doublet sits  
As if it mocked the breeches.  Clow. 
Save you, Sir,  Cun. 
Has put his tongue in the fine suit of words too.  Clow. 
How does the party?  Cun. 
Takes me for a Scrivener. Which of the parties?  Clow. 
Hum, simplicity betide thee—  
I would fain hear of the party; I would be loath to go  
Further with her; honour is not a thing to be dallied withal,  
No more is reputation, no nor fame, I take it, I must not  
Have her wronged when I'm abroad, my party is not  
To be compelled with any party in an oblique way;  
'Tis very dangerous to deal with women;  
May prove a Lady too, but shall be nameless,  
I'll bite my tongue out, ere it prove a Traitor.  Cun. 
Upon my life I know her.  Clow. 
Not by me,  
Know what you can, talk a whole day with me,  
You're ne'er the wiser, she comes not from these lips.  Cun. 
The old knight's Niece.  Clow. 
'Slid he has got her, pox of his heart that told him,  
Can nothing be kept secret? let me entreat you  
To use her name as little as you can, though.  Cun. 
'Twill be small pleasure, Sir, to use her name.  Clow. 
I had intelligence in my solemn walks,  
'Twixt Paddington and Pancridge, of a Scarf,  
Sent for a token, and a Jewel followed,  
But I acknowledge not the receipt of any,  
howe'er 'tis carried, believe me Sir,  
Upon my reputation I received none.  Cun. 
What, neither Scarf nor Jewel?  Clow. 
'Twould be seen  
somewhere about me, you may well think that,  
I have an arm for a Scarf, as others have,  
And dare to hang a Jewel too, and that's more  
Than some men have, my betters a great deal,  
I must have restitution, where'er it lights.  Cun. 
And reason good.  Clow. 
For all these tokens, Sir,  
Pass i' my name.  Cun. 
It cannot otherwise be.  Clow. 
Sent to a worthy friend.  Cun. 
ay, that's to thee.  Clow. 
I'm wronged under that title.  Cun. 
I dare swear thou art,  
'Tis nothing but Sir Gregory's circumvention,  
His envious spite, when thou'rt at Paddington,  
He meets the gifts at Pancridge.  Clow. 
Ah false Knight?  
False both to honour, and the Law of Arms?  Cun. 
What wilt thou say if I be revenged for thee?  
Thou sit as witness?  Clow. 
I should laugh in state then.  Cun. 
I'll fob him, here's my hand.  Clow. 
I should be as glad as any man alive, to see him well fobbed, Sir; but now you talk of fobbing, I wonder the Lady sends not form according to promise? I ha' kept out a Town these two days, a purpose to be sent for; I am almost starved with walking.  Cun. 
Walking gets men a stomach.  Clow. 
'Tis most true, Sir, I may speak it by experience, for I ha' got a stomach six times, and lost it again, as often as a traveller from Chelsy shall lose the sight of Paul's, and get it again.  Cun. 
Go to her, man.  Clow. 
Not for a Million, infringe my oath? there's a toy called a vow, has passed between us, a poor trifle, Sir; Pray do me the part and office of a Gentleman, if you chance to meet a Footman by the way, in orange tawny ribbons, running before an empty Coach, with a Buzzard i'th' Poop on't, direct him and his horses toward the new River by Islington, there they shall have me looking upon the Pipes, and whistling. Exit Clow.  Cun. 
A very good note; this love makes us all Monkeys,  
But to my work: Scarf first? and now a Diamond? these  
Should be sure signs of her affection's truth;  
Yet I'll go forward with my surer proof. Exit.  Enter Niece, and Sir Gregory. Sir Greg. 
Is't possible?  
Nay here's his Letter too, there's a fine Jewel in't,  
Therefore I brought it to you.  Niece. 
You tedious Mongrill! Is't not enough  
To grace thee, to receive this from thy hand,  
A thing which makes me almost sick to do,  
But you must talk too?  Sir Greg. 
I ha' done  Niece. 
Fall back,  
Yet backer, backer yet, you unmannerly puppy,  
Do you not see I'm going about to read it?  Sir Greg. 
Nay these are golden days, now I stay by't,  
She was wont not to endure me in her sight at all,  
The world mends, I see that.  Niece. 
What an ambiguous Superscription's here?  
To the best of Nieces. Why that title may be mine,  
And more than her's:  
Sure I much wrong the neatness of his art;  
'Tis certain sent to me, and to requite  
My cunning in the carriage of my Tokens,  
Used the same Fop for his.  Sir Greg. 
She nodded now to me, 'twill come in time.  Niece. 
What's here? an entire Ruby, cut into a heart.  
And this the word, Istud Amoris opus?  Sir Greg. 
Yes, yes, I have heard him say that love is the best stone-cutter.  Niece. 
Why thou saucy issue of some travelling Sowgelder,  
What makes love? thy mouth? is it a thing  
That ever will concern thee? I do wonder  
How thou dar'st think on't? hast thou ever hope  
To come i' the same room where lovers are;  
And scape unbrained with one of their velvet slippers?  Sir Greg. 
Love tricks break out I see, and you talk of slippers once,  
'Tis not far off to bed time.  Niece. 
Is it possible thou canst laugh yet?  
I would ha' undertook to ha' killed a spider  
With less venom far, than I have spit at thee.  Sir Greg. 
You must conceive,  
A knights another manner a piece of flesh.  Niece. 
Back, Owls face.  Within O. K. 
Do, do.  Niece. 
'Tis my Uncle's voice, that:  
Why keep you so far off, Sir Gregory?  
Are you afraid, Sir, to come near your Mistress?  Sir Greg. 
Is the proud heart come down? I looked for this still.  Nee. 
He comes not this way yet: Away, you dog-whelp;  
Would you offer to come near me, though I said so?  
I'll make you understand my mind in time;  
Your running greedily like a hound to his breakfast,  
That chops in head and all to beguile his fellows;  
I'm to be eaten, Sir, with Grace and leisure,  
Behaviour and discourse, things that ne'er trouble you;  
After I have pelted you sufficiently,  
I trow you will learn more manners.  Sir Greg. 
I'm wondering still when we two shall come together?  
Tuesday's at hand, but I'm as far off, as I was at first,  
I swear.  Enter Gardianesse. Gard. 
Now Cuningame, I'll be revenged at large:  
Lady, what was but all this while suspicion,  
Is truth, full blown now, my Niece wears your Scarf.  Niece. 
Hah?  Gard. 
Do but follow me, I'll place you instantly  
Where you shall see her courted by Cuningame.  Niece. 
I go with greediness; we long for things  
That break our hearts sometimes, there's pleasure's misery,  Exeunt Niece and Gard. Sir Greg. 
Where are those gadflies going? to some Junket now;  
That some old humble-bee toll the young one forth  
To sweet meats after kind, let 'em look to't,  
The thing you wot on, be not missed or gone,  
I bring a Maidenhead, and I look for one. Exit.  Enter Cunningame (in discourse with a masked Gentlewoman in a broad hat and scarved,) Niece at another door. Cun. 
Yes, yes.  Niece. 
Too manifest now, the Scarf and all.  Cun. 
It cannot be, you're such a fearful soul.  Niece. 
I'll give her cause of fear ere I part from her.  Cun. 
Will you say so? Is't not your aunt's desire too?  Niece. 
What a dissembling groan's that? she'll forswear't now.  Cun. 
I see my project takes, yonder's the grace on't.  Niece. 
Who would put confidence in wit again,  
I'm plagued for my ambition, to desire  
A wise man for a husband, and I see  
Fate will not have us go beyond our stint,  
We are allowed but one dish, and that's Woodcock,  
It keeps up wit to make us friends and servants of,  
And thinks any thing's good enough to make us husbands  
Oh that whores hat o' thine, of the riding block,  
A shade for lecherous kisses.  Cun. 
Make you doubt on't?  
Is not my love of force?  Niece. 
Yes, me it forces  
To tear that sorcerous strumpet from th'embraces.  Cun. 
Lady?  Niece. 
Oh thou hast wronged the exquisitest love—  Cun. 
What mean you Lady?  Niece. 
Mine, you'll answer for't.  Cun. 
Alas, what seek you?  Niece. 
Sir, mine own with loss.  Cun. 
You shall.  Niece. 
I never made so hard a bargain.  Cun. 
Sweet Lady?  Niece. 
Unjust man, let my wrath reach her,  
As you owe virtue duty; your cause trips you,  
Now Minion, you shall feel what loves rage is,  
Before you taste the pleasure; smile you false, Sir?  Cun. 
How can I choose? to see what pains you take,  
Upon a thing will never thank you for't?  Niece. 
How?  Cun. 
See what things you women be, Lady,  
When clothes are taken for the best part of you?  
This was to show you, when you think I love you not,  
How you're deceived still, there the Moral lies,  
'Twas a trap set to catch you, and the only bait  
To take a Lady nibbling, is fine clothes;  
Now I dare boldly thank you for your love,  
I'm pretty well resolved in't by this fit,  
For a jealous ague always ushers it.  Niece. 
Now blessings still maintain this wit of thine,  
And I'm an excellent fortune coming in thee,  
Bring nothing else I charge thee.  Cun. 
Not a groat I warrant ye.  Niece. 
Thou shalt be worthily welcome, take my faith for't,  
Next opportunity shall make us.  Cun. 
The old Gentlewoman has fooled her revenge sweetly.  Niece. 
Lass 'tis her part, she knows her place so well yonder;  
Always when women jump upon three score,  
Love shoves 'em from the chamber to the door.  Cun. 
Thou art a precious she-wit. Exeunt.    

Actus Quintus.  

Scaena Prima.  Enter Cunningame (at one door) Winy Pate, Ruinous, L. Ruinous, and Priscian (at the other.) Cun. 
FRiend, met in the harvest of our designs,  
Not a thought but's busy.  Wit. 
I knew it man,  
that made me provide these needful Reapers,  
Hooks, Rakers, Gleaners; we'll sing it home  
With a melodious Hornpipe; this is the Bond,  
That as we further in your great affair,  
You'll suffer us to glean, pick up for crumbs,  
And if we snatch a handful from the sheaf,  
You will not look a churl on's.  Cun. 
Friend, we'll share  
The sheaves of gold, only the Love acre  
Shall be peculiar.  Wit. 
Much good do you, Sir,  
Away, you know your way, and your stay; get you  
The Music ready, while we prepare the dancers.  Ruin. 
We are a consort of ourselves.  Pris. 
And can strike up lustily.  Wit. 
You must bring Sir Fop.  Cun. 
That's perfect enough.  Ruin. 
Bring all the Fops you can, the more the better fare,  
So the proverb runs backwards. Exeunt Ruin. & Pris.  L. Ruin. 
I'll bring the Ladies. Exit.  Wit. 
Do so first, and then the Fops will follow;  
I must to my father, he must make one. Exit.  Enter two Servants with a Banquet. Cun. 
While I dispatch a business with the Knight,  
And I go with you. Well said, I thank you,  
This small Banquet will furnish our few Guests  
With taste and state enough; one reach my Gown,  
The action craves it rather than the weather.  1 Serv. 
There's one stays to speak with you Sir.  Cun. 
What is he?  1 Serv. 
Faith I know not what, Sir, a fool I think,  
That some broker's shop has made half a Gentleman;  
Has the name of a Worthy too..  Cun. 
Pompey? is't not?  1 Serv. 
That's he, Sir.  Cun. 
Alas poor fellow, prithee enter him, he will need too,  Enter second Servant with a Gown. 
He shall serve for a Witness. Oh Gramercy:  
If my friend Sir Gregory comes, you know him,  Enter Clown. 
Entertain him kindly. Oh Master Pompey, how is't man?  Clow. 
'Snailes, I'm almost starved with love, and cold, and one thing or other;  
Has not my Lady sent for me yet?  Cun. 
Not that I hear, sure some unfriendly Messenger Is employed betwixt you,  Clow. 
I was ne'er so cold in my life, in my conscience I have been seven mile in length, along the new River; I have seen a hundred stickle bags; I do not think but there's gudgeons too; 'twill ne'er be a true water.  Cun. 
Why think you so?  Clow. 
I warrant you, I told a thousand miller's thumbs in it,  
I'll make a little bold with your Sweetmeats.  
And welcome Pompey.  Clow. 
'Tis is a strange thing, I have no taste in any thing.  Cun. 
Oh, that's Love, that distastes any thing but itself.  Clow. 
'Tis worse than Cheese in that point, may not a man break his word with a Lady? I could find in my heart and my hose too.  Cun. 
By no means Sir, that breaks all the Laws of Love.  Clow. 
Well, I'll ne'er pass my word without my deed to Lady, while I live again, I would fain recover my taste.  Cun. 
Well, I have news to tell you.  Clow. 
Good news, Sir?  Cun. 
Happy news, I help you away with a Rival your Master bestowed  Clow. 
Where for this plumbs sake—  Cun. 
Nay listen me.  Clow. 
I warrant you, Sir, I have two ears to one mouth,  
I hear more than I eat, I'd ne'er row by Queen Hive  
While lived else.  Cun. 
I have a wife for him, and that shall witness the Contract.  Clow. 
The old one I hope, 'tis not the Lady?  Cun. 
Choke him first, 'tis one which thou shalt see,  
See him, see him deceived, see the deceit, only  
The injunction is, you shall smile with modesty.  Clow. 
I'll simper i'faith, as cold as I am yet, the old one I hope.  Enter Servant. Serv. 
Sir, here's Sir Gregory.  Cun. 
Ud' so shelter, shelter, if you be seen  
All's ravelled out again; stand there private,  
And you'll find the very opportunity  
To call you forth, and place you at the Table.  Enter Sir Gregory. 
You are welcome Sir, this Banquet will serve,  
When it is crowned with such a dainty as you  
Expect, and must have.  Sir Greg. 
Tush, these sweetmeats are but sauce to that,  
Well, if there be any honesty or true word in a dream,  
She's mine own, nay, and changed extremely,  
Not the same woman.  Cun. 
Who? not the Lady?  Sir Greg, 
No, not to me, the edge of her tongue is taken off,  
Gives me very good words, turned upside down to me,  
And we live as quietly as two Tortoises, if she hold on  
As she began in my dream. Soft Music.  Cun. 
Nay, if Love send forth such Predictions,  
You are bound to believe 'em, there's the watchword  
Of her coming, to your practised part now,  
If you hit it, Aequus Cupido nobis.  Both go into the Gown Sir Greg. 
I will warrant you Sir, I will give arms to  
Your Gentry, look you forward to your business,  
I am an eye behind you, place her in that Chair,  
And let me alone to grope her out.  Enter Mirabell. Cun. 
Silence, Lady, your sweet presence illustrates  
This homely roof, and as course entertainment;  
But where affections are both Host and Guest,  
They cannot meet unkindly, please you fit,  
Your something long stay made me unmannerly,  
To place before you, you know this friend here,  
He's my Guest, and more especially,  
That this our meeting might not be too single,  
Without a witness to't.  Mirab. 
I came not unresolved, Sir,  
And when our hands are clasped in that firm faith  
Which I expect from you; fame shall be bold  
To speak the loudest on't: oh, you grasp me.  
Somewhat too hard friend.  Cun. 
That's Loves eager will,  
I'll touch it gentlier. Kiss her hand.  Mirab. 
That's too low in you,  
Less it be doubly recompensed in me. She kisses his hand.  Clow. 
Puh, I must stop my mouth, I shall be choked else.  Cun. 
Come, we'll not play and trifle with delays,  
We met to join these hands, and willingly  
I cannot leave it till confirmation.  Mirab. 
One word first, how does your friend, kind Sir Gregory?  Cun. 
Why do you mention him? you love him not?  Mir. 
I shall love you the less if you say so, Sir,  
In troth I love him, but 'tis you deceive him,  
This flattering hand of yours does rob him now,  
Now you steal his right from him, and I know  
I shall have hate for't, his hate extremely.  Cun. 
Why I thought you had not come so weakly armed,  
Upon my life the Knight will love you for't,  
Exceedingly love you, for ever love you.  Mir. 
ay, you'll persuade me so.  Cun. 
Why he's my friend,  
And wishes me a fortune equal with him,  
I know, and dare speak it for him.  Mir. 
Oh, this hand betrays him, you might remember him in some courtesy yet at least.  Cun. 
I thank your help in't, here's to his health  
where'er he be.  Mir. 
I'll pledge it were it against my health.  Clow. 
Oh. oh, my heart hops after twelve mile a day, upon a good return, now could I walk three hundred mile afoot, and laugh forwards and backwards.  Mir. 
You'll take the knight's health Sir,  Clow. 
Yes, yes forsooth, oh my sides! such a Banquet once a week, would make me grow fat in a fortnight.  Cun. 
Well, now to close our meeting, with the close  
Of mutual hands and hearts, thus I begin,  
Here in heaven's eye, and all love's sacred powers,  
(Which in my prayers stand propitious)  
I knit this holy hand fast, and with this hand  
The heart that owes this hand, ever binding  
By force of this initiating Contract  
Both heart and hand in love, faith, loyalty,  
Estate, or what to them belongs, in all the dues;  
Rights and honours of a faithful husband,  
And this firm vow henceforth till death to stand  
Irrevocable, sealed both with heart and hand.  Mir. 
Which thus I second, but oh, Sir Gregory.  Cun. 
Again? this interposition's ill, believe me.  Mir. 
Here in heaven's eye, and all Loves sacred powers  
I knit this holy hand fast, and with this hand  
The heart that owes this hand, ever binding  
Both heart and hand in love, honour, loyalty,  
Estate, or what to them belongs in all the dues,  
Rights, and duties of a true faithful wife;  
And this firm Vow henceforth till death to stand,  
Irrevocable sealed both with heart and hand.  Sir Greg. 
A full agreement on both parts.  Cun. 
ay, here's witness of that.  Sir Greg. 
Nay, I have overreached you Lady, and that's much,  
For any Knight in England to overreach a Lady.  Mir. 
I rejoice in my deceit, I am a Lady  
Now, I thank you Sir.  Clow. 
Good morrow Lady Fop.  Sir Greg. 
'Snailes, i'm gulled, made a worshipful ass, this is not my Lady.  Cun. 
But it is Sir, and true as your dream told you,  
That your Lady was become another woman.  Sir Greg. 
I'll have another Lady Sir, if there were no more Ladies in London, blindman buff is an unlawful Game.  Cun. 
Come, down on your knees first, and thank your stars.  Sir Greg. 
A fire of my stars, I may thank you I think.  Cun. 
So you may pray for me, and honour me,  
That have preserved you from a lasting torment,  
For a perpetual comfort; did you call me friend?  Sir Greg. 
I pray pardon me for that, l did miscall you, I confess.  Cun. 
And should I receiving such a thankful name  
Abuse it in the act? should I see my friend  
Baffled, disgraced, without any reverence  
To your title to be called slave, rascal?  
Nay cursed to your face, fooled, scorned, beaten down  
With a woman's peevish hate, yet I should stand  
And suffer you to be lost, cast away?  
I would have seen you buried quick first,  
Your spurs of Knighthood to have wanted rowels,  
And to be kicked from your heels; slave, rascal?  
Hear this tongue?  Mir. 
My dearest Love, sweet Knight, my Lord, my Husband.  Cun. 
So, this is not slave and rascal then.  Mir. 
What shall your eye command, but shall be done,  
In all the duties of a loyal wife?  Cun. 
Good, good, are not curses fitter for you? were't not better  
Your head were broke with the handle of a fan,  
Or your nose bored with a silver bodkin?  Mir. 
Why, I will be a servant in your Lady.  Cun. 
Pox, but you shall not, she's too good for you,  
This contract shall be a nullity, I'll break't off,  
And see you better bestowed.  Sir Greg. 
'Slid, but you shall not Sir, she's mine own, And I am hers, and we are one another's lawfully, and let me see him that will take her away by the Civil Law, if you be my friend keep you so, if you have done me a good turn, do not hit me i'th' teeth with't, that's not the part of a friend.  Cun. 
If you be content—  Sir Greg. 
Content? I was never in better contention in my life,  
I'll not change her for both the Exchanges, New or the Old;  
Come, kiss me boldly.  Clow. 
Give you joy, Sir.  Sir Greg. 
Oh Sir, I thank you as much as though I did, you are beloved of Ladies, you see we are glad of under women.  Clow. 
Ladies? let not Ladies be disgraced, you are as it were a married man, and have a Family, and for the party's sake that was unnamed before, being Pees-cod time, I am appeased, yet I would wish you make a ruler of your tongue.  Cun. 
Nay, no dissension here, I must bar that,  
And this (friend) I entreat you, and be advised,  
Let this private contract be yet concealed,  
And still support a seeming face of love  
Unto the Lady; mark how it avails you,  
And quits all her scorns, her Uncle is now hot  
In pursuit of the match, and will enforce her  
Bend her proud stomach, that she shall proffer  
herself to you, which when you have flouted,  
And laughed your fill at, you shall scorn her off  
With all your disgraces trebled upon her,  
For there the pride of all her heart will bow,  
When you shall foot her from you, not she you.  Sir Greg. 
Good i'faith; I'll continue it, I'd fain laugh at the old fellow too, for he has abused me as scurvily as his Niece, my knighthood's upon the spur, we'll go to Bed, and then to Church as fast as we can.  Exit Sir Greg. and Mirah. Clow. 
I do wonder I do not hear of the Lady yet.  Cun. 
The good minute may come sooner than you are aware of,  
I do not think but 'twill ere night yet as near as 'tis.  Clow. 
Well, I will go walk by the new River in that meditation, I am o'er shoes I'm sure upon the dry bank, this gullery of my Master will keep me company this two hours too, if love were not an enemy to laughter I should drive away the time well enough; you know my walk Sir, if she sends, I shall be found angling, for I will try what I can catch for luck's sake, I will fish fair for't.  
Oh Knight that thou shouldst be gulled so; ha, ha, it does me good at heart,  
But oh Lady, thou tak'st down my merry part. Exit  Enter Witty-pate. Witty. 
Friend.  Cun. 
Here friend.  Witty. 
All's afoot, and will go smooth away,  
The woman has conquered the women, they are gone,  
Which I have already complained to my Father,  
Suggesting that Sir Gregory is fall'n off  
From his charge, for neglects and ill usage,  
And that he is most violently bent  
On gentry's wife (whom I have called a widow)  
And that without most sudden prevention  
He will be married to her.  Cun. 
Foot, all this is wrong,  
This wings his pursuit, and will be before me; I am lost for ever.  Witty. 
No, stay, you shall not go  
But with my Father, on my wit let it lie,  
You shall appear a friendly assistant,  
To help in all affairs, and in execution  
Help yourself only.  Cun. 
Would my belief  
Were strong in this assurance.  Witty. 
You shall credit it,  
And my wit shall be your slave if it deceive you.  Enter Old Knight. 
My Father—  O. K. 
Oh Sir, you are well met, where's the Knight your friend?  Cun. 
Sir, I think your Son has told you.  Witty. 
Shall I stand to tell't again? I tell you he loves,  
But not my Kinswoman, her base usage,  
And your slack performance which he accuses most  
Indeed, has turned the knight's heart upside down.  O. K. 
I'll curb her for't, can he be but recovered,  
He shall have her, and she shall be dutiful,  
And love him as a wife too.  Witty. 
With that condition Sir,  
I dare recall him were he entered the Church,  
So much interest of love I assure in him.  O. K. 
Sir, it shall be no loss to you if you do.  Witty. 
ay, but these are words still, will not the deeds Be wanting at the recovery, if it should be again?  O. K. 
Why here fool, I am provided, five hundred in earnest,  
Of the thousands in her Dower, but were they married once,  
I'd cut him short enough, that's my agreement.  Witty. 
ay, now I perceive some purpose in you, Father.  O. K. 
But wherefore is she then stolen out of doors to him?  Witty. 
To him? oh fie upon your error, she has another object, believe it Sir.  O. K. 
I never could perceive it.  Witty. 
I did Sir, and to her shame I should speak it,  
To my own sorrow I saw it, dalliance,  
Nay dotage with a very Clown, a Fool.  O.K. 
Wit and wantoness? nothing else? nothing else?  
She love a Fool? she'll sooner mate a fool  
Of a wise man.  Cun. 
ay, my friend complains so,  
Sir Gregory says flatly she makes a fool of him,  
And these bold circumstances are approved;  
Favours have been sent by him, yet he ignorant  
Whither to carry 'em; they have been understood,  
And taken from him, certain Sir, there is  
An unsuspected fellow lies concealed,  
What, or where'er he is, these slight neglects  
Could not be of a Knight else.  O. K. 
Well Sir, you have promised (if we recover him Unmarried) to salve all these old bruises?  Cun. 
I'll do my best Sir.  O. K. 
I shall thank you, costly Sir, and kindly too.  Witty. 
Will you talk away the time here Sir, and come behind all your purposes?  O.K. 
Away good Sir.  Witty. 
Then stay a little good Sir, for my advice,  
Why Father are you broke? your wit beggared,  
Or are you at your wit's end? or out of  
Love with wit? no trick of Wit to surprise  
Those designs, but with open Hue and Cry,  
For all the world to talk on? this is strange,  
You were not wont to slubber a project so.  O. K. 
Can you help at a pinch now? show yourself  
My son, go too, I leave this to your wit,  
Because I'll make a proof on't.  Witty. 
'Tis thus then,  
I have had late intelligence, they are now  
buxom as Bacchus Froes, revelling, dancing,  
Telling the Music's numbers with their feet,  
Awaiting the meeting of premonished friends,  
That's questionless, little dreading you,  
Now Sir, with a dexterous trick indeed, sudden  
And sufficient were well, to enter on 'em  
As something like the abstract of a Masque;  
What though few persons? if best for our purpose  
That commends the project.  O. K. 
This takes up time.  Witty. 
Not at all, I can presently furnish  
With loose disguises that shall fit that Scene.  O. K. 
Why what wants then?  Witty. 
Nothing but charge of Music,  
That must be paid you know.  O. K. 
That shall be my charges, I'll pay the Music,  
whate'er it cost.  Witty. 
And that shall be all your charge,  
Now on, I like it, there will be wit in't Father.  Exit O. K. and Witty. Cun. 
I will neither distrust his wit nor friendship,  
Yet if his master brain should be o'erthrown  
My resolution now shall seize mine own. Exit  Enter Niece, Lady Ruinous, Gardianesse, Ruinous, Priscian (with instrument masqued. L. Ruin. 
Nay, let's have Music, let that sweet breath at least  
Give us her airy welcome, 'twill be the best  
I fear this ruined receptacle will yield,  
But that most freely.  Niece. 
My welcome follows me,  
Else I am ill come hither, you assure me  
Still Mr. Cuningame will be here, and that it was  
His kind entreaty that wished me meet him.  L. Ruin. 
Else let me be that shame unto my Sex,  
That all belief may fly 'em.  Niece. 
Continue still  
The knight's name unto my guardianess,  
She expects no other.  L. Ruin. 
He will, he will assure you  
Lady, Sir Gregory will be here, and suddenly  
This Music foreran him, is't not so consorts?  Ruin, 
Yes Lady, he stays on some device to bring along  
Such a labour he was busy in, some witty device.  Nee. 
'Twill be long ere he comes then, for wit's a great Labour to him.  Gard. 
Well, well, you'll agree better one day.  Nee. 
Scarce two I think.  Gard. 
Such a mock-beggar suit of clothes as led me  
Into the fool's pair of Dice, with deuce ace,  
He that would make me Mistress Cun, Cun, coney,  
He's quite out of my mind, but I shall ne'er  
Forget him while I have a hole in my head,  
Such a one I think would please you better,  
Though he did not abuse you.  Ruin, 
Fie, speak well of him now,  
Your Niece has quitted him.  Gard. 
I hope she has,  
Else she loses me for ever; but for Sir Gregory,  
Would he were come. I shall ill answer this  
Unto your Uncle else.  Nei. 
You know 'tis his pleasure  
I should keep him company.  Gard. 
ay, and should be your own  
If you did well too, Lord, I do wonder  
At the niceness of you Ladies nowadays,  
They must have Husbands with so much wit forsooth.  
Worship and wealth were both wont to be  
In better request I'm sure, I cannot tell,  
But they get ne'er the wiser children that I see.  L. Ruin. 
La, la, la, la, Sol, this Music breathes in vain,  
methinks 'tis dull to let it move alone,  
Let's have a female motion, 'tis in private,  
And we'll grace't ourselves however it deserves.  Nee. 
What say you guardianess?  Gard. 
'las i'm weary with the walk,  
My jaunting days are done.  L. Ruin. 
Come, come, we'll fetch her in by course, or else,  
She shall pay the Music.  Gard. 
Nay, I'll have a little for my money then.  The Dance, a Cornet is winded. L. Ruin. 
Hark? upon my life the Knight; 'tis your friend,  
This was the warning-piece of his approach.  Enter Old Knight, Witty-pate, Cuningame, masked, and take them to dance. L. Ruin. 
Ha? no words but mum? well then,  
We shall need no counsel-keeping  Nee. 
Cuningame?  Cun. 
Yes, fear nothing.  Nee. 
Fear? why do you tell me of it?  Cun. 
Your Uncles here.  Nee. 
ay me.  Cun. 
Peace.  O. K. 
We have caught 'em.  Witty. 
Thank my wit Father.  Gard. 
Which is the Knight think you?  Nee. 
I know not, he will be found when be speaks,  
No Mask can disguise his tongue.  Wity. 
Are you charged?  O. K. 
Are you awake?  Witty. 
I'm answered in a question.  Cun. 
Next change we meet, we lose our hands no more.  Nee. 
Are you prepared to tie 'em?  Cun. 
Yes,  
You must go with me.  Gard. 
Whether Sir? not from my charge believe me.  Cun. 
She goes along.  Nee. 
Will you venture and my Uncle here?  Cun. 
His stay's prepared for. Exeunt they two.  Gard. 
'Tis the Knight sure, I'll follow.  Exit Cun. Nee. Gardianesse. O. K. 
How now, the Music tired before us?  Ruin. 
Yes Sir, we must be paid now.  Witty. 
Oh, that's my charge Father.  O. K. 
But stay, where are our wanton Ladies gone?  
Son, where are they?  Witty. 
Only changed the room in a change, that's all sure.  O. K. 
I'll make 'em all sure else, and then return to you.  Ruin. 
You must pay for your Music first, Sir.  O. K. 
Must? are there musty Fiddlers? are Beggars choosers now?  
Ha? why Witty-pate, Son, where am I?  Witty. 
You were dancing e'en now, in good measure Sir,  
Is your health miscarried since? what ail you, Sir?  O. K. 
Death, I may be gulled to my face, where's my Niece?  
What are you?  L. Ruin. 
None of your Niece, Sir.  O. K. 
How now? have you loud Instruments too? I'll hear  
No more I thank you, what have I done trow  
To bring these fears about me? Son, where am I?  Witty. 
Not where you should be, Sir, you should be paying  
For your Music, and you are in a maze.  O. K. 
Oh, is't so, put up, put up, I pray you,  
Here's a crown for you.  L. Ruin. 
Pish, a crown?  Ru. Pris. 
Ha, ha, ha, a crown?  O. K. 
Which way do you laugh? I have seen a crown  
Has made a Consort laugh heartily.  Witty. 
Father,  
To tell you truth, these are no ordinary  
Musicians, they expect a bounty  
Above their punctual desert.  O. K. 
A— on your Punks, and their deserts too.  
Am I not cheated all this while think you?  
Is not your pate in this?  Witty. 
If you be cheated,  
You are not to be Indicted for your own goods,  
Here you trifle time to market your bounty  
And make it base, when it must needs be free  
For aught I can perceive.  O. K. 
Will you know the lowest price, Sir?  Witty. 
That I will Sir, with all my heart.  O. K. 
Unless I was discovered, and they now fled  
Home again for fear, I am absolutely beguiled,  
That's the best can be hoped for.  Witty. 
Faith 'tis somewhat too dear yet, Gentlemen.  Ruin. 
There's not a Denier to be bated, Sir.  O. K. 
Now Sir, how dear is it?  Witty. 
Bate but the t'other ten pound?  Pris. 
Not a Bawbee, Sir.  O. R. 
How? bate ten pound? what's the whole sum then?  Witty. 
Faith Sir, a hundred pound, with much ado,  
I got fifty bated, and faith Father, to say truth,  
'Tis reasonable for men of their fashion.  O. K. 
La, la, la, down, a hundred pound? la, la, la,  
You are a Consort of Thieves, are you not?  Witty. 
No musician's Sir, I told you before.  O. K. 
Fiddle-faddle, is it not a robbery? a plain robbery?  Witty. 
No, no, no, by no means Father, you have received  
For your money, nay, and that you cannot give back,  
'Tis somewhat dear I confess, but who can help it?  
If they had been agreed with before hand,  
'Twas ill forgotten.  O. K. 
And how many shares have you in this? I see my force,  
Case up your Instruments, I yield, here, as robbed and  
Taken from me, I deliver it.  Witty. 
No Sir, you have performed your promise now, which was, to pay the charge of Music, that's all.  O. K. 
I have heard no Music, I have received none, Sir, There's none to be found in me, nor about me.  Witty. 
Why Sir, here's witness against you, you have danced,  
And he that dances acknowledges a receipt  
Of Music.  O. K. 
I deny that Sir, look you, I can dance without Music, do you see Sir? and I can sing without it too; you are a consort of Thieves, do you hear what I do?  Witty. 
Pray you take heed Sir, if you do move the Music again, it may cost you as much more.  O.K. 
Hold, hold, I'll depart quietly, I need not bid you farewell, I think now, so long as that hundred pound lasts with you.  Enter Gardianesse. Gard. 
Ha, ha, am I snapped i'faith?  
Oh, Sir, Perfidious.  O. K. 
ay, ay, some howling another while, music's too damnable dear.  Gard. 
Oh Sir, my heartstrings are broke, if I can but live to tell you the tale I care not, your Niece my charge is—  O.K. 
What, is she sick?  Gard, 
No, no Sir, she's lustily well married.  O.K. 
To whom?  Gard. 
Oh, to that cunning dissembler, Cuningame.  O. K. 
I'll hang the Priest, first, what was he?  Gard. 
Your Kinsman Sir, that has the Welsh Benefice.  O. K. 
I saved him from the Gallows to that end, good, is there any more?  Garde 
And Sir Gregory is married too.  O. K. 
To my Niece too, I hope, and then I may hang her.  Gard. 
No Sir, to my Niece, thank Cupid; and that's all that's likely to recover me, she's Lady Fop now, and I am One of her Ants I thank my promotion.  Enter Credulous, Cuningame, Niece, Sir Gregory, and Mirabell. Cred. 
I hate performed your behest Sir.  O. K. 
What have you performed Sir?  Witty. 
Faith Sir, I must excuse my x in this act,  
If you can excuse yourself for making him  
A Priest, there's the most difficult answer  
I put this practice on him as from your desire,  
A truth, a truth Father.  Cred. 
I protest Sir, he tells you truth, he moved me to't in your name.  O. K. 
I protest Sir, he told you a lie in my name, and were you so easy Mr. Credulous to believe him?  Cred. 
If a man should not believe his x Sir, whom should he believe?  O. K. 
God-den to you good Mr. x Cuningame,  
And your fair Bride, my x Cuningame too,  
And how do you, Sir Gregory, with your fair Lady?  Sir Greg. 
A little better than you would have had me, I thank you Sir, the days of Puppy, and Slave, and Rascal are pretty well blown over now, I know Crabs from Verjuice, I have tried both, and thou'dst give me thy Niece for nothing I'd not have her.  Cun. 
I think so Sir Gregory, for my sake you would not.  Sir Greg. 
I would thou hadst scaped her too, and then she had died of the green sickness, know this, that I did marry in spite, and I will kiss my Lady in spite, and love her in spite, and beget children of her in spite, and when I die they shall have my Lands in spite; this was my resolution, and now 'tis out.  Niece. 
How spiteful are you now, Sir Gregory?  
Why look you, I can love my dearest Husband,  
With all the honours, duties, sweet embraces,  
That can be thrown upon a loving man.  Sir Greg. 
— This is afore your uncle's face, but behind his back in private you'll show him another tale.  Cun. 
You see Sir, now the irrecoverable state of all these things before you, come out of your muse, they have been but wit weapons, they were wont to love the play.  Enter Clown. O. K. 
Let me alone in my muse a little Sir, I will wake to you anon.  Cun. 
Ued so, your friend Pompey, how will you answer him?  Niece. 
Very well, if you'll but second it, and help me.  Clow. 
I do hear strange stories, are Ladies things obnoxious?  Niece. 
Oh, the dissembling falsest wretch is come.  Cun. 
How now Lady?  Niece. 
Let me come to him, and in stead of love  
Let me have revenge.  Witty. 
Pray you now, will you first examine, whither he be guilty or no.  Niece. 
He cannot be excused,  
How many Messengers (thou perjured man)  
Hast thou returned with Vows and Oaths? that thou  
Wouldst follow, and never till this unhappy hour  
Could I set eye of thee, since thy false die  
Drew my heart to it? oh I could tear thee now,  
In stead of soft embraces, pray give me leave—  Witty. 
Faith this was ill done of you Sir, if you promised otherwise.  Clow. 
By this hand, never any Messenger came at me since the first time I came into her company; that a man should be wronged thus?  Niece. 
Did not I send thee Scarves and Diamonds?  
And thou returned'st me letters, one with a false heart in't.  Witty. 
On fie to receive favours, return falsehoods, and hold a Lady in hand—  Clow. 
Will you believe me Sir? if ever I received Diamonds, or Scarf, or sent any Letter to her, would this Sword might ne'er go through me.  Witty. 
Some bad Messengers have gone between you then.  Niece. 
Take him from my fight, if I shall see tomorrow.  Witty. 
Pray you forbear the place, this discontent may impair her health much.  Clow. 
Foot, if a man had been in any fault 'twould ne'er have grieved him, Sir, if you'll believe.  Witty. 
Nay, nay, protest no more, I do believe you,  
But you see how the Lady is wronged by't;  
She has cast away herself it is to be feared,  
Against her uncle's will, nay, any consent,  
But out of a mere neglect, and spite to herself,  
Married suddenly without any advice.  Clow. 
Why who can help it? if she be cast away she may thank herself, she might have gone further and fared worse; I could do no more than I could do, 'twas her own pleasure to command me that I should not come till I was sent for, I had been with her every minute of an hour else.  Witty. 
Truly I believe you.  Clow. 
Night and day she might have commanded me, and that she knew well enough; I said as much to her between her and I, yet I protest she's as honest a Lady for my part, that I'd say if she would see me hanged, if she be cast away I cannot help it, she might have stayed to have spoke with a man.  Witty. 
Well, 'twas a hard miss on both parts.  Clow. 
So 'twas, I was within one of her, for all this cross luck, I was sure I was between the Knight and home.  Niece. 
Not gone yet? oh my heart! none regard my health?  Witty. 
Good Sir, forbear her sight a while, you hear how ill she brooks it.  Clow. 
Foolish woman, to overthrow her fortunes so; I shall think the worse of a Lady's wit while I live for't— I could almost cry for anger, if she should miscarry now, 'twould touch my conscience a little, and who knows what love and conceit may do? what would people say as I go along? there goes he that the Lady died for love on, lamb sure to hear on't i'th' streets. I shall weep before hand; foolish woman, I do grieve more for thee now then I did love thee before; well, go thy ways, wouldst thou spare thy husband's head and break thine own heart? if thou hadst any wit, I would some other had been the cause of thy undoing, I shall be twitted i'th' teeth with't, i'm sure of that, foolish Lady. Exit.  Niece. 
So, so, this trouble's well shaken off, Uncle, how d'ee? there's a Dowry due, sir.  Cun. 
We have agreed it, sweetest,  
And find your Uncle fully recovered, kind to both of us.  Witty. 
To all the rest I hope;  O. K. 
Never to thee, nor thee, easy x Credulous,  
Was your wit so raw?  Cred. 
Faith yours Sir, so long seasoned  
Has been faulty too, and very much to blame,  
Speaking it with reverence, Uncle.  Sir Greg. 
Yes faith, Sir, you have paid as dear for your time as any man here.  Witty. 
I Sir, and I'll reckon it to him. Imprimis, The first preface cheat of a pair of pieces to the Beggars, you remember that I was the example to your bounty there, I spoke Greek, and Syriac, Sir, you understand me now. Next, the Robbery put upon your indulgent x, which indeed was no Robbery, no Constable, no Justice, no Thief, but all Cheaters; there was a hundred Mark, mark you that. Lastly, this memorable 100. pounds worth of Music, this was but cheats and wit too, and for the assistance, this Gentleman to my x (for which I am to have a Fee) that was a little practice of my wit too, Father; will you come to composition yet, Father?  Cun. 
Yes faith Sir, do, two hundred a year will be easier than so much weekly, I do not think he's barren if he should be put to't again.  O. K. 
Why this was the day I looked for, thou shalt have't,  
And the next cheat makes it up three hundred;  
Live thou upon thy ten pound Vicarage,  
Thou get'st not a penny more, here's thy full  
Hire now.  Cred. 
I thank you Sir.  Witty. 
Why there was the sum of all my wit Father,  
To shove him out of your favour, which I feared  
Would have disinherited me.  O. K. 
Most certain it had,  
Had not thy wit recovered it; is there any here  
That had a hand with thee?  Witty. 
Yes, all these Sir.  O. K. 
Nephew, part a hundred pound amongst 'em,  
I'll repay it; wealth, love me as I love wit;  
When I die,  
I'll build an Almshouse for decayed wits.  Sir Greg. 
I'll entertain one in my life time; Scholar, you shall be my Chaplain, I have the gift of twenty Benefices, simple as I am here.  Pris. 
Thanks my great Patron.  Cun. 
Sir, your Gentry and your name shall both be raised as high as my fortunes can reach 'em, for your friend's sake.  Witty. 
Something will be in my present power, the future more,  
You shall share with me.  Ruin. and Wife. 
Thanks worthy Gentlemen.  Niece. 
Sir, I would beg one thing of you?  Sir Greg. 
You can beg nothing of me.  Witty. 
Oh Sir, if she begs, there's your power over her.  Sir Greg. 
She has begged me for a fool already, but 'tis no matter,  
I have begged her for a Lady that she might have been,  
That's one for another.  Witty. 
Nay, but if she beg—  Sir Greg. 
Let her beg again then.  Nee. 
That your man Pompey's Coat may come over his ears back again, I would not he should be lost for my sake.  Sir Greg. 
Well, 'tis granted, for mine own sake.  Mirab. 
I'll entreat it Sir.  Sir Greg. 
Why then 'tis granted for your sake.  O. K. 
Come, come, down with all weapons now, 'tis  
Music time,  
So it be purchased at an easy rate;  
Some have received the knocks, some given the hits,  
And all concludes in love, there's happy wits. Exeunt     

The Epilogue at the reviving of this Play.  
WE need not tell you Gallants, that this night  
The Wits have jumped, or that the Scenes hit right,  
'Twould be but labour lost for to excuse  
What Fletcher had to do in, his brisk Muse  
Was so Mercurial, that if he but writ  
An Act, or two, the whole Play rise up wit.  
we'll not appeal unto those Gentlemen  
Judge by their Clothes, if they sit right, nor when  
The Ladies smile, and with their Fans delight  
To whisk a climb aside, than all goes right:  
'Twas well received before, and we dare say,  
You now are welcome to no vulgar Play.  
Here endeth Wit at several Weapons.