THE country girl. A comedy, As it hath been often Acted with much applause.  
Never Printed before.  
By T. B.  
London, Printed for A. R. 1647.   

Prologue.  

BEfore I speak, me thinks, I hear some say,  
What can there be, to furnish out a Play,  
In such a homespun Title?— In a plain  
Poor country girl? Such, yields no lofty strain;  
No sinewy stuff, extracted from a mine▪  
Of deep, and Abstruse reading; no strong line,  
No such a strain, and this poor Title, suit  
Like old Pan's Bagpipe, and Apollo's Lute.  
What must we look for then? A desperate wit?  
Scenes, full of veins, where, without a Hit  
No man escapes, comes near it? This indeed  
Were to some purpose; and the way to speed.  
But this too's from this Title.— None of these?  
Alas poor girl, where's then, thy hope to please?  
What can she sing? and, like the Northern lass▪  
( That brave blithe girl) hope to procure a pass?  
Or, can she fight?— If so so stout, so bold  
A brave Virago, like the girl, worth Gold.  
Or is she one; that once a country maid,  
Cracked in the carriage, is come to Trade,  
And set up some new Leaguer? Or suppose  
Our girl, a virtuous Copy, and so close  
This inquisition of her,— she is— what?  
Her own presentment, best can tell you that,  
Which be but pleased to grace, with love and favour,  
You make the poor girl rich, and crown our labour.    

The Country girl.  
Enter Sir Oliver Bellingham, and M. William. M. William. 
Believe me Sir, I have told you what your worship may most certainly trust to.  Sir Oliver. 
May I not speak with her?  M. William. 

You know my place.  
There's no more hope from the deep pit of grief  
To raise in her any conceit of love,  
Then there's to raise her husband up again  
From the cold bed he sleeps in: from the Grave.  
Take this for all: My Lady Sir, has vowed  
To live▪ and die a widow.— So I leave you.—   Exit Shut. Sir Oli. 

Is't possible, that such a one as she;  
So young, so beautiful; so full of blood;  
Such lusty blood, as she's? for such a loss,  
Should lose that youth; that Beauty, that quick blood  
In such a cold retirement?— Well, I know not!  
But if she have made such a vow, and keep it!  
To find out such another, and a phoenix,  
Is but an equal labour.   Enter M. Rash. Rash. 
Save you Sir Oliver; save you, sweet Sir Oliver.  Sir Oli. 
As much to you Sir; kind M. Rash.  Rash. 
You have been with the widow; this melancholy Lady already. Give you much joy of your fair hopes Sir Oliver.  Sir Oli. 
As much to yourself; to yourself Sir, kind M. Rash.  Rash. 
I'll hope as much as I can, though you be a Knight; and I but an honest Citizen. A Mercer, is a Merchant, and will look for good Ware, for his Money.  To the door. Sir Oli. 
If he should enter now?— I'll see the issue.  Enter M. William. Rash. 
You know my coming: to speak with your Lady, M. William.  M. Wil. 
But she's not at leisure to hear you.  Rash. 
I hope you do but jest.  M. Wil. 
Believe me Sir, in earnest.  Rash. 
But, I'll not take't in earnest.  Offer to the door. M. Wil. 

But you must.— Then you'll be Rash indeed Sir.  
Though you be a Citizen, you are not free of this Hall,  
And therefore must have no admittance.   Exit Shut. Sir Oli. 
Give you much joy of your fair hopes.  
Another?  Enter Plush, a Gallant. Plush. 
Save you Gentlemen: how is't M. Rash?  Rash. 
As well as we may, M. Plush.  Plush. 
You have got the start of me, I see that Gentlemen. A Suit, brought me home this morning, made me lie so much the longer: but, my tailor's long Bill, like a Woodcock, as he is, shall be so much the longer a paying.— You have been within?  Rash. 
In our time Sir.  Plush. 
I mean, this morning.  Rash. 
But— the Lady means no such thing Sir.  Sir Oli. 
We heard of your Worships new Suit, and would not go in before it.  Plush. 
I'll lead the way then.  Stamp at the door. Enter M. William. 
M. William? good morrow good morrow sweet M. William.  M. Wil. 
That sweet, to your sweetest self Sir.  Plush. 
And where's thy Lady?— You see, we come, to come to her.—  Offer to the door. M. Wil. 
By your favour Sir, you are too hasty.  Plush. 
Why, is not thy Lady up yet?  M. Wil. 
Why, do you mean to take her down Sir?— Buy Sir.  Exit shut. Plush. 
This Fellow's saucy.  Sir Oli. 
Minds not your Worships new Suit Sir.— But we must be content.  Plush. 
We may be patient Sir, but not content; for nothing contents me, but the Lady.  Enter Sir Robert Malory. Rash. 
Nor me, but that beautiful Lady.  Sir Rob. 
Who have we here? Sweet and soft, M. Plush. M. Rash!— I dare be so bold as embrace you too.— But my Noble Sir. My Sir, of a thousand per annum.  Plush. 
Why, I can be a Knight, an I lust Sir.  Rash. 
An I can be a Knight, an I lust Sir.  Sir Rob. 
Dubbed, with the city Dagger.— Then Rash, would be rash indeed. You come to see my Sister?  Both. 
With all our hearts we would Sir.  Sir Rob. 

Alas good hearts.  
Me thinks the Gates should of themselves fly open,  
To such brave men as you are.   Sir Oli. 
You have the old heart, still Sir.  Sir Rob. 
The young heart still Sir Oliver;— the mad heart,— the merry heart; the light heart, with the candle of conceit, burning in it, as bright as Lucifer, Hesper, Vesper.  

You have not been within? I will make out this pair of Aces,  
And then you shall see my Sister.  
I perceive by your melancholy looks,  
My melancholy, pettish, peevish Sister,  
Is not at this time to be spoke withal.  
'Tis such a foolish thing;— She knows not worth,  
Nor how to entertain't: suffice it Gentlemen,  
I do;— And shall not go behind her back  
To let her know your merit.   Both. 
Will you Sir?  Sir Rob. 

And in a just proportion to that merit,  
That mass of Merit, you shall find her favour:  
So M. Plush, and worthy M. Rash,  
I shall desire you leave us.   Both. 
You'll remember.  Sir Rob. 

Shall I remember( Gentlemen) to eat?  
To drink? to sleep?— Then I'll remember you.   Exit Plush and Rash. Sir Oli. 
Then?— When Sir Robert?  Sir Rob. 
When I am asleep.— Awake, I shall never mind 'em. For their worship are hardly worth it.  Sir Oli. 
Yet in a just proportion, to their merit.  Ent. Abram. Sir Rob. 
Yes, that's just nothing:— Hang 'em glowworms, hang 'em.  Sir Oli. 
Here's another rub in our Ally Sir.  Sir Rob. 
A tenant's son o' mine.— And how does my honest Abr'am.  Abr. 
The better your good Worship is well Sir. I was to seek your good Worship, at your Right worshipful house Sir: but, missing you there, I rejoice I have met with you here.  Sir Rob. 
Why, what's the matter Abr'am, what's the matter?  Abra. 
In the way of love, as they say: from my father, and my sister; and my t'other sister too;— You know who I mean, Sir Robert.  Sir Rob. 
Thy scolding sister. Abr. You are in the right, Sir Robert.  Sir Rob. 
And how does Margaret, my pretty tenant?  Abra. 
That pretty one, is prettily well Sir.  Sir Rob. 
Remember me to her by this.— A Ring.  
Within these two or three days, at the furthest, I should breathe a Gelding; It may be, that ways, and visit my pretty tenant.  Abra. 
Long may your Worships Gelding breathe, and your worshipful self also.  
I am in haste Sir Robert.  Sir Rob. 
Take your own time good Abram.  Exit with Abra. 
Thank your good Worship Sir Robert.  Congees. Sir Rob. 

I have done your patience wrong; indeed I have;  
But, in the best, that lies in me to right it Door stamp.  
You shall command me Sir: Now to my Sister.  
Now, where's my Sister?   Enter Master William. M. Wil. 
she's within Sir Robert.  Sir Rob. 
Come then, let's to her.  M. Wil. 

You must pardon me.  
she's so retired to solitude; and set  
So deep in grief, that till her sighs, and tears,  
Will give her leave to give that entertain  
That shall become such worthy Visitants,  
( Which yet, they will not) 'tis her strict command  
That no man enter.   S. Rob. 
Not myself?  M Wil. 

Yourself,  
Sir, if you would not swell her grief too big  
For her faint breast to carry, give her way.  
A little time may change her.   ( Exit shut) S. Rob. 
'tis enough.— You see Sir Oliver.  S Oli. 
Your Love, Sir Robert.  S. Rob. 

But, as her Gentleman discreetly said,  
A little time may change her: We must still  
In such a kind humour a woman's will.  
But, she's thine own, be bold on't.—   Exeunt. Enter Master William, and Barbara. M. W. 
Come, thou mak'st such a Matter, of Nothing.  Bab. 
Nothing, do you call it, Master William? I know not, but I am sure, I feel it something— 'tis almost, kicking ripe already.  M. W. 
Almost, kicking ripe already,— Come, come, thou art, A chambermaid still;— And I prithee, what's this, but a work that belongs to the Chamber? Kicking ripe already, This is not the first time, that thou hast been kicked with an urchin. Once, Twice,— this is the third time of kicking.  Bab. 
Well, you won't, marry me?  M. W. 
And hazard my place, woe my Lady?— and yet, Now I think on't.— I will—  Bab. 
Marry me?  M. W. 
To some of my old acquaintance. There be a hundred in the City, that have swallowed worse bits than thou art. Hist.  Enter the Lady Mosely in mourning, veiled; the Lady Malory, and an old Gentlewoman. 
I know, my danger, and shall have a care, according.  La, Mos. 

Beseech you. Let the love you seem to show  
In these persuasions, be expressed in words,  
That better suit with such a robe as this,  
And my immutable resolve.   La. Mal. 
Immutable?— than we persuade, in vain.  M. W. 

I am bound to say  
You have lost a worthy Gentleman;— My self,  
A noble Master;— one that was a Man  
Worth your best memory: the multitude  
Of sighs you have sent after him, worth all  
The expense of tears, you have bestowed upon him.  
But when we look into his tomb and there  
See him locked up in Marble;— in the still,  
And sad imagined language of the Grave,  
We are instructed, Nay, commanded Lady,  
To period our vain grievings.   O. Gent. 

He has told you the naked truth on't.  
'Tis but in vain to grieve;— For, is't not said  
The quick must live byth' quick, and not byth' dead?  
He's gone,— Heaven be with him;— He was a Gentleman;  
An honest man;— and, which is more;— a proper Gentleman:  
But, when Gentility,— Honesty,— and proportion,  
Lie in the Grave once, I ha' done with 'em.   La. Mos. 
Thy tongue's my ceaseless torment.  La. Mal. 

Let me tell you,  
That infinite of love you seem to have fixed,  
Upon the heart of your departed Husband,  
Loses no scruple, of the worth it has,  
Placed on a second Husband.   O. Gent. 
Mark you that now?  La. Mal. 

Nay, I dare tell you, that in a second Match,  
You love him more; more love, more honour him,  
Then, in your mourning widowhood.   O. Gent. 
Mark you that now?  La. Mal. 

I'll make it open to you: whilst you keep  
Encompassed, with this solitude▪ a Widow,  
You seem, to voice, to the ill censuring world,  
Some imperfection in yourself; some stain  
Makes you unworthy of a second Match:  
At lest, unworthy, of a worthy Husband,  
And in th' opinion,( which is easily raised)  
Question your husband's judgement.— Or, it may be,  
The estate he left you Lady;— pulling so  
Upon the Name, you strive to dignify,  
Disgrace, defames, and scandal.   O. Gent. 
Mark you that now?  La. Mal. 

If you so loved him living, love him dead,  
As I advise you Lady.   O. Gent. 
Ay, I, do.  La. Mal. 

'Tis the best tombstone you can lay upon him;  
The noblest Monument, you can erect;  
And to that Monument, an Epitaph,  
Shall make him live for ever.   O. Gent. 

Law you there now!— shall make him live for ever!  
You are not dumb trow?— are you?   La Mos. 

Would thou we●…'t.  
Or I had lost my hearing.— I can wish  
Nothing more adverse to me, than your tongues:  
And therefore, if your visits bring with them  
Nothing, but these persuasions.   La. Mal. 
Keep away.  O. Gent. 
Nay, as good speak't as think it.— Here's a coil for a Husband, I have had for mine own part,— 1.— 2.— 3.— 4. And yet if the fift come up handsomely to me,— I know what I know, I warrant you.  La, Mal. 
How five?  Enter M. William. O. Gent. 
Fifteen, an the Destinies so have decreed it.  M. Wil. 
Madame, there be suitors below would see you: M. Rash, the Mercer;— one Plush, a humorous Gallant;— and a spick and span new suitor, a Country Gentleman,— one, M. Gregory Dwindle.  O. Gent. 
Spruce M. Rash I know.  La. Mal. 
And I M. Plush, a notable humorous Coxcomb. But what's that Gregory?  M. Wil. 
Unknown to me: but believe me, together, They make up, a delicate motion.— Is your ladyship pleased to see 'em?  La. Mal. 
Present your Motion somewhere else, our griefs give way to no such lightness.  M. Wil. 
Very good.— I'll tell 'em what you say:  L. Mal. 

Pray stay a little.  
I know these suitors are but empty things;  
Not worth one serious entertain; yet Sister,  
I wooed not have you beat 'em back, at door:  
Pray let 'em enter; Let 'em look upon you.   La. Mos. 
Still your desire's, my anguish.  O. Gent. 
Come, come, pray.— You are so melancholy.  La Mal. 
Why, their mirth— will be a means to cure you.  La. Mos. 
Kill me rather.  O. Gent. 
Go, prithee bid 'em come.  La. Mos. 
Bid 'em be gone.  La. Mal. 
Nay, then, you're too too cruel.— prithee stay.  La. Mos. 

Nay, an you know no other merriment,  
Than what you raise from my vexation, take it;  
I will not hinder your desires; pray take it.   O. Gent. 
You will not leave us, will you?  La. Mos. 
Leave this room.  La. Mal. 

And go mew yourself up in your Chamber?  
An you will needs:— Let me entreat one favour.   L. Mos. 
Well, what is't?  L. Mal. 

That, in your absence you'd be pleased to let  
Your waiting Gentlewoman, Mistress Barbary,  
Appear in your apparel: 'tis but slipping off  
This upper garment; and this mourning veil,  
And she's my Lady.   M. Wil. 
How?— My Bab, my Lady!  L. Mal. 

It will be sport to us; and to yourself  
A rare advantage Sister: for this trick  
Keeps all your foolish suitors at that distance,  
Their trouble shall ne'er touch you.— Will you?   O. Gent. 
Will you?  L. Mos. 

Though pleasure, be no pleasure to this bosom,  
Since you propose th'acquittance of that trouble,  
Your desire's granted.   L. Mal. 

But be speedy then  
With your directions for her carriage in it, Exit L. Mosly.  
And we shall fit 'em neatly.— Call 'em in.   O. Gent. 
Did you ever see such a self-willed thing as this is?— a widow these two months, and yet not hear of a suitor.  Enter M. William, Rash, Plush, and Gregory. M. Wil. 
The Gentlemen, an't please you.  Greg. 
Yes indeed, an't please you.  O. Gent. 
Master Rash.  Rash. 
Your servant, good deed law, Gentlewoman.  L. Mal. 
Master Plush.  Plush. 
My name is Plush; Master my Title, and Sir, a Title, that may be.  Greg. 
And my name is Gregory—  Plush. 
Fop: thy sound is out o' season.— But where's the Lady?  Rash. 
Ay, where's the Lady?  Greg. 
We would see the Lady.  Plush. 
I hope she has done mourning now,— has she not?  Greg. 
Why, does the Lady mourn?  M. Wil. 
Indeed she does.  Greg. 
'tis a delicate thing to mourn.— Well, an my Father would but die once!  
Would we could see this Lady.  Enter Barbara, like her Lady, armed in by M. William. O. Gent. 
You have your wish already.  Rash. 
Beauteous Lady!  Plush. 
Most beauteous Lady!  Greg. 
Most beautiful Lady, that may be: for yet, I see no such matter.  Plush. 

Thine eyes are veiled with ignorance, or else,  
Through this thin veil, thou might'st, as we,— behold  
Matter of admiration!— You'll vouchsafe;—  
Not yet.   Bab. 

Alas:— upon their Captive heart,  
My sorrows yet have set too strong a Guard  
For such delights to enter.   Plush. 

I could wish▪  
That conqueror of thy heart, and all his Guard  
Were visible, that I might challenge them.   M. Wil. 
I marry sir; that we●…e a challenge indeed.  Plush. 
Me thinks I could— do—  La. Mal. 
What, do you think you could do Sir?  Plush. 
O— my most delicate Lady!  M. Wil. 
Do,— his— most delicate Lady.— A terrible do, indeed law.  O Gent. 

Well Lady; if this be the man shall have you,  
You shall have a man, I can tell you.   Greg. 

If I be the man that shall have her,  
She shall have a man, I can tell you.   O Gent. 
But, he's a fighting man.  Greg. 
A fighting man?— Let him play at the ancient weapon, an he were a Fencing man, I'll have a Bout with him.  La. Mal. 
The ancient weapon?— What weapon's that?  Greg. 
Why this?  His hand. M. Wil. 
As wise, as valiant! 'tis the ancientest weapon indeed Sir.  La. Mal. 
And why not this?  His Rapier. Greg. 
I am better acquainted with this.  Plush. 
Well, we shall meet?  Greg. 
And meet again:— Tell me of fighting Lady!  O Gent. 

I see you are valiant Sir;— and you are happy  
In having so much valour as you see  
Attend your beauty.   Bab. 

I must confess them, worthy Gentlemen;  
But they must pardon me:— the worth I ha' lost,  
With my dead husband, is so full, and fresh,  
Upon my understanding, that all else  
Have ●…et but homely entertain:— And yet,  
You're welcome Gentlemen.—   All 3. 
For that, we thank you.  Rash. 
We must hope still.  Greg. 

Well, an my Father would but die once!  
I live in hope too Lady.   M. Wil. 
You see their valour Sir:— and what's your weapon?  Rash. 
I am no man of the sword;— I have no weapon.  O. Gent. 
How Sir?— No weapon!—  M. Wil. 
What should you do in Cupid's fencing school, And have no weapon?  Rash. 
There was a time,— I could have crossed a eudgell.  M. Wil. 
And that you Sir?  Rash. 
Good sooth sometimes I can tell you:— yet, if any man strike me, I have a weapon too Sir.  M. Wil. 
The coldest flint, has fire I see: What weapon?  Rash. 
One, that is indeed,— All weapons.— Long-Sword; Sword and Dagger;— Sword and Buckler; Single Rapier, Rapier and Dagger; Case o' Rapiers; halberd, half-pike; quarterstaff; Short-Sword and Gauntlet; and that terrible Fly-flap, the falchion.  All. 
All these in on●…?—  Rash. 
Or one that's worth all these;— and that,— in a word, is the Law Sir.  M. Wil. 
A terrible weapon indeed Sir.  Rash, 
There, let me firk 'em, and jerk 'em: There, Let me stand upon terms;— There, Let me play the Master, and M. attorney, my usher, and then,— with all the weapons in that School, have at 'em.  En. Sir Rob. and Sir Oli. M. Wil. 
This goes beyond your Rapier; or your ancient weapon, the Fist.  L. Mal. 
Body o' me, my husband, and Sir Oliver.  Bab. 
What's to be done?  L. Mal. 
Do, as thou hast done Wench.  O. Gent. 
Play the Lady, a little longer.  L. Mal. 
Handsomely Bab, and I'll promise thee, it shall cost me a Chamble●… Pettycoat.  Bab. 
I'll do't as well as I can then.  Sir Rob. 
Come, come, we will speak, and speed too, my Knight, of a thousand per annum where's this mourning Lady?— What, my madonna?— and my Lady Littleworth. Heyday? This covey of Coxcombs too!  Rash. 
Sir Robert.  Sir Rob 
One.—  Plu. 
Kind Sir Robert.  Sir Rob. 
Two..—  Greg. 
Worthy Sir Robert.—  Sir Rob. 
Three, yet never a wise word amongst 'em.— What, still in Du●…bs, and dolours?— An ye were as heavy as Lead, 'twas but a light trick of you to deny access to such a brave man as this is, and allow't to such mimics as these are.— Death, ●… could kick 'em out o' the room. And you, though you be my wife's sister, for lodging such baseness within you.  O. Gent. 
Why, you are not out of your wits?  Sir Rob. 
You have no wit to be out of. Gentlemen, you are all— hobby-horses. An it please you, to leave the house now; and come again,— when you are sent for,— you shall be— heartily glad, to be welcome.  La. Mal. 
You see his humour Gentlemen; pray leave us.  M. Wil. 
There's no resisting of him; for he has Rapier, fist, the law, and all, for any man, that shall thwart him.  Greg. 
Why, but I hope—  L. Mal. 
Not one word more, an you love me.  M. Wil. 
Off, ere the flame grow higher.  — Exit the 3. Sir Rob. 
Come, take my counsel, and forget him.  Bab. 
Never.  Sir Oli. 
Still looking downward, to your husband's grave?  Bab. 

To those that wear so sad a suit as this,  
The Grave's the glass they use to deck 'em by.  
Pray give me leave.   L. Mal. 
She does it to a hair.  Sir Rob. 

Prithee look up a little;— I can show thee  
A glass, shall show thee better things;— a glass,  
That shall reflect, no such affrighting shadows—   Sir Oli. 

Nor shadows( Beauteous Lady) but the same  
True, and essential comforts.   Bab. 
O.— O.— O.  M. Wil. 
Excellent, mourning Lady.  Sir Rob. 

The nuptial knot, binds loving pairs together,  
Only for term of life, has no extent  
O'er the divorce of Death.   Bab. 
Pray, pray no more.  Sir Oli. 

That only binds the living to the living,  
And not the living to the dead.   Sir Rob. 

That flesh that has a soul within it, the endowments,  
And excellencies, bounteous Heaven bestows,  
To that, has nothing but the frightful shape,  
And key-cold figure of a man.   Sir Oli. 

Yet this,  
While thus, you dote upon your husband's dust,  
You do sweet Lady; and this beauty bind  
To stenches, and corruption; so imposing  
Upon yourself Mezentius cruelty.   Bab. 
You have my resolution; so, pray leave me.  Sir Oli. 

An you be buried in your husband's grave,  
I see my suit must die too.   Sir Rob. 

Yes, and let it  
For ever, Let it die to her, and live  
To one that better shall deserve it: come,  
I'll bring thee, though she be mine own madonna's Sister,  
My Knight, of a thousand per annum, to her betters:— one that is younger, fairer, richer, and it may be,— Honester too Sir.   L. Mal. 
How Sir Robert? Honester.  O. Gent. 
Honester?  Sir Rob. 
An she prostrate herself to a set o' morris-dancers;— and neglect such a Caesar as this is.— Come Sir Oliver, come, let's away.  L. Mal. 

Nay, but hark you, hark you Sir Robert; and worthy Sir Oliver; that you may see this Lady,  
Is not the woman that you take her for;  
Look, do you know this Lady?   Sir Rob. 
How, Mistress Bab?  Sir Oli. 
My Lady's Chambermaid!  M. Wil. 
A trick o' mirth they put upon these Coxcombs.  Sir Rob. 
Were you my Lady?  Bab. 
So, your Lady would have it, Sir Robert.  Sir Rob. 
Why, godamercy faith.  M. Wil. 
There's all the comfort they are like to have.  L. Mal. 

This cloud's like Juno; the poor shadow Sir.  
The substance, we'll court for you.   Sir Rob. 
My Lady Bab.— How like you this Sir Oliver?  Sir Oli. 

This change, has put some life into me Sir.  
And I must tell you, bettered my opinion  
Both of the Lady's wisdom, and her goodness.   Sir Rob. 
But hark you wife, may we not see my Sister?  L. Mal. 

●…aith, yet her temper is not as we'd have it:  
But we shall win her by degrees, and turn  
Her melancholy to a sprightly humour.   O. Gent. 
A day, or two day's passage.  Sir Rob. 

Come Sir Oliver.  
Mean time we'll see what mirth my house can yield  
To entertain you with.— A ha, my girl!  
Why such a Wench is worth her weight in pearl.   Exit. M. Wil. 

Well, thou hast played my Lady, like a Lady.  
I have a trick from this conceit, to do,  
Shall make us sport, and help thy swelling too.   Exit.  

Act. 2.  Enter old Thrashard, and Margaret his daughter, neatly dressed. Margaret. 
Sir, I have spoke my danger.  Thra. 

A dangerous case believe me.  
And yet, methinks, there's no great danger neither.  
For, say a man offer to blow thee up with Love-powder,  
If his train lie so open, you may see it, you have the wit I hope to shun it;— h'aned you.   Marg. 
I have done hitherto.  Thra. 
And dost thou fear,— thou shalt hold out no longer?  Marg. 

Sir, I do not.  
For, all the policies, and power he has,  
Can ne'er prevail to conquest.— No, tho fear  
Be to our Sex a common attribute;  
In such a fight as this, my resolution  
Has that heroic temper, I dare meet  
My death, ere my dishonour:— my dishonour!  
For virtue's virtue, in what breast soe'er,  
And her great splendour, equal.   Thra. 

Splend?— Heyday!  
But to the point, what is he?— Do I know him?   Mar. 
Yes, if you know Sir Robert Malory, Your Landlord Father.  Thra. 
How Sir Robert?  Marg. 

He.— Sometimes,—( tho clouded in a course disguise)  
He lays temptations to mine ear himself:  
Sometimes by deputy; sometimes by Letters;  
And sometimes by rich gifts.— As if that gem  
( Once gone) can never be bought back again,  
Were to be fold so basely.— Here's my sore,  
Assist me in the remedy.   Thra. 

Sir Robert!  
He aim against thy chastity? Alas.  
Has he bestowed upon thine infancy,  
That care, and cost, that he has done?— maintained thee  
Among his own?— Fed thee among his own?  
Apparelled thee, as he has clothed his own?  
In the same school, in the same qualities,  
Had thee instructed with his own?— Has he  
So beautified thy mind?— So graced thy body!  
So many years in his own house!— And now—  
( So close his favours follow thee)— does he  
Maintain thee here?— Here in this homely roof,  
A star to that poor glimmering candle light,  
My poverty could afford thee!— And for this,  
Is this the best you can return him?   Marg. 

No— Father, for these should I forget to pay,  
The most obsequious duties I can tender,  
'Twere just in heaven I should forget myself.   Thra. 

Had this been spoke of any other man.  
I might have lent an ear to't:— but, Sir Robert!  
Noble Sir Robert!— that brave man, Sir Robert!  
Our bounteous Benefactor!— Say he have  
Scattered some words i'th' way of merriment,  
Some pleasant, idle,— wanton,— what d' ye call't?  
Sprinkled a little Bawdry in his speech?  
( As Courtiers may, and ne'er be questioned for it)  
That cuts not off a maidenhead.— Nay, perchance  
The merriment, that you in erpret lust,  
Was his mere love to virtue.   Marg. 
Virtue!  Thra. 

Yes.— 'tis my conceit, that all his talk,— his  
Letters, and all the gifts he sent thee, were employed,  
〈◊〉' way of trial:— Not to make thee naught;  
But, so to sound thy goodness.   Mar. 
Sound my goodness!  Thra. 

Not to o'ercome thy chastity; but to try  
If any other should assail the Fort,  
How stoutly thou'dst maintain it.   Marg. 

Think you so?  
I'll think so too then Father:— Let him try me.  
But jest, or earnest, he shall ne'er come nigh me.   Ent. Gillian. Gil. 
Why, this is fine, you have the golden time on't.  Thra. 
What golden time?— You'll still be scolding.  Gil. 
Scolding!— Marry come up Mistress Jinnie-●…innie; We cannot speak to you, but we scold.— Well, I say little.  Thra. 
Nothing at all were better.  Gil. 
But I'll say something; Has a woman a tongue to say nothing?  Marg. 
Prithee be patient Sister.  Gil. 
Yes I wauned you. I must wash, and scour; And Brew, and Bake, and do this thing,— and do that thing; and do every thing; while such a beautiful blouse as you are, must sit still o' your tail, and do nothing.  Thra. 
Why, dost thou not see her at her work?  Gil. 
At wo●…k!— A geate piece o work, a deed law!— Prick, prick, prick.— As if she had nothing in the world to mind— but Prick, Prick, Prick.— But 'tis no matter,— 'tis but my hard fortune; I am a fool indeed, and so you make me.  Thra. 
What, what, a shower after this peal of thunder?— Na●…, do not cry good Gillian.  Enter Abram. Abr. 
O, Father, Father.  Thra. 
Now Boy, what news with you now?  Abr. 
Brave news Father,— News of the brave Sir Robert  Mar. 

Pursue me still?— Good Father give me leave,  
While he's come in, and gone again.—   Thra. 
What leave?  Mar. 

To abs●…nt myself;— but in some neighbour's house:  
I have a trick to pass him— You may tell him,  
I'm gone to London.   Abr. 
When I have told him already, you are here in the parlour a sewing.  Thra. 

Come, you're a Baggage; you're a foolish Baggage,  
To injure with such frivolous suspi●…ions,  
A Gentleman of his repute, and goodness!  
Come, let me hear no more on't.   Abr. 
Sister Gillian,— I have the rarest news for you!  Gil. 
For me▪ 'tis well;▪ And what news have you got for me Sir?  Abr. 
Skipping news, lipping news, tripping news.  Gil. 
How, Dancing brother Abr'am?— Dancing!  Abr. 

Prancing, advancing, dancing!  
Nay, 'tis a Match;— a Match upon a Wager.   Gil. 
A Match.— Who be they?  Abra. 

Why, all the Maids of our Town Edmonton,  
And all the mad Wenches of Waltam.   Gil. 
A Match, and leave me out?— When, when is't Brother?  Abra. 
Marry, ●…e'n this morning;— they are now going to't, helter skelter.  A Treble plays within. Gil. 
And leave me out?— Where brother Abram? where?  Abr. 
Why there, Sister Gillian; there.— At our own door almost: O●… the green there, close by the maypole. Hark, you may hear them hither.  Gillian dances and sings. Gil. 

Ta la la la leero, ta lafoy, la leero— &c.  
An I be not one.—   Exit. Abra. 
thou't never be two, I think;— For on my conscience, there is no man that knows her, has valour enough, to come near her▪  Thra. 

Why, well said girl, keep but that resolution, Enter Sir Robert Mal●…ry.  
And let his purposes, be what they can,  
They cannot hurt thee.— Look, he's come already.   Sir Rob. 
Good morrow tenant;— good morrow beautiful tenant.  Thra. 
As much to my worthy Landlord.  Abra. 
As much to my worthy Landlord.  Sir Rob. 

My tenant Abra'm!— God-a-mercy good  
Tenant Abra'm.  
I want your welcome fair one.   Mar. 
Sir, you are welcome.  Sir Rob. 

Had this bi●… spoke, with smiles upon thy cheek,  
I durst have sworn the Syllables had been  
The Language of thy heart; thy heart, sweet Peggy.  
What, still so adverse to my pleasure?— tenant—  
And my young tenant;— shall I crave the room?  
I have something to deliver from my Lady,  
That she would have a secret to the ear  
Of any, But fair Margaret.   Thra. 

The room?  
Our poverty possesses nothing Sir,  
But what is yours; you may command it.— Come.   Abra. 
I smell my Landlord; but,— no words but mum.  Exit Thrash, and Abram. Sir Rob. 

Still, still this cloud upon thy brow sweet Peg?  
You know my mind.   Mar. 
And you know mine Sir Robert.  Sir Rob. 
I mean, I love thee, my sweet Peggy.  Mar. 
Do you?— Not half so well as I love you.  Sir Rob. 

Love me!  
Then there's some hope again.— Why, god-a-mercy,  
Let's see how handsomely thou'lt give thy body  
To my embraces girl.— How, fly 'em Peg?  
Not kiss me neither?— such a thing denied,  
How canst thou say thou lovest me?   Mar. 

Yes Sir Robert:  
I love you in your Name: your Reputation;  
The dignity you carry in your years;  
The goodness should go with 'em;— In your Lady;  
I love you Sir, i'th' fair Benevolence  
You owe her virtues.   Sir Rob. 
Heyday;— Love me q●…ha!— Nay, come, come.  Mar. 

I love you in your vows.  
Those nuptial vows, that whilst you live should live  
Unstained between you:— In a word Sir Robert,  
I love you in that purity,— that shall,  
When death shall threaten your last minute to you,  
Make you look boldly on him; smile upon him;  
And in conclusion, seal you, one of those,  
That, from this veil of trouble, he conveys  
To th' purity of Angels:— Thus, I love you.   Rob. 

This is not that I look for: hark you Margaret;  
Your Father is my tenant.   Mar. 
Sir, he is.  Sir Rob. 

Nay, since you urge it, let me tell you Minion,  
He's not my tenant, neither; but my Beadsman.   Mar. 

And like an humble Beadsman, in his Prayers  
Remembers all your Charity.   Sir Rob. 
He does:— But you forget it fair one.  Mar. 

Then let heaven,  
Whence we Petition, the Reward it merits,  
Forget me too.   Sir Rob. 

Is't not forgetfulness  
When all the love,— the tender cares, and cost,  
That from thy infancy, to this Ripe groweth,  
I have bestowed upon you, cannot gain me  
Such a request as this is!   Mar. 

This? Alas.  
Your greatest gain's in losing.— Nay, I'll tell you,  
The love, the care,— that cost, that Noble breeding,  
That seems to you a winning Argument,  
Is my best Argument against you.   Sir Rob. 
How?  Mar. 

Why Sir, the Education;— that fair breeding  
You have bestowed upon my poverty,  
Has made me what I am:— So copiously  
Furnished my soul, with all that best adorns her,  
That whatsoever's in opposition to't,  
Has no admittance to her;— near her;— No,—  
But,— most deservedly, do rank themselves  
With things, that most displease her.— Such a thing,— is—   Sir Rob. 
What?— My Love?  Mar. 

No, but your lust Sir Robert.— I am bold,  
But I can kneel to beg your mercy for it.   Kneel. Sir Rob. 

What, she imagines water to my flame,  
Is oil t'increase't: the more she puts me off,  
The more she pulls me to her.— Come, come rise,  
Though you be so unkind;— Come, prithee kiss me. Kiss her▪  
Why, God a mercy Peg;— again, again;  
Why, this is somewhat yet: we must not look  
At once, to have so great a happiness  
As that we aim at. We must use degrees.  
Lock me, once more, in thy embrace, and buss me,  
And then.—   Mar. 
What then?  Sir Rob. 

For this time Peg I'll leave thee.—  
What, leave thee, and leave nothing with thee Wench?  
Nay, that were foul play Peggy: there,— Nay, take it.  
Indeed you shall.   Mar. 

Indeed, indeed I wonot:  
For any service, I can do you Sir,  
Your favour's price sufficient.— No, not yet?  
I see, mine eye's a Remora:— I have't.  
How I forget my duty?— Here so long,  
And ne'er a chair to ease you?— Abra'm,— Brother.  
Pray pardon me Sir Robert.   Enter Abram. Sir Rob. 
How, a chair?— Kinder, and kinder still.  Mar. 
Come, come, a chair there for Sir Robert.  Abra. 

She pities your standing Sir Robert.— But I have a chair,  
Almost at my finger's end.— Look you Sir,  
Will it please you. Bum this Cushion?   Sir Rob. 
How, Bum it ●…ennant?  Abra. 
Yes, Bum it Landlord:— look you Sir, o' this fashion.  Sit. Mar. 
Come, you'll be foolish still.— You know my mind. Go, bring ●…▪ m in.  Whisper. Abr. 
An I bring 'em not in, let Sir Rob. kick me out.  Exit. Mar. 
Lord, how forgetful I have been Sir Robert? But, I beseech your pardon.  Sir Rob. 

Pardon thee?  
And sealed upon thy lip;— Come prithee sit. Treble within.  
Nay, nay, sit by me;— ne'er a stool?— Sit here then.   Mar. 
Be fairly civil Sir;— Nay, good Sir Robert.  Sir Rob. 
How now,— what's that?  Mar. 
Music Sir Robert.  Sir Rob. 

Music?— Rot on their fiddle, and their fiddle strings,  
Thou art my music.— heyday, here's a morris.   Enter six Country Wenches, all red Pettycoates, white stitched Bodies, in their Smock-sleeves, the fiddler before them, and Gillian, with her Tippet up, in the midst of them dancing▪ Abram with 'em. Gil. 

You see we sweat to make your Worship merry.  
How do you like our pastime?   Sir Rob. 
I like it so well, I could wish you were further off with't.  Maids. 
Have we this for our kindness Sir Robert?  Gil. 
Marry, come up Sir Robert.  Sir Rob. 

Nay, there's no talking to 'em.  
Come, in the heat, and height, of all her kindness!   Mar. 
Shall I entreat you, Leave the room?  Maids. 
The room!  Abra. 
So she said: but I know she means no such matter,— only a trick:  
Tell her, you wonot go.  Mar. 
Pray leave the room.  Maids. 
We wonot.  Mar. 
Wonot?  Maid. 
No.  Peg. 
We were sent for in; and we wonot go out again yet.  Maid. 
An your Knighthood were—  Peg. 
— A 1000 pounds purchase.  Sir Rob. 
Heyday, they'll bait me,— and they wonot I must.  Gil. 
Out?— Marry gip there, ne'er a good inch of a thousand.— Fidler, strike.  
I strike you else;— and cut your begging bowstrings.  Sir Rob. 
I must be gone I see: these miserably impudent stallions— Do but remember me, as I shall thee;— and— Nothing grieves me,— but—  Mar. 
But what Sir Robert?  Sir Rob. 
That,— we cannot kiss at parting—  Exit. Gil. 
Come,— we'll e'en have the t'other ●…out,— and then.—  Mar. 
Nay, we'll no more at this time ●…here's enough.  Gil. 

For you:— But 'tis not enough for me then:  
You shall command us, shall you?   Mar. 

Nay, be not angry Sister:  
'Tis no command, but my entreat:— Good Sister.   Peg. 
Well, since you entreat me, and seem to know your betters,— you shall have your will, for once.— Fid. lead the way;— and Wenches follow your Leader.  Exit Fid. and the Maids. Abr 
Leader.— An scolding were fighting, what a Leader wouldst thou be Gillian?— thou'dst bring 'em on, with a powder. O Father, Father.  Enter old Thrashard. Thra. 
Ne'er a wise word, for a wager.— Sir Robert's gone I see.  Mar. 
Yes Sir, he is.  Thra. 

And how dost find him girl? I do not think  
The man, that thy suspicion seemed to make him.   Mar. 

You have a good opinion of him Father,  
And, I'll not stand to cross it.   Thra. 

Nay, nay, come;  
In plain terms, tell me▪ how didst find him?— ha?   Mar. 

As good conceal't, and languish, as reveal't,  
And find no comfort.   Thra. 

thou'rt a pertish thing:  
And— I'm afraid, have been distasteful to him:  
I'm half afraid on't girl:— we must be wise;  
By's ●…own we fall Wench; by his favours rise.   Exeunt. Enter Sir Oliver Bellingham, and the Lady Mosely. Sir Oli. 

Distilling still, salt water to deface  
That masterpiece of Nature?— Can the heart  
Thus feast itself, upon the Baine of hearts?  
For such is grief sweet Lady.   Lady. 

Good enough▪  
To make this flesh as my dead Husbands is,  
A banquet to corruption.   Sir Oli. 

Still that Note?  
Touch only that dull string of death?   Lad. 

When life  
Would willingly exchange itself with Death,  
What music sweeter?   Sir Oli. 

I must tell you Lady,  
I thought the music of your husband's end,  
Those heavenly Notes he entertained it with,  
Taught him by Angels, had instructed you,  
To look upon that Being that he has,  
As he's a glorious Chorister with them!  
And not upon that Burden of the flesh  
Left in the Grave behind him.— Or at least,  
Not so, to look upon your Husband dead,  
As thus, to die yourself. For what is't, while  
Of life's best hopes, you shall your Life deprive,  
But what I tell you?— to be dead, alive.   Lad. 
Sir, as I am, pray leave me.  Sir Oli. 
Only so?— Out-ryvald by the dead.  Lad. 

To me he lives:  
And in so vive a figure, every hour's  
Presented to me, that I feel no less  
Command o▪ re my ●…ffections in that shape;  
Nor less Attraction of my duty to it,  
Then when he had that hear, gave all those parts,  
That now ly●… useless, their peculiar motion.  
Nay, so that shape▪ s impressed upon my soul,  
That he appears so really mine own,  
As, all the embraces of a second March  
Would ●…ick upon me, like the leprous stains  
Of Lust, and base adultery. In a word▪  
That figure 〈◊〉 his bosom:— And in this  
Pray understand the vainness of your suit,  
And so▪ conclude it.   Sir Oli 

This command upon it,  
It dies, though I die with it.— Yet thus much Lady,  
I have not, in this eagerness of Suit,  
Pu●…sued, what's yours, But you.— The gifts of Fortune;  
The state your birth allowed you▪ or th'addition,  
By your lost husband, left you; But the endowments  
Of your fair soul,— your virtues,— And of those  
The ampl●…st Dower,( I cannot slatter here)  
Beauty was ever blessed withal! These Lady  
Have been the object of my Love.   Lad. 

A Love,  
That, could I love, I should e'en dote upon;  
And in a Title, far beneath your own,  
Prefer●…t, above all Title; though it came  
Roab●…d in the state of Princes.— But—   Sir Oli. 

No more.  
I have my answer, and am married.   Lad. 
Married!  Sir Oli. 

As you are Madam; never to be married:  
Be that the witness of my Love.   Lad. 

Admired!  
I should not be a woman, should I not  
Love such a Love as this is!   Sir Oli. 

Do you Lady?  
Then, I revoke that Vow, and dare embrace you.   Lad. 

But understand me Sir▪ I love your Love:  
And— as yourself, have pleased to speak of me  
Those singular virtues, it is built upon▪  
That, I am fixed on; with that estimate,  
That, next the memory of my dead husband,  
I●… shall be my best comfort.— Thus I love you;  
But, must not marry.   Sir Oliver. 

I ha' done.— Yet Lady  
In this;— this purest, Imateriall things  
There may be made a contract; and the assurance  
Of such a Love, as this is, interchanged  
And fairly sealed between us.   Lad. 
Sir, how mean you?  Sir Oli. 

Fairest, you have vowed your widowhood to the grave,  
At least, you have so protested: yet because  
Our hearts, and purposes, are not our own;  
And, that no bosom has that constancy,  
But heaven's may alter, the resolve it has,  
And make it follow, what it fled;— it may.  
My Love Petitions, that if ere hereafter,  
You find that alteration, in your soul,  
And again fancy wedlock,— ay— your servant,  
May— for that second happiness to heaven,  
Stand fairest in your Election.   Lad. 
Pray no more.  Sir Oli. 
Give my request an answer:— If you do.  Lad. 

A fruitless promise: and suppose it made,  
This would but—   Sir Oli. 

What?— I understand you Lady.  
It shall not make me bolder, in my suit;  
Nor prompt my love, in any treacherous way  
To gain, what it so follows.— No; I know  
The man, would basely, compass such a joy,  
Like him that fishes with a poisoned bait,  
Infects the meat should feed him.— fairest, I won't;  
Nor vex you with one syllable; but Live,  
Vowed, like yourself, till such a change shall be  
To amorou●… Language, silent.— Is it granted?  
If my b●…st thoughts merit but this, express it   Lad. 

That satisfaction take.— If ere I mary  
It shall be you; so help me heaven.   Sir Oli. 

To which  
I am rapt in this sweet tone.— If ere I know  
The sweets of Hymen, I must find'em here;  
So help me heaven!— So, we are married now:  
And in this joy I leave you.   Enter the Lady Malorie, and the old Gentlewoman. La. Mal. 

What Sir Oliver? going  
As we are entering?   O Gen. 
Does your Lady, drive you hence with a frown?  Sir Oli. 

My smiles may tell you, here has been no frowning.  
she's fair and noble; and in these sweet hopes, Enter Sir Rob. Malorie.  
That she has given me, I am pleased.   O Gen. 
'●is well.  Sir Rob. 

A vengeance of all morris dancers▪  
I am sure, they ha' marred, my dancing: that delicate dance  
That I should have had with my tenant.   Sir Oli. 
All joy be with you Ladies; I must leave you,  Sir Rob. 

Here's a ●…ub in your way a while, my brave  
Knight, of a 1000 per Annum.  
And how dost find her?— is she coming? ha?   Sir Oli. 

You see my hop●…s set smiles upon my cheek,  
Let them resolve you sir.   Sir Rob. 

I understand you:  
Why? god a mercy sister: when's the day?   Sir Oli. 
Nay, question that no farther, we shall talk on't.  O Gen. 
When a things done, 'tis done.  Sir Rob. 
You'd fain be doing to then.  Enter Mr. William O. Gent. 

Wooed I not?  
Do you think I am all dead flesh?— I warrant you.   Sir Rob. 
Now Mr. William?— what good tidings now sir?  Mr. Wi. 

My news is, worthy sir, that Mullinex  
That stout sea captain, is returned from sea:  
Is come to London, and that yesterday▪  
He was upon th' Exchange.   Sir Rob. 
George Mullinex?  Mr. Wi. 

That Gentleman:— and but this morning Lady,  
He wa●… seen at the phoenix, in fleeet-street.   Sir Rob. 

Body o'me I should have told you so— but, I  
Have su●…h a Memory—!   ●…. Oli. 
How ●…'st?— ha?— you lose colour 〈◊〉.  O Gent. 
Lady.  La. Mal 
Sister  Sir Oli. 

Beshrew the name, and owner of that name  
That has disturbed you.— what's that name to you?   La. Mos. 
Sir, nothing but my trouble.  Sir Rob. 

A troublesome captain indeed sir,  
A suit once, in her virgin days  
And rival to her husband, Sir James Mosely.  
But, missed the mark he aimed at— he shot fair▪  
But Mosely fairer.— upon which, Sir Oliver  
He went to sea; where having been three years,  
And now Returning, hearing,( as it seems)  
That she's a widow, he'd renew his suit,  
Give her a broadside sir, and board her! Nay  
gave a hot rival, I can tell you that:  
One that will Quarrel;— fight— and— by my faith—  
I'm half afraid of danger.   Sir Oli. 

If he be not,  
All valour, and no judgement, I fear none;  
And yet, that heat, that has not judgement with it,  
Cannot be counted valour, but a rash  
Unknowing willingness,— which I won't think  
Him guilty of;— But, whatsoever he be,  
I'll be, but what becomes me.   O. Gent. 
Leave the room.  La. Mal. 
Good truth now, but you shall not.  Sir Oli. 
Leave the room?— What fear you Lady?  La. Mos. 

I have cause enough,  
For he'll but trouble me with that, heaven knows  
I have no mind to hear of.   Sir Oli. 

If he have  
No power upon you Lady by some promise,  
Formerly past between you—   La. Mos. 

I had never,  
That unpreparedness in me, to do that  
In cause of such a Consequence as this,  
And break it sir.   Sir Oli. 

Such Beauty, and untruth  
Were ne'er comoanions: 'tis believed.   L. Mal. 

Come, come,  
It may be, some new beauty has him now:  
Some foreign Mistress.   Enter Rash, Plush, and Gregory. Sir Rob. 

Or, it may be sister,  
This time of service in the wars, had made him  
Only in love, with fighting.   La. Mose. 
More vexation?  Sir Rob. 

This mountain, bring forth a Mouse▪  
Have we talked all this while of a captain,  
And now, must be troubled, with Coxcombs?   Plu. 
The gods, protect you Lady.  O Gen. 
Thank you sir.  Plu. 
I spoke to that sweet Beauty.  O gen. 

But I must speak to you sir; for you see she has other employment,  
Pray, stand aside a little.   Plu. 
If I must— I shall attend her leisure.  O Gen. 
You must attend her too sir:— do you not see, she's busy?  Rash. 
I would not interrupt her.  Greg. 

I would not interrupt her?— Is that the resolution of a Lover?  
Let me come to her.   Sir Oli. 
But, you shall not sir.  Greg. 
Why? if I shall not sir,— I won't sir.  Sir Rob. 
Is that the resolution of a Lover?  Enter Capt. Mullyneux rushing in by Mr. William and others. Greg. 

A man can do, no more than a can do,  
But, an my father would but die once!   Capt. 

Make nice to me of entrance?  
Where's the Widow?  
For so I hear she's now: what mourning still?  
I'm a bold gamester:— Save you all at once.  
All suiters Gentlemen?   Rash. 
Yes indeed sir; we are all suitors.  Sir Rob. 
You're a little too rash in that sir; I am none.  Capt. 
And, what, are you sir?  Rash. 
Why sir,— I am,— a Citizen, and a Mercer.  Capt. 
A Citizen, and a Mercer,— Cheapside?  Sir Rob. 
No Captain;— but he's perfect in his Pater noster.  Capt. 
One of that row?— I know't sir.  Sir Rob. 
Not very far from it:— In Creed sir.  Capt. 
Does he believe? that's seldom found in a Broker.  Rash. 
How sir,— a Broker?  Capt. 
I know you by this wheel.— you have a great many Bags, and a great many buildings to sir.— But, dare you for all that, presume in the way of matrimony, to look so high as a Lady?  Rash 
He that can purchase a Lordship—  Capt. 
Thinks, he may purchase a ladyship:— you my rival? Can you fight sir?  Rash. 
It may be I, it may be no sir.  Cap. 

Then I'll try, whether you can or no sir. Kicks him and thrust him out.  
Not a word, as you love your Coxcomb●….   Sir Rob. 

Nay, let him alone; let him alone, I beseech you,  
For hitherto he has done but Justice.   Capt. 
Are you a suitor too sir?  Plu. 
Too sir?  Capt. 
You're an ass sir:— Can you fight?  Plu. 
Fight? in a Lady's chamber?  Capt. 
Why, where would you fight sir?  Plu. 
Why, the truth on't is;— I would— fight,— nowhere.  Capt. 
Why, I thought as much;— and therefore,— I will kick you— anywhere; good master outside of a Gentleman; follow your valiant Leader.  O. Gen. 
You will not kill him, will you?  Kick him out. Capt. 
Ha' you so much Tongue, and ne'er a good Tooth, Madam Fumble!  O. Gen. 
Fumble, fumble!— you're a most—  Sir Rob. 
Peace, an you love your old carcase,— peace.  La Mose. 
You bind me to a patience—  Sir Rob. 

Nay, good Sister:— He does you a great deal a right,  
And saves me a great deal of labour.  
For I should have done't, if he had not.   Capt. 
One post support another?— What are you sir?  Greg. 
Why,— I am— a Gentleman.—  Capt. 
Will your arms bear you out in the Title?  Greg. 
My Legs, shall bear me out sir.  Capt. 
Then— you won't be beat out— as they were?  Greg. 
— Beat, I should be very loath to be beaten?  Capt. 
— good truth, I think you would sir.  Greg. 
Do I look like one that would be beaten?  Capt. 
An you stay, you must.  Greg. 
Why therefore,— I mean,— to be gone sir.— But— If my father,— would but die once.—  Kick him out. La Mos. 

You see his rudeness:— to prevent the danger,  
It threatens, and may execute,— pray leave us.   Sir Oli. 

I will not add to his too prodigal heat.  
Nor be so cold to fear it.   La. Mos. 
'Tis my Love—  Sir Oli. 

And mine to tarry,— not offending you  
I'th' humble contradiction.   Cap. 
Are these your suiters Lady?  La. Mal. 
A little in jest;— but you ha' paid 'em in earnest.  O. Gen. 
I did but speak, in the way of compassion & pity,— and your Lordship called me,— Madam fumble, fumble, fumble▪  
Did I ever fumble wo'you sir?  Capt 

Be wise in being silent,  
I hear you have lost a Husb●…nd:— How is't Widow?   O. Gent. 
You'll quarrel with her too, will you?  Capt. 

You are so nice:  
I cannot compliment, kiss your white hand,  
And fleare upon ●…ou.— I can kiss thy lip.  
Hug thee, and tell thee, I must lie with thee.   La. Mos. 

There may be those of your acquaintance Captain,  
To whom this language would be music:— But  
To let you know how illed appears to me,  
I'll change my room sir.   Capt. 
But you shall not Madam.  Sir Oli. 

You lay too rude a violence, upon  
The tenderness of Ladies.   Capt. 

Do I so sir?  
I thank your kind remembrance,— you the man?  
This Lady's only man sir?   Sir Oli. 
My desire's,— you would not be uncivil.  Capt. 

What so ere  
My will produces, I shall justify.   Sir Oli. 

That power maintains offence, is weakness sir,  
And has no taste of breeding, or of manhood.   Capt. 
I'll make you taste of something.  Sir Rob. 

But you sha'not Enter Mr. William, & Cutt.  
Have we no servants near us?   La. Mos. 
Save him, help.  O. Gent. 
O, you're a wicked captain.  Cutt. 
What? naked weapons in a Lady's chamber?  Sir Ro. 

Take her in,— poor Lady, Exit La. Mosley.  
How she's frighted?   Enter 〈◊〉. Hugh. 
My Noble Knight and Master.  Sir Oli. 
We have done sir.  Hu. 
An you ha' done, there's nothing to do;— If nothing to do,— the less to care for;— the less to care for,— the ●…ounder we sleep:— and asleep, we think no hurt sir.— And so— having done, I have done.  Exit. Capt. 
You have the advantage of me.  Sir Oli. 

I must tell you,  
This rudeness, better would become the field  
Then such a place as this.   Capt. 

That you may know,  
I know as much, as you instruct me to,  
Meet me to morrow.— You conceive me.   Sir Oli. 
Where?  Capt. 

Where?— as yourself have most discreetly said,  
My valour would show better:— in the field sir.   Sir Oli. 

I understand you;— understand withal,  
A life, a thing too precious, to be put  
On such a desperate hazard.   Cap. 
Desperate hazard?  Sir Oli. 

You have not moved me to that heat, shall give you  
One misbeseeming syllable:— much less  
Provoke, to what you urge.   Capt. 
You won't?  Sir Oli. 
No.  Capt. 
As good ha' said you dare not.  Sir Oli. 
Dare not?— What?  Capt. 
Not be a man.  Sir Oli. 

You better might ha' said  
I dare not, dare my Maker;— and unmake  
Myself, or you rash captain,— it may be both;  
'Tis to be thought on, if we meet.   Capt. 

It is  
Pretty apology; All Cowards, use it.   Sir Oli. 
How, Cowards?  Capt. 
Coward.  Sir Oli. 

How his lunacy  
Has shot itself into my Blood?— a Coward!  
Proclaim me, what you call me, if I be   Capt. 
You'll meet me then?  Sir Oli. 
I will.  Capt. 
Where thou, or I.  Sir Oli. 

Nay,— if you break so violently out Here Sir Robert Malory and his Lady return. Embraces between them.  
I shall suspect, it is to prevent our meeting:  
For Manhood covers such intents as these  
Under a friendly seeming:— thus.—   Capt. 
Enough.  Sir Rob. 
I marry Gentlemen, I like this close.  La. Mal. 
Believe me, I was jealous of worse matters.  Sir Ro 
And I, ne'er trust me else.  Capt. 
Of what, Sir Robert?  Sir Rob. 
I thought you had made some quarrel.  Sir Oli. 
Quarrel? no— this is no quarrelling Posture.  La. Mal. 
Nay, nay, Gentlemen; so fight and spare not.  Sir Ro. 
I'll so fight and spare not.  Capt. 
You know the place, and time sir.  Enter Cut, & whisper with his Lady. Sir Oli 
You shall find I'll forget neither.  Capt. 
You see my length.  Sir Oli. 
Which I shall equal.  Capt. 
So.—  

Now, Beauteous widow:— Is she gone?  
I have no Courtship to pursue her with,  
Nor will I offer it:— but, Let me tell you,  
He that best hopes her Favour, if he have it;  
He must bid fairer for it then this sword,  
And so I leave you.   Exit. La. Mal: 
A good riddance of you  Sir Rob. 
How is it sir?— your eye speaks trouble still.  Sir Oli: 

Sir, if it do, 'tis only what it has,  
From your fair sister's trouble,— I must leave you  
Till better hours invite me to return,  
My Love and service to you.   Sir Rob. 

Nay sir Oliver,  
Our ways,— a Little way, lie both together;  
And so far, we'll be so   Ex. the two Knights. L. Mal: 

is't possible?  
Be sure, you raise not this suspicion si●…  
From your own fancy, look the ground be good;  
The matter's weighty;— look it be, you're best.   Cut: 

I tell you, but the voice in Edmonton.— which is  
That Mistress Margaret, is his modicum.  
His sweetmeat;▪ his recreation; and the only Instrument,  
He loves to play upon.   L. Mall: 
Indeed sir Robert?  Cut. 

Whether she, like wax  
Have ta'en th' impression of his seal, or no,  
I know not   Lady. 

That he is often at her father's house  
That he allows his poverty some means:  
That he maintains the wench, as one that sometimes  
His charity, had taken to protection  
I am not ignorant:— Nor has it been  
More than has gone with my Consent, and passed  
Without suspicion of the smallest spark  
Of Lust in old sir Robert.   Cut. 
Nay I know not  Lad. 

I will not to be too easy, to believe,  
Nor yet too confident. I know there's fire  
In such a wench's eye;— and old dry wood  
Will soon be kindled:— If I find h●… be,  
I'll find a way to cool him: coole'em both Exeunt  
We'll all, or nothing, for half shares we Loath.    

Act. 3.  Enter Thrashard, with a Letter: Margaret, Gillian, and Abr'am. Thra. 
sir Robert's hand?— art sure on't?  Mar. 
I am too sure,  Thra. 
And sent to thee last night?  Gill. 

Ay, by this day, was it father▪— I know't to be his hand  
What do you think o' this now?   Thra. 
I know not what to think.  Mar. 

You see the picture of a lustful heart  
Drawn to the life;— and with it, what a number  
Of foul temptations, he has mustered up,  
To dim, the star-like purity of mine:  
But all, no more, against my constancy,  
Then storms of hail, against a tower;— or waves  
Against a rock, that beating are beat bacl  
As they begin t'assail 'em.   Thra. 
I believe thee▪— y●…t old sir Robert.  Gill. 

Yes, even old sir Robert. Enter the Lad. Mallory as a poor woman.  
Who have we here? a beggar?   Abra. 

An she desire any thing here,  
I'll desire her to be gone, with a vengeance.  
Who would you speak withal?— Hum.   Lady. 
A poor old woman; be not offended sir.  Abr. 
And what would'●…t thou have, poor old woman?  Lady. 
My business, is to you.  Mar. 
To me? what is't.  Lady. 
I would delivered to yourself  Mar. 

Myself?  
What ere it be, do not fear to speak it,  
I cannot fear to hear it.   Thra. 
What is't woman?  Lady. 

Indeed my charge is Mistress, to deliver't  
To your own hearing.   Thar. 
This is strange.  Gill. 
— what is it?  Lady. 

Though I may speak it; since you fall into  
Causeless suspicions of me— either hear me,  
As I am willing to present it to you,  
Or— as I am, I'll leave you.   Gill. 
Leave us?— Hoydeye— Marry come up goody tatters▪  Thr. 
Your tongue must still be running.— hark you woman.  Lad. 
I must be brief.  Abr. 
You are very tedious me thinks.  Thr. 

Take your own course we'll leave you.— Nay, nay, come.  
We shall know all anon.— thou'dst fain be scolding.  
On, or I'll set you forward.   Ext. Thrash, Gill, Abra. Mar. 
Now to this private business: what is it?  Lad. 

That happiness that to a beauty, set  
In a degree, no fairer than your own  
Should be exceeding welcome.   Mar. 
Ha, What is't?  Lad. 

I bring you love: and to assure you 'tis  
A love that's worth, the entertain it seeks  
And fit to find repose upon the heart  
Of such a matchless beauty▪ as your own, ( Caskinet)  
Have brought this witness.— 'tis a fair one.   Mar. 
'tis— If no foul end attend it.  Lad. 

come, be wise:  
What my poor artless tongue shall fail in, let  
This never failing orator supply,  
And with his golden tongue, inform you,( Fair one)  
That he that sends it,— for the End he seeks,  
Shall tender to you, whatsoever can fall  
Within the compass, of your wish.   Mar. 
Good heaven!  Lad. 

A lusty offer for that short delight  
The gentleman would purchase.   Mar. 
'Tis indeed; a very bounteous offer.  Lad. 
Take it then.  Mar. 
You have not named the sender.  Lad. 
'Tis, sir Robert.  Mar. 
Sir Robert Mallory!  Lad, 

That Gentleman.  
I might renew your memory  
His bounties to your Father:— and, that bounty  
Not dealt by fits,— leaving between his doles,  
Interims of want, and anguish; but the whole,  
And total stock he lives on.— I might too,  
Since you so much forg●…tt yourself—   Marg. 

I do not:  
Indeed, I do not; gratitude, ne'er kept,  
A ●…ruer Register of benefits  
Than you may find within this bosom   Lad. 
No?— come then express it; make't appear,  Mar. 
In what?  Lad. 
Nay, an you mince it so.— you know my mind! He loves you fair one.  Mar. 
Are you sure he does?  Lad. 

Against so large a testimony of it,  
As that you have received, and this is,( Fair one)  
How can you make that question?   Mar. 

Do his years,  
Equal the number, of my years?— does his  
Estate, and mine, lie level? wears sir Robert,  
The snow-white livery, of a single life  
Vnsoild, as I do?— can his heart, and mine,  
With heaven's applause be made, one heart?— partake  
( As hearts, divinly brought together, do)  
One happiness, one sorrow?— can the hand  
Of any man, under yond golden roof  
Untie a nuptial gordian?— lose the knot  
Has tied the souls, of him, and his chaste lady  
So fast together?— make but this appear,  
And I'll believe thee:— I'll then say, the heat  
Hi●… bosom carries, is a Holy fire:  
A flame, as pure a●… those, are sent to heaven,  
From our Religious Altars.— But till then,  
Let him desist, to robe so foul a sin  
In so divine a garment.— Love?— 'tis lust,  
A sulphurous flame; which, tell him, I shall shu●…,  
As those dark flames beneath us.   Lad. 

Has he this  
For all the cost, that for thy beauty's sake  
He has bestowed upon thee?   Mar. 

Help me goodness,  
I thought it had been for heaven sake?— That some angel  
Had led his Bounty;— that it had been done  
To make his own soul white,— and not to make  
My white soul black, and ugly.   Lad. 
Look upon't;— 'tis a rich prize.  Mar. 

'Tis;— yet as much too poor,  
Were't ten times trebled, to effect his wish,  
As Bribe an angel to impurity?  
So bear them bacl again,— and tell thy Master,  
( The lustful Knight that sent thee) when we rate  
Our chastity, above our life, we won't  
Sel't, for such toys as those are.   Lady. 
How?— such toys?— are gold and jewels counted toys?  Mar. 
Compared— with that rich jewel he'd have for 'em.  Lad. 
So.  Mar. 
Might the exchange pass currant.  Lad. 

Be advised;  
I dare be bold to tell— you,— in this Act,  
You do not only lose this golden offer,  
With' Fruitfulness, that you enjoy already,  
●…'th' shine of his rich favours,— but, you sink  
Into that misery, that to the living  
Is, as the Grave is to the Dead: A depth,  
No beam of Fortune looks on; for his ●…rowne,  
deads' all your happiness.   Mar. 

Yet more vexation.  
I will not call thee woman; for a woman  
Could never labour thus, to infect the Name  
With such a sin as this is.   Lad. 
Beauteous Maid.  Mar. 

Fowl, and detested Hag, canst breathe upon me  
Those golden epithets, and with' same breath  
Endeavour thus to blast it— Father, Sister,  
For heaven's sake help me:— Father, Brother, Sister.   Enter Father, Brother, Sister. Thr. 
How now girl?— why what's the matter?— ha?  Mar. 

Examine her.  
But she perchance, may tell you, what she does  
Is but her duty;—' may be tell you too,  
'Tis not so much her duty to the great one  
That has employed her, as our love to us.  
Her pity to our poverty;— and that  
To make our poor and barren fortunes fruitful.  
She comes, to water't with a golden shower. Nay, she can do it.   All. 
A golden shower!  Abra. 

O rare!— and thou canst do that old woman,  
Long Mayest thou reign, I beseech it.   Kneel. Mar. 
Thus, she may tell you father,— but,— I can tell you that she is—  Thra. 
What is she?  Mar. 
A bawd.  All. 
A bawd!  Mar. 

Nay, though the brow of such a one be brass,  
She dares not contradict it:— she's no less,  
And her employment from Sir Robert.   Thra. 
How?— Come, come, take heed.  Gill. 

And what should she take heed of?— an she be a bawd,  
She is a bawd.   Abra. 

That's certain,  
Were her Bawdship employed among Ladies,  
But, she shall ride in Triumph▪   Thra. 

Such gravity, and such a reverend show,  
Guild such a sin as this is?   Thra. & Marg. whisper. Abr. 
A Bawd?— Now Tobacco, and Aquavitae burn thee.  Gill. 
Now the stinking sweat upon thee, & thy painted journey-women.  Abr. 

How many Noses do you think ha' been lost  
In your bawdships' service?   Gill. 
How many Coaches have you Bawdified?  Abr. 

How long ha'you run on in this sin?— the Coachman wo'you,  
And the horses been whipped, for your pleasure?   Thra. 

was this Sir Robert's bounty?— I am poor,  
And poorer must be; for his frown commands,  
All that I have to nothing,— But this sore  
Shall not be cured with such a sin.— B●…se woman;  
But we'll reward your labour,— shall we not?   Gill. 
You lose a daughter o'me else.  Abr. 
And an Abra'm o'me, I can tell you.  Thr. 
I'll go get ●…n Officer; Abram, provide a Cart.  Gill. 
And let me alone for a basin.  Exit Thra: Gill. Abr. Lad. 
Has Love and Bounty this reward?  Mar. 

Such Love,  
And such a Bounty, and the best it merits.   Lad. 
These be good Angels, I can tell you.— look,  Mar. 

Thy Angels are all Devils;— and such gold,  
But golden Fetters,— In whose powerful tie,  
Rather than I'll lie Captivated, bound  
To th' hot embraces of a lustful man,  
I'll suffer any wretchedness.— Away,  
Thou art a devil, like a woman.—   Lad. 

Thou— an angel-like a Woman.  
Now I have found thy goodness, know me better.   ( Discover.) Mar. 
My ever-worthy Lady.  Lad. 

Come, no more.  
Thou seeest the purpose of that poor disguise.  
Now beauteous maid, fear nothing:— thou shalt flourish,  
And the more Spring, the more his angry storm  
Shall beat against thee.— Here.— Nay you must take it:  
That, seemed to be the hire of lust, shall now  
Be the reward of virtue.— But, you must  
employed as I direct you.   Mar. 

But direct.— If I shall fail in any thing enjoined,  
Let your displeasures( my worst enemy)  
Punish the fault, severely.   Lad. 

This is all:  
Against my Husbands coming,— as I'm sure  
He will not long be from thee,— I would have thee,  
With this,— and more, that I'll supply thee with,  
Deck up this homely Cottage;— and withal  
Add to this Beauty beauteous trimings, such  
As beautify Court beauties.   Mar. 
How?  Lad. 

Nay Margaret,  
If you shall stop, at my fair purpose now,  
I shall suspect your goodness,— 'tis my pleasure.   Mar. 
It must then be mine to serve it.  Lad. 

Prithee do,  
I'll have thee brave indeed! How Brave, conceive  
From these directions:— think thyself at least,  
The heir of old Sir Robert;— nay, above it;  
The heir of one, owes greater Title;— and  
To such a greatness suit thee.— Then— Attend me,  
They are returned already:— the remains—  
Receive in private.   Enter Thrashard, Gill, Abra'm, Constable, Whip and basin. Thra. 
I have told you, what she is master Constable.  Gill. 
A bawd.  Abra. 

All over,— we'll not bate you an inch Mr. Constable,  
And therefore have a care you do justice.   Con. 

I have been among bawds before now, and whores too:  
And I think, I have tickled 'em soundly.   Abra. 

I think so, a Constable?  
What whore dares deny him entrance?   Con. 
For what belongs to this staff— Let me alone.  Abra. 
Let me alone for the Cart.  Gill. 
And me alone for the basin.  ( Tinke, tinke, tinke.) Con. 
Come, where's this same bawd here? where is she?  Thra. 
My worthy lady.  Gill. 
My most worthy lady!  Abr. 
Come, where's this bawd here?— my most worthy Land-Lady!  Con. 

What have I to do will Ladies?— 'tis the bawd  
That my authority is to cope withal.   Mar. 

The outside, made this virtue seem that sin  
Lies there that garment.   All. 
How? that garment,  Mar. 
Virtuous  All. 
most virtuous Lady!  Abr. 

Constable, you may make a hobby-horse, o' your painted staff, and  
Ride home again.— whip, lie thou there,  
And what say you, to your basin?   Gill. 

I say, ti's a base one, and the barbarly knave that owes it,  
They say his wife had a tooth drawn above, while he was a  
Trimming below▪ let him keep it for her now, an he will  
For we have nothing to do with it.   Lad. 

Time's earnest with me, to be gone:— farewell:  
You know my mind, perform it.—   ( exit) Mar. 
With that care— I labour, my best happiness.  Thra. 
Good Lady— well well sir Robert  Mar. 

he's a naughty man.  
I am enjoined a task; and to effect it,  
Look, she has given us all this gold.   All. 
this Gold!  Mar. 

This is that golden shower I told you off:  
But falls to better purpose, then, I then  
Imagined, father.— how to be employed,  
Lies yet within this bosom:— but ere long,  
The virtuous secret, here involved I'll show.  
From such pure fountains, such pure rivers flow   ( Exeunt:) Enter Barbara, as her Lady; Mr. William bare, Arming her in. Bar. 

Heigho! good truth this little practice of my Lady  
To stand between her, and her foolish suitors  
So to prevent their fopperies, has lulled me  
Into so sweet a fancy!— Mr. William  
If all the time I have been thus accoutred  
I have not thought myself a very Lady,  
I would I were, a very—   M. W. 
Maid again:— wouldst thou not Bab?  Bab. 
Well,— an I be not, I may thank you for it.  M. W. 

What, thank me for't and cry? come come conceal't  
A little longer, and I'll warrant thee▪  
we'll find thee out, a daddy.   Bab. 
Look you do.  M. W. 

Rash, Plush, Gregory! what sayest thou to a Citizen?  
Then thou hast 2. strings to thy bow.   Bab. 
Two strings to my bow.— what do you mean by that ●…roe?  M. W. 
Why 2. trades Bab, two Trades.  Bab. 
Why what trade, have I, I pray sir?  M. W. 

Why, the old trade.— thy husband's custom will get thee  
Custom; and thine, thy husband, so one helps another,  
And then, there's some hope of thryving.— Let me see 1. 2. 3.  
After so many falls this is thy third time of rising  
A great piece o' matter, is't not?— Come, thou shalt cry,  
What lack you, show thy ware, Cu●… Privilegio; and  
Befriend, thy friend, in a corner Enter Gregory.  
Body of me, one, of the fops already  
Come to your state, and off.   ( Arm her off) and retturne.) Greg. 

Mr. William, hist do you hear. I have the worst luck  
At women. But I'll to her.   Mr Wi. 
What Mr. Gregory!  Greg. 

The very same sir.— your Lady's new gone in  
May a man, be so bold, as go see her?   Mr Wi 

Faith, not yet.  
But, there's hope, you may see her anon sir,   Greg. 

I had a glimpse of her:— I cannot tell well  
An my father, would but die once!   M. W. 
I marry M. Gregory, his passing bell were music.  Ent Plush. Gr. 
The man should ring it, should not sweat for nothing.  Plu 

A happ●…e day Mr. William: and as much( though my rival)  
To the sweet, Mr. Gregory Dwindle.   Greg. 
Thanks, sweet, Mr. Timothy Lyning  Plush. 
how's that sir?— lining!  Mr. Wi. 
A conceit he has, witness your worships cloak sir  Plu. 

'Tis lined with plush indeed:  
But may line a Lady's petticoat,  
When such a simple Gregory as thou Dwindle.  
Shall Dwindle,— but— to hear on't.   Greg. 
The diwindle in disgrace.  Plu. 
Tell me of lining!  M. V. 

Why Gentlemen, you come to see my Lady;  
Which if you kill one another,  
You'll hardly do, believe me.   Greg. 

You have said very right, Mr. William.—  
Had it not been for that ( Put up.)  
You have spoke to the point Mr. William  
Had it, not been for that!—   ( Put up.) Mr. W. 

A terrible bout, believe me.—  
Nay I knew my hat would part'em.  
You are valiant Mr. Plush; and you Mr. Gregory Dwindle   Greg. 
Well;— an— my father, would, but by once!  Ent. Rash Rash. 

Gentlemen all,— good day.  
May we not, In, to the Lady?   Mr. W. 
In to the Lady?— you are somewhat to rash indeed sir.  Rash. 
Enter the house I mean sir▪  Mr. W. 

She is now, going forth sir:— the truth is— to dinner  
But here into the next street, to her brother, sir Robert Maloryes.  
What favours, she may bestow, as she passes, I know not,—  
But— be not too tedious, I beseech you,—  
I am to attend her thither.   Exit. Rash. 
Well, this melancholy Lady, is a hard piece o' matter to compass  Plu. 
Somewhat, straight laced Mr. Rash.  Greg▪ 

An I could but come, to unlace her! I should make her.  
Forget, her mourning.   Rash. 

We all, aim, at one mark;—  
Which only, one must hyt— I hope well▪   Plu. 
An I hope, as well, as you sir.  Enter Mr. William, Barbary as before Greg. 
And I, as well as you sir.  Rash. 
Then happy man, by his dole sir.  Greg. 
Well, an my father, would but die once!  Mr. W. 

Have a care, you know my directions.  
But, one at once, I beseech you— ( Plush and Bab whisper)  
Mr. Plush has the start of you Gentlemen.   ( she shakes the head) Rash. 
We cannot help it, worthy Mr. William.  Greg. 

Hope well, and have well.—  
The motto of mine arms, if ever I live, to  
Be Knighted— which, If, my father,— would but die once.   Mr. W. 
You would be a Knight in foolio.  Greg. 
She shakes her head;— What does she mean by that?  Mr. W. 

To hear him talk, so like, a humorous coxcomb!  
She has shaken him off, already.   Greg. 
I'll try my entertainment  ( Greg. whispers with her) Mr. W. 
Do▪ sir,— to her.  she smiles. Rash. 
Well, I shall have my turn, I hope anon▪  Mr. W. 
'Twere a very ill turn, an you should not.  Rash. 
No, there's the man;— see how she smiles upon him!  Mr W. 

No, h●…res the man;—  
See how she points, at you sir.   ( she points at Rash.) Rash 
She points at me indeed: but oh those smiles!  Mr. W. 

That smiles a laugh;—  
A scorn, a mere derision. Rash whispers with her; her hand after at her breast  
Do you note his coming off sir.— To her, to her.  
None sir, what news?   Plu 
Nay I say nothing;— what,— it was— it was.  Mr. W. 
And what say you sir?  Greg. 
What, she said,— she said.  Mr. W. 
To please you sir, I would she had sung it.  Plush. 

That clapping of her hand, upon her breast, I do not like:—  
She has given Me good words; but— that's a tough bit,—  
On my stomach.   Mr. W. 

●…'ll help you down with that;— her words, were these  
It is very true; you are, a civil gentleman.  
And one, above the fortunes, that you seek:  
I must protest you are sir.— but when the heart is promised, and the  
Aff●…ctions, formerly settled, there's no calling back.— These were  
Her words believe me▪—  
Did she not shake her head as who should say,  
You are the man, must have her?   Plu. 
'Tis enough.  Mr. Wi. 
You are musted up in melancholy to sir—  Greg. 

She gave me comfortable words;— but that embrace,  
And thus, her hand, meeting her heart so oft  
Moves m●…, a little.   Mr. W. 

Then, you'll be moved with nothing.  
I'll tell you, what she said; beseech you mark me, Sir— you are  
A good man; a Citizen;— Rich,— and wise— though— these three  
Go seldom together;—  
But,— when they do— 'tis an alderman's pace,—  
I assure you— Sometimes in a Livery gown; but— that's but—  
On festival days.— The May den-head,— is your aims,—  
In your Arms,— believe me, I wish one, for— my widowhood is  
Otherwise promised.— These were her words;—  
You are the man must have her— Did she smile upon you?   Greg. 
that she did.  Mr. W. 

Why, why, should you be moved then? Look, he's off,  
She beckons one of you.   Plu. 
Me, me, I hope, and I'll to her.  Greg. 
You shall not go alone sir  Both go to her and whisper. Mr. W. 
Now, What's the happiness?  Rash. 
My happiness— but, what she said;— she said.  Mr. W. 
You have had, a long; and a very gracious hearing.  Rash. 

I have I ●…hanke her;—  
A very gracious ●…earing, Ha?— ( she laughs.)  
Why, does she laugh so loud? ti's not at me, I hope   Mr. W. 

At you?— at them.— laugh, at a civil citizen?  
I could tell, what she says for a need sir   Rash. 
I should be glad to hear it:  Mr. W. 
Then, I will make you glad sir.— beseech you mark me▪  Mr. Plush, 

You are a proper gentleman;—  
Smooth, and soft,— you have not,  
Your name, for nothing.— I have heard,—  
You are vallian●…; fear no man,  
But— the m●…n, that frights, any man, that— villainous thing, cald-a  
Sergeant, yet you have made some of them,  
Run too, two or three at once  
Sometimes, and glad, they ●…ould overtake you.   Rash. 
This was a jeer worth laughing at indeed  Mr. W. 

Now for Mr. Gregory,— the country Gentleman.  
( Good harmless thing) little or nothing to him,—  
Only tells him, his father's old trunks  
With a codpiece;— and his breech, were not both, of a piece:  
That hardly worth hal●… a piece;— this almost, worth half a peck   Rash. 
A half peck, you mean, Mr. William  Mr. W. 

A bushel of wit believe me.▪ I ha told you, what she( Laughed at:)  
You are the man, must have her.   Rash. 
I hope I shall.  M. W. 

Did she not point upon you thus.( making horns)— They fall off, she beckons Mr. William, whisper.  
My Lady beckons me.— your pleasure, madam.   Plush. 

I cannot tell;— If shaking of the head;  
And serious shaking of the head, may be  
A gracious sign of love;— I am the man.   Greg. 

O smile;— sweet smile— full of splendidious rays;  
Such,— as the Sun, at dinner time displays— If I do not tickle her.  
In figure,— Let— me be counted a Cipher.  
Well,— an my father would but die once;—  
I am the man must have her.   Rash. 

But— o that Hand,— her hand so white and soft,  
In sweet Protests,— thus— kissed her breast, so oft,  
I could compose me thinks!— the sweetest!— Well,  
I am the man must have her.   Mr. W. 

Your will shall be instantly done, sweet Lady.—  
Gentlemen— 'tis my Lady's pleasure, you leave her at this time:—  
Nay, nay, keep off I besecch you.— Mr. Plush,—  
You are the man:— away.   Plu. 
Most beauteous Lady.—  ( Exit.) Mr. W. 

Mr. Gregory,▪ I have sent him off, with a flea in his ear●…  
My Lady, is your Lady,— go.   Greg. 

Well,— an my father would but die once,— then  
Farewell, most Beauteous Lady.   ( Exit.) Mr. W. 
Mr. Rash▪— I have given him a Box, to put his pepper in.  
You are the m●…n shall have her.  Rash. 
In good deed sir?  Mr. W. 
You'd hear as much from my Lady?  Rash. 
O▪ ●…ight I be so happy.  Mr. W. 

Why, you shall sir;  
I have told the Gentleman, your mind, sweet Lady,  
And he's delighted with it:— But, to hear  
Your love delivered, by your own sweet lip  
would make his light heart caper.   Bab. 

Master Rash,  
Though it scarce suit with modesty,— my blush—  
Veiled with this mourning habit, take your wish,  
You are the man shall have me.   Rash. 
May I build—  M. W. 
With Brick, according to the Statute sir.  Rash. 
I mean upon this promise.  M. W. 

O, you mean  
Upon the Lady sir: you hear you may,  
The foundation is laid to your hands,  
And the edifice half up already.   Rash. 
With this, I take my leave.—  ( Exit) Enter Cutt bloody. Bab. 
Dear Master Rash.  M. W. 

You'll make a rash bargain of this sir:  
Who have we here?— Rawhead and Bloody-bones?  
Good madam Bab, walk off,— what master Cutt!   ( Exit Bab) Cutt. 

I am Cut:— but do not you play upon my cut,  
Lest I play upon— your pate, and cut you, as deep sir.   M W. 
What me?— your friends?  Cut. 
No matter, whether you be or no sir: Ne Hercules contra duos.  M. W. 
Had you two upon you at once sir?  Cutt. 

An there were ten upon me at once,—  
I did not desire you to help me.   M▪ W. 
I was not there to help thee.  Cutt. 

A pox o'your prating sheehead;—  
I tell you, I did not desire it.   M. W. 
Nay,— prithee Cutt be patient.  Cutt. 

I may choose whether I will or no sir:—  
Six,— like six o' the constable's guard,  
That a man may beat with a broomstaff,— yet  
For three p●…nce a night they venture.   Enter Hugh hastily. Mar. W 
What, Sir Oliver's Hugh?— in haste.  Husband 

N●… great haste, for in haste, we run:— An we run, we may fall  
An we f●…ll, we may catch a hurt;—  
An ●…a ●…rt will not easily be healed.   Cutt. 
An you talk o' mine; you're coxcomb.  Mr. W 
Nay, I prithee Hugh say nothing.  Hu. 

〈◊〉 a man say, and say nothing?— on nothing, comes nothing,  
And he that out of nothing, can get something, does something,  
More than I can.   Cutt. 
You do not, something, nothing me sir: do you?  M. W. 
Nay, here's no place▪ to quarrel.  Hu. 

An we quarrel, we must draw,— an we draw  
We must strike; an we strike,— we shall cut; an we cut, we  
Shall bleed; an we bleed, we must to the Surgeons.   Cut. 

An you p●…te, I shall knock;— an I knock,  
You must cry;— and you cry, I must kick;— An I kick—   Hu. 

I shall kick you again sir,—  
If I kick you age●…,— you shall feel it;  
If you feel't,▪ you have as good as you bring;  
If you have as good as you  
bring,— why th●…n sir, I owe you nothing;  
And so master Cu●…bert have at you.   M. W. 
Death, are you madmen? hold, hold, hold, I say.—  
Prithee put up.  Hu. 
While he may put up in my belly.  Cut. 

He that does so is a Coward;— He that's a coward's a rogue,  
And he that's a Rogue must be whipped;—  
And would I might be whipped an I do so.   Hu. 
Give me thy hand; thou'rt a man▪  Cut. 

He, that says I am not a man,— I may chance.  
To make him, a boy sir.   M. W. 

A couple of touchy coxcombs. But come, this sign,  
Of the Hand in Hand is handsome— Gentlemen,  
I have a pretty Project in my pate,  
Will you assist me in it?   Hu. Cut. 
Name it.  Mr. W. 
Hark,— no more but so:— your Hands.  Both. 
And our hearts to boot, Master William.  Mr. W. 

Nay, there's no parting yet,— At buttery-hatch,  
In Boules,— thus deep,— we'll health it to the Match.    

Act. 4.  Enter Sir Oliver, and the captain, as in the field. Capt. 

Now Knight, I see, you love a Noble promise  
Too well, to break it:— you're a Gentleman.   Sir Oli. 

Sir, should I find, that I had lost myself  
In any Thing, that should proclaim me less,  
I should not hate mine enemy so much,  
As such a heady Action.   Capt. 
I am ready.  Sir Oli. 

I see you are: But ere our weapons meet,  
Tell me, what seconds have you Captain●…?   Capt. 
Seconds?— A strange demand.— How mean you?  Sir Oli. 

Why a man,  
That may assist you if you fail.   Capt. 
A Second?— were any such appointed?— I have none.  Sir Oli. 
How captain?— None.  Capt. 
I have not sir: have you?  Sir Oli. 

Believe't, I have;— I should not else have met  
So great a danger Mullynex.   Capt. 

A Second!  
Is this the nobleness you Boast?— A Knight!  
A servile footboy,— his master ere  
Give but one copy of a noble soul  
Would have disdained this cowardice— a second▪   Sir Oli. 

Nay you may term it, what you please:— no matter,  
'Tis my advantage captain   Capt. 
Ha? where is he  Sir Oli 

You may as well demand of more, than one  
For I have more, stout captain.   Capt. 
More?  Sir Oli 

Yes more.  
To keep, what lost can ne'er be found again,  
We cannot be too Cautelous   Cap. 

A man?  
Ensnare me thus?: where be they? If they be  
As base as thou art, be they ten to one  
I shall not fear the incoun●…er.   Sir Oli. 

Think you so sir?  
A minute's patience I shall name 'em to you.  
And let you see your danger.   Capt. 
Name 'em.  Sir Oli. 

Yes,  
The first bold Second, that attends my Sword,  
Is thine own Rash, and inconsiderate fury;  
For than that foe within a man,— without  
We cannot meet that enemy, that can  
Present us with more danger: There's the first,  
The next my undertaking, in defence  
Of such a stock of goodness in that Ladŷ,  
As Envy, ne'er durst look on: which who knows not,  
So fair, and just, the ever-watchful eye,  
That midnight Actions are apparent to  
Cannot but see, nor that great Ens behold,  
But be assistant to't;— A third( Rash man)  
The contumelious, and un▪ manly darings,  
That, to enforce me from the peacefulness,  
Ere lived in my calm bosom, you have most  
Uncivilly cast upon me,— smilest thou?   Capt. 
Yes.— Are these your Seconds?  Sir Oly. 

Mullinex they are.  
Dar'st thou unarmed?— Indeed a naked man▪  
( For he that fights in such a Cause as thine,  
With nothing in't, but an impetuous will,  
Is little better—) venture all thy blood  
'gainst such a great Advantage?   Capt. 

What I dare,  
My Sword shall tell thee Bellingham.   ( Thrust.) Sir Oli. 

So sudden? ( Passes, Bellingham▪ only puts by.)  
You see, till now my weapon has been used  
Merely defensively;— To guard myself;  
Nor point, nor edge, offering their violence  
Against thy bosom.— Were I sure, I could  
Put by thy fury, till it has spent itself,  
Or tired thy body past the danger of it,  
The Fighting part should only be thine own:  
Mine only, mine own Buckler.   Capt. 

Slighted?— death  
I'll put your Fence-play to't a little better.   Sir Oli. 
I must not dally then▪  ( Fight.) Capt. 
Come Bellingham.  Sir Oli. 
Hold captain, hold,— you bleed.  Capt. 

As you must do,  
Or all my blood's at hazard— Have I touched you?   Sir Oliv. 

You have stout captain,  
Shall we part upon the equality of our hurts?   Capt. 
How, part sir?  Sir Oli. 

Yes, our manhoods, standing in this equal point,  
We may do't fairly; slight applyments yet  
May make us whole again.   Capt. 
Shall a scratch part us?  Sir Oli. 
How fatal sir another close may be— we know not,  Capt. 

No, nor do we fear it: Come  
Then Mullynex, what following hurts you have,  
Call not the work of my unwilling hands,  
But thine own frenzy:— witness heaven they are— ( Fight.)  
Captain you faint.   Capt. 
Take your advantage then.  Sir Oli. 
Advantage sir, How mean you?  Capt. 

Of my wound:  
My weakness Bellingham,— you see there's now,  
No interposed resistance, between my heart ( Throws off his weapon)  
And thy bold weapon— Come.   Sir Oli. 

I rather wish  
That all thy blood were in thy veins again:  
Had all the fire, and livelihood it had,  
Though with that strength, new courage, and the malice  
That but two minutes past, pursued my life,  
You should again pursued, and put it to  
Another dangerous hazard.   Capt. 

Thou Mayest wish it;  
For it were no hazard, against the muniment,  
And strong defences that Heaven plants about,  
A soul so pure as thine is.   Sir Oli. 

How? is this  
The language of a wounded man, to him  
That made them Mullynex?   Caps. 

What language fit?  
Thou art a noble enemy:— And now  
My troubled understanding's calm again,  
I see myself worthy the wounds I have,  
And all their Anguish trebled.— Thou art just.   Sir Oli. 

I am to unmindful, of what most I mind  
Thy smarting faintness:— But, my cares shall now  
Only attend thy safety.   Capt. 
Mind thine own:— fly Bellingham.  Sir Oli. 

Let all my best desires  
Be fruitless then.— Come Mullynex, Let me  
Support thy fainting body.   Capt. 
Worthy sir,— you've a Noble second▪  Sir Oli 

Sir I have, And whosoever dares be a duelist  
Should have the like;  
Should build his Hopes, rather upon his cause,  
Then on his strength,— his skill,— and hood winked fury,  
For these are nothing.   Capt. 

You have made me see▪  
That Braves and Boastings in bad Causes, are  
The dolphin's wanton dallying on the waves:  
That sore-runs Tempests; This untimely Graves.—   ( Exeunt.) Enter old Thrashard brave, and the Lady Mallory. Lad. Mal. 

You know my mind, fail not in any thing  
That lies in my direction.   Thra. 

Fear not me;— you have made me brave,  
And I'll do my business as bravely.   La. Mal. 
And so, for your son and Daughter.  Thra. 

Nay, for my Son, since he put on his bravery,  
For the part of a gallant in jest,— He will not be persuaded,  
But that he's a gallant in earnest; scorns to think o' Canvas,  
Course Freeze,— or a sheepskin Doublet;  
Or to talk but of Lords, and Ladies.— And as for my Daughters!   La. Mal. 
Your part.—  Thr. 
Is a Justice of Peace:— And you are sweet Lady,— my Lady▪  Lady. 
Hark, he's come already.  ( Hum, hum, within.) Thra. 

That's his hum indeed;— In good Lady,  
In,— when your part comes in,  
I'll give you your Qu. to enter.— Exit Lady▪ Enter Sir Robert.  
An I can but hit, the state of a Justice  
Handsomely. He comes, and I go to my station.   Sir Rob▪ 

Well Edmonton; thou that hold'st her, that holds me,  
In this strong meshd Net of affection, I am once again come to see thee.  
How, in th' imagination of this sport,  
My old heart capers?— Well? this little house,  
This little Cottage, while it holds my Peg,  
Is my best house,— my Castle;— Nay, my Palace,  
My delicate Palace of Pleasure.   Thra. 
You are welcome honest Gentleman; what would you?  Sir Ro. 

Ha▪— what would you sir?  
By his face old Thrashard my tenant:  
But, by the reverend outside that he wears,  
I know not, with what stile to salute him.   Thra. 
Would you ought, with me or mine, sir?  Sir Rob. 
I would speak with' good man of this house sir.  Thr. 
The Right worsh●…pfull, Master of this house, you speak to.  Sir Rob. 
This house?  Thra. 
This house.  Sir Rob. 
What may▪ I call your name sir?  Thra. 

My name, in common, is Thrashard.—  
But with the Gentile Addition, Oliver Thrashard Esquire,—  
Justice of Peace and Quorum.   Sir Rob. 

Justice of Peace and Quorum.—  
Do not you know me, Master Oliver?   Thra. 
By this chain, not I sir.  Sir Rob. 
Not me, Master Oliver Thrashard?  Thra. 

Not you,— Master▪ what shall I call thee,— Belike,  
We shall know you, whether we will know you, or no sir.   Sir Ro. 

Has not your worship a son, that men call,—  
Master— Abra'm Thrashard.   Sir Rob. 
May a man sir, desire to see him?  Thr. 

He is not afraid to be seen sir,— Son Abram, Ent. Abram▪  
Master Abra'm, come— here's a Gentleman  
Desires to see you.   Abra. 

To see me, my Right worshipful Father?—  
An he be a Gentleman, we are to be seen, and spoke to.—  
Your business to me sir? Hum!   Sir Ro. 
Does your worship know me, Master Abraham?  Abr. 

My worship does know many Gentlemen,— some Lords,  
And some Ladies too sir.   Sir Ro. 
But me,— your old landlord, Sir Robert?  Abra. 
Landlord?— to one in satin?  Sir Ro. 
Your Worship, remembers me sure sir.  Abra. 

My worship remembers you not sir: does not,—  
Must not,— shall not. Landlord, to one in satin!—  
Did you hear him right worshipful Father?   Thra. 

I hear him, my worshipful son:  
Just thus he talked to me too.   Abra 
Landlord, to one in satin?  Sir Rob. 

They talk of a wonderful year;—  
But here's a most wonderful Minute, worshipful sir;—  
Ha' not you a Sister, called Gillian?   Abra. 

Called Mistress Gillian, I have;—  
And you shall know that I have,  
Sister, Mistress Gillian, Sister.   Enter Gillian brave. Gill. 
Now, what's the good news will you now?  Abra. 

there's a Gentleman,— would speak with one Gillian:  
No more but so, plain Gillian.   Gill. 
You might have remembered the M. sir.  Sir Ro. 
Which of the Ms— madonna,— Mistress, or Maukin?  Gill. 

Right worshipful Father;  
Shall our greatness endure the Maukin?   Sir Rob. 

I confess forgetfulness:— your pardon,— your pardon  
Sweet Mistress Gillian.   Thra. 

'tis well, you have changed your note sir▪— had you not,—  
By this chain;— I know, what I know, I do sir.   Gill. 

Did not the civility of gentility, stand up, as it were,  
Between us, withholding these two,— do you see sir?   Abr. 
'Tis well sir, you do not feel 'em.  Sir Ro. 
Do not you know me, Mistress Gillian?  Gill. 
For, a sau●…ie companion, I do sir.  Sir Ro. 

Why this is admirable,  
What Brokers wardrobe have they met withal,  
To meet with me thus?— Let me not mistake,  
And charge a kindness,— with unkindness though:  
For ought I know, this may be some conceit,  
That in the close, shall to my entertain  
Add more delight and lustre.— Worthy sir,  
May but my boldness, progress to the sight  
Of your fair Daughter Margaret I ha' done,  
And rest indebted to your right worshipful self,  
With your worshipful, son, and Daughters.   Thra. 
Son Abram,— Call in thy worshipful Sister  Abra: 

Now you talk like one of us,—  
A gentleman, a gentlewoman  
Shall talk with the gentleman,— And so,— as the proverb is, 'tis  
Merry, when Gentle folks, meet Enter Margarett Very brave  
Sister Mistress Margaret Sister   Mar. 
Your business brother.  Abra. 
Ask our right worshipful father.  Sir. Ro. 

I there's the star, brighter, than Lucifer,  
That ushers in my happiness   Marg. 
With me sir?  Sir Rob. 

My beauteous Margaret: how e'er o'th' sudden  
Changed into these rich ornaments,— I hope,  
You know me, better, than your father does;  
Your brother, or your sister?   Mar. 
Know you sir.  Sir Ro. 
I hope you do  Mar. 
Sooth, but I do not sir▪  S. Ro. 
Not know me?  Mar. 

No;— nor to be brief; and plain,  
Do I desire, to know you,   Sir Ro. 

Not my Peg  
Not mine own Pegy know me?— beauteous Peg,  
I am sir Robert Malory   Marg. 
Away.  Sir Ro. 
Now in good deed law;— in good sooth I am.  Marg. 

sir Robert Mallory?-I do not know him:  
But I have heard of such a one:— a knight,  
A city knight;— A piece of old dry stuff  
That's good for nothing but.—   Sir Ro. 
Peg,- beauty, Peg.  Mar. 

And yet, they say,— in his libidinous heat,  
As rank a lecher,— a Baboon,— a Goat   Sir Ro. 
Peg, beauteous Pegy.  Mar. 

A cock sparrow;— one  
As lustful, as a satire! out up on him.  
Wrong his good lady?— such a beauteous lady;  
Nay such a virtuous lady?▪ out upon him.   Sir Ro. 
Has her brave suit, made her forget me to.  Mar. 

They say, his lust most eagrely pursues  
His tenants daughter: A poor country wench:  
A silly girl heaven knows;— yet wise enough,  
To make the lecher lose his longing,   Sir Ro. 
Ha? this the delight I▪ looked for,  Mar. 

'Tis reported,  
Has done her good;— settled a poor estate  
Upon her aged father;— and of goodness,  
Must the reward be sin?— must she for this,  
Become his whore? his strumpet?   Sir Rob. 
Peg,— sweet Peg.  Mar. 

Were I as she is, what so ere she be,  
I should so fit his Knight ship;▪ and so firk  
That satire,— monkey,— that baboon,— that goat—   Sir Ro. 
Some Conjuration, witchcraft  Thra. 
How he sweats.  Enter Lady Mallory Mar. 
Sister, pray call our mother.  Gill. 
Lady Mother.  La Mal. 
How now what's the matter?  Sir Ro. 

How's this? her mother? why, this is my  
Lady;▪ or,— the devil in  
My Lady's likeness.— I'm sure she'll know me.   La Ma. 
Desire to speak with me sir?  Sir Ro. 
You forsooth?— will not she know me.  Lady. 
I cannot stand to talk sir.  Sir Ro. 
Not with me?  Lady. 
With you sir?— no sir; what are you sir?  Sir Ro. 
Ha?— do not you know me Lady?  Lady. 

Know you sir?  
How?— when?— where?— why?— for what sir!   Sir Rob. 

How?— when?— where?— why?— for what sir? why here's  
The finest mad fit;— the most worshipful piece of Lunacy, that  
A man shall desire to look on.  
Why, are not you my wife?   Lady. 
Thy wife?  Sir Ro. 
My wife.  Lady. 

I hope— my right worshipful Husband— you will not  
Seem jeered And derided.—  
He challenges me,— for his Wife!   Thra. 

My Lady, your wife? By this chain; an you play  
The mad Alderman here,— you were better ha' done't in bedlam  
Your wife?  
Go to;— no more but so;— go to.   Abra. 

Our right worshippfull mother, your wife?—  
By this satin go to;— no more but so,— go to   Gill. 

My mother, your wife sir?— marry come up▪ for a wife sir;  
Were it not, as it is;— that gentility holds my hands-!   Mar. 

Me thinks, in such a gentleman, as you are,  
Such sport,— so old;▪ and such a Reverend man;  
This wildness shows not handsome.   ( Thra. and Lady kiss) Sir Ro. 

Handsome▪ quotha!  
My wife, my spouse ●…eny me! death they kiss:  
An I be mad,— I'll play the mad man's part  
A little longer— hark you gentlewoman;  
Are not you my wife?— are not you my tenant?—  
Are not you Abram Ninne? you Gillian  
Of Brainford?— you pretty Peg of Edmonton?  
And this Little house here, mine own sir;— death, they jeer me  
Is your merry devil— that cheated the devil; come again to make  
Merry amongst you?— well, I see, how the case stands: this is  
A trick of my Ladies, to rack,— to deride,— and shame me:  
She has found me out▪ and there's no holding out any longer,  
Peg,— wife— Peg:— I confess sweet Peg, there stands the Peg,  
That I had a desire, to have played at mumble de Peg with all  
But— dost thou hear me?— lady▪ madam, Peg   Lady- 
The old man's mad.  Sir Ro. 

I were mad indeed,— an I should not know mine own  
Lady! Prithee torment me no longer,— good Love, good honey,  
Good Pigs●…e, I was wanton;— I was wanton,— I confess it,—  
But hear what I'll tell thee, in private   Abra. 

When, we walk thus abroad how our once familiar  
Acquaintance will Bow and Adore our satin.—  
But, we know the worshipful Nod;— for a word,—  
We shall hardly Afford 'em.   Lady. 
May I believe all this?  Sir Rob. 

Believe it Peg?— if e'er, I be troubled,  
With this foolish vagary again;  
If there be, to be spied, the least touch of this, Itch about me,  
Let those worthy men, with whom I sit, set me beside my seat  
And devise, some new Torment, to tame me.— Nay let my frailty  
Be put in Print,— and sung▪ that the City, may Ring on't!   Lad. 

You have protested well; and I believe you:  
This fault, is pardoned—   Sir Ro. 

You must seal it then— Kiss  
How like, the right worshipful, this now?   Thra. 
By this chain,— exceeding well sir.  Abra. 
I protest, by this satin, it is sir.  Sir Ro, 

Please your worships,  
May I possess her now?— do ye know me now?   All. 
Our worthy,— and right worshipful landlord.  Sir Rob. 

Will your satin, submit to that sir?— Peg,— I love the.  
Not for thy beauty,— but thy virtue's girl.  
The testimony of it, shall be this:— your states  
Shall be as great, as they appear to be,  
I have spare bags, will do't wench.— Come, we must  
Give virtue now— what we decreed to lust.—   ( Exeunt) Enter Mr. William,— Cuthbert, and Hugh Mr W. 
You have done, to my directions gentlemen.  Cut. 
Have we not, bully Will?  Hu. 
Have we not sir?  Mr. W. 

I have placed Mr. Rash,— where he expects his lady,  
With a heart, as light, as a bubble.   Cut. 
And I, Mr. Timothy Plush.  Husband 
And I, Mr. Gregory Dwindle.  M. W. 

Mine like one, that had six pence a day, for his labour,  
Stands here at the upper end of Lymestreete.   Cut. 
mine, in the Middle  Husband 
And mine, at the lower end on't.  M. W. 

But all unseen,— till they see their times to discover.  
Most amiable Lady, cries mine!   Cut. 
Most splendidious Beauty, mine  Hu. 
Odriferous Mistress, mine.  M. W. 

Proceed we now to our purpose, Away to your stands;  
And stand to your tacklings tightly. ( Exeunt Cut, and Husband:)  
Now, must I bacl, for my imagined lady; ( to▪ their stands.)  
Whose amiable Presence, is infinitely wished  
And expected—   ( Exit, where he entered.) Enter Rash at his stand. Rash. 

Sweet Mr. William  
Well, the minutes coming,  
That is, as 'twere, the crown of all the hours;  
Of all the days▪ the weeks, of all the months:  
Nay, in a word,— of all those many years  
That have forerun it.— Lady, Lady, come  
Sweetest, of all sweet women, come, come quickly.   Enter Master William & Barbary, as his Lady veiled. M. Wil. 

Come, as you hope to be translated from a fry chambermaid,  
That is,— a Maid, & no Maid( for so are the most of your function)  
To a civil Citizens wife,— Carry thyself,— like a woman  
Of note and carriage.— That blows in jest should swell thus!  
But, this loose-bodied black conceals it  
Master Rash.   Enter Rash again, at his stand. Rash. 
Master William.  M. Wil. 
Sweet master Rash, your servant.  Rash. 
Lady,— you shower upon my head all happiness.  M. Wil. 

Something she may in good time sir.—  
A word in private Lady.   ( Whisper.) Rash 

It would grieve a man, for one so white as she is to attend  
To the middle in snow;— Nor for one so red as she, to wade to  
The chin in blood:— for her white is whiter than snow,▪ and  
Her red then the blush of Roses.   M. Wi. 

It is my Lady's pleasure, that you turn up that corner,—  
And so go through Allgate to the tower;— where— she,  
Having dispatched a little business with a Gentlewoman  
A little below here, will instantly be pleased to meet you,  
To finish the thing you wot of.   Rash. 
Our happy Nuptials sir?  M. W. 
Your happy nuptials.  Rash. 
The Tower?  M. Wi. 
The Tower— Her care has made all things ready.  Rash. 
I shall attend you Lady.—  ( Exit, at his stand.) M. Wi. 
Is not this handsome, Bab?  Bab. 
It will be anon, Mr▪ William.  Enter Cut▪ from his stand. Cut. 

Stand fast master Plush, I beseech you,  
While I go look out for the Lady.   M. Wi. 
Honest Cut Hough-man!— you know your part.  Cut. 
And shall act it to the life, never fear it.  M. Will 
You are perfect too, I doubt not.  Bab. 
To a Syllable,— sweet Master william.  Cut. 

We must not word off time thus:— Now she's mine  
do you stand aside, and observe us.—  
So, all the state you can think on.  
Sweet master Plush.   Enter Plush at his stand. Plu. 

Honest Cut, let me be cut into steaks, if I make not thee  
A great man, for this piece of service.   Cut. 
I know you a man, of a most magnanimous soul sir.  Plu. 

Thou fairest the Sun ere darted ray upon;  
Thou Non-parallel,— thou gem, thou Paragon,  
What shall I call thee?— Call thee what I can,  
I shall but praise thee,— like a mortal man,  
Thou more than mortal woman!— O, me thinks,  
I could so tickle thee in phrase and flash,  
Beauty was ne'er so tickled! Let me embrace thee.— So!  
And kiss thee,— so!— Nectar, Nectar▪ Nectar.   Cut. 

He said he would Tickle her, but she has tickled him,  
I am sure on't.   Plu. 
Depart so soon, sweet beauty?  Bab. 

You know my heart, and have it:— I have business,—  
But here hard by sir, for an hour, or so;  
Which done I shall return.   Plu. 
But will you?  Bab. 
Will I?— what else do you think I came for?  Plu. 
Queen of beauty.  Bab. 
And then.—  Plu. 
And then,— I shall attend you Lady!  Cut. 

But to your stand,— you must be private,— so sir, Exit Plush to his stand.  
How think you of this Master William?   M. Wil. 
O, rarely, rarely!  Cut. 
Then skulk a little longer, and we'll have it rarer yet sir.  Hu. 

Stand fast master Dwindle, I beseech you. Enter Hugh at his stand.  
Whilst I go look out for the Lady  
Cut?— And how is't, madonna Barbara?— She is now  
My charge— go,— bacl to the stand, you came from, tell  
Spruce master Plush, that the Lady is now at her business; and  
That you'll bear him company, till her La●…iships time of returning.   Cut. 
T●…ou hast counselled me right rarely.—  ( Exit to his stand) Hu. 

So,— as your lesson is;  
With all the Pride a woman's heart can think on— Mr. Dwindle▪   Greg. 

Honest Hugh,— well, Enter Greg Dwindle, from his stand.  
I shall think upon thee.   Hu. 

Think?— Can you think me, a new suit?—  
Think me a new Sword?— think me a new Belt?—  
Think me a new Beaver▪?— or think me a Pouch full of pieces▪  
I think,— you think,— no such matter.   Greg. 
I think thou thinkst right honest Hughkin.  Hu. 

Why then,— I think what I think,▪ and  
There's an end of our thinking.   Greg. 
Well, an my Father would but die once.  Hu. 
Your Father die?  Greg. 

he's threescore years old and upward,  
Is't not time he should now, go downward?   Hu. 
And time, that you should go Westward.  Greg. 

How I love you Lady,— you may see by my eyes:—  
Which have nothing else to do, were the day as long as a dozen,  
But to gaze up ●…n thee,— and thy Beauty,  
O●…- by my heart,— sweet Lady.— By that lip I do—  
By those two lips;▪ which I take for a Book,— with two leaves—  
And thus— I take,— my oath upon it.   ( A long kiss) Hu. 

But hark you,— do you hear?— master Dwindle.  
God's-light, there's an oath indeed.   Greg. 
I swear but seldom,▪ but than I do swear to purpose.  Hu. 

I see,— you like her;▪ that liking her, you love her;—  
And that loving her, you will lie with her,▪ and that lying with  
H●… you will—   Greg. 
Wh●…t sir.  Hu. 

What sir,— an you know not what sir, you may turn  
〈◊〉 over to me sir: An●… lie with her, and do not something;  
Wh●… th●… let her say, I have— Nothing.   Greg. 

B●… gone sweet Lady? Why I thought you had come▪  
To go to Church with me to be married.   Bab. 

You know my heart, and have it: only sir,  
I have a little business,— here hard by;  
An hour, or such a thing;▪ which overpast,— I shall return.   Greg. 
But will you?  Bab. 
By this kiss.  Greg. 
A most sweet oath, I take it.  ( Kiss) Hu. 
Betake you to your Stand then, and stand close.  Bar. 

Being so near the place I am to go to,  
Till I return, pray keep him company.—   Gr. 
Well, an my Father would but die once.▪  ( Ex. to the stand) M. W. 

Mistress Barbary, I could praise thee a whole day together,  
But, we must follow, what follows.—   ( Exit at the end.) Plu. 

Me thinks— Enter Plush and Cut, from their stand.  
This hour, is a very long hour, Master Cuthbert,   Cut. 

A lover's hour, in the presence of his Mistress, is a minute▪—  
But, in her absence,— he thinks every minute an hour sir.   Plu. 
Well, she is a wondrous sweet one.  Cut. 
You do not smell her hither, I hope sir?  Plu. 
I mean in her Aspect;— her countenance.  Cut. 
How blessed shall you be in this Lady?  Plu. 
I thank the Fates▪ I shall:▪ & thou shalt not be unthought of.  Cut. 

I doubt not your worships bounty.—  
Beseech you a word in private.—   ( Whisper.) Enter Hugh and Gregory from their stand. Hu. 

You are the most impatient Lover, that beautiful eye ever  
Looked on, why half her hour is not out yet.   Greg. 
Well,— 'tis the longest hour.  Hu. 

But, as you were about to say,  
Concerning the choice of a wife sir.   Gr. 

Why, thus I do say, honest Hughkin,- I would have my wife,—  
Like Alexander's— Horse.   Hu. 
How's that?— Your wife like a Horse sir?  Greg. 
Like Alexander's horse, I would sir.  Hu. 

And why,— like Alexander's Horse Master Gregory?  
Why, as that Horse,— would let no man ride him, but Alexander?  
So, I would have my wife, let no man ride her, but- Gregory.   Husband 

Good truth, you say right;— In right there's no wrong;▪  
No wrong, there's no hurt;— no hurt, there's no danger,—  
No fear,— and▪ no fear,— why so much for that sir.   Cut. 

Birlady, as you say, she stays somewhat long indeed sir.—  
Pray heaven, your rival- Master Gregory Dwindle have not  
Met with her.   Plu. 
Dwindle?  Cut. 

He,— I do half suspect it— He has been later with her▪  
Then you imagine, he has sir.   Plu. 
The next time I meet him,— I will kill him.  Cut. 
I would not have you die sir:— But—  Plu. 
That Butt, will I Run full Butt at, and broach him.  Hu. 
I do but tell you, what I think, Master Gregory.  Greg. 
That Plush has met her?  Hu. 
I have seen somewhat more than I'll speak of.  Greg. 
Well,— an my Father would but die once.  Hu. 
I talk sir of Plush, your rival;— you must fight.  Greg. 

Well, an I must, I must;— I'll examine my Sword,  
And see, how he'll stand to the business.   ( Draw, and bend) Cut. 

Your rival sir, your rival,—  
With his Sword stark naked already▪   Plu. 
My Sword can go naked too sir.  ( They draw) Hu. 

Your rival sir,— turn, and defend yourself;  
You're a dead man else.   Plu. 
Dwindle, thou hast wronged me.  Greg. 
Plush,— thou hast wronged me.  Plu. 
Thou hast stolen away my Lady from me.  Greg. 
Thou hast stolen away my Lady from me.  Plu. 
For which▪— though I be loathe—  Greg. 
For which, though I be loathe—  Cut. 

Pox o'you both, for Coxcombs.—  
As You're a Gentleman, strike him.   Hu. 

As you're a Gentleman strike him. While they are fighting a far off.  
An they hurt one another;— hang me.   Cut. 

Hold, hold, hold, Enter Rash, Barbary, Mr. William and a Priest.  
You are gulled Gentlemen, you are gulled:  
Look there's the Lady you fight for.   Hu. 
Mr. Rash the Mercer.  Cut. 
And the Parson, that joined together.  Greg. 
Revenge, revenge.  Plu. 
Blood, and Revenge, assist me.  Parson. 
Why gentlemen?— what mean you, Gentlemen?  Rash. 
Mr. Plush,- Mr. Gregory Dwindle.  Bab. 
Mr. Dwindle; Mr. Timothy Plush.  Plu. 
This-Lady, is for you.  Rash. 
Your Beauty Lady.  Bab. 

Lady, me no Ladies; for I'll be a Lady no Longer, I am,  
My Lady's chambermaid; do you know me?   ( disclose) Plu. Greg. 
My Lady's Chamber maid?  Mr. Wil. 
An you know her not yet, you may know her hereafter,— by this.  Rash. 
By that sir?— what sir? Villainy, villainy, villainy!  Bab. 
No matter for that; I'll be honest enough to you sir.  Rash. 
Villainy, villainy, villainy▪  ( he runs of) Bab. 
You cannot fly so fast; but I can follow—  ( Exit hastily) Mr. Wil. 
I'll-follow too,— and use▪ my best skill to Attone'em▪  Exit. Plu. 
My Lady's chambermaid?  Cut. 
The Lady herself, is a dish,— for yourself, to feast on.  Plu. 
is't possible?  Cut. 
As to do thus.  Plu. 
O rare.  Greg. 
Gull him with the maid,— to help me to the bed of the Mistress?  Hu. 

You see my Love sir.— foolish Remnant Seller;  
A Citizen:— you are a Gentleman!   Greg. 
Well; an my Father, would but die once!  Hu. 
That time, will come.  Greg. 
I would it were gone, honest Hughkin.  Cut. 

So much, I know my Lady's bosom sir.  
That what I speak, I'll justify.— she's yours.   Hu. 
I think, I have said enough sir.  Greg. 
I shall have her.  Hu. 

Shall I talk?— shall I walk? shall I eat? shall I drink?  
Shall I sleep?— shall I live?— shall I die sir?   Cut. 

But, you must tread the path, I put you in;  
An you stray, but a foot, you loose her.   Hu. 

But,— as I have told you, Mr. Gregory Dwindle,  
You must not miss a half of my directions.   Plu. 

Honest Cut●…,— I am for this thing,— any thing,— all things,  
To compass the Bed of the Lady.   Greg. 

An I do not do as I should do▪— may I never come to do,—  
What I wooed do.   Cut. 
You have said enough:— And go I'll direct you better.  Ex. at one end Hu. 
Do this, she's yours:— As we go I'll direct you better.  Exit at the other end.  

ACT. 5.  Enter captain in his nightgown, Doctor, Servants, chair and stools. Doct. 
Have tender hands upon him.— so, now Leave us.  Capt. 

Your goodness mixing with those thing●… you apply,  
Doubles their virtue, and to all you do  
Sets a most wished Conclusion.   ( Knock within) Doct. 
See who knocks.—  ( Exit Serv.) Capt. 

I make no question, I shall find you such▪  
Concerning the concealment of my friend,  
That worthy Gentleman, Sir Oliver,  
As I desire, to find you.   Enter Servant. Doct. 
All I am,— is at your service, captain.— Now sir.  Serv. 

Sir, here's the mourning Lady so much talked of▪  
Sir Robert Mallory, and his Lady sir,  
That good, good Lady.   Capt. 

Trust me, y'●…re to blame.  
They were not entered with you?— prithee step  
And do't with thy best duty:— Nay, I knew  
The Rumour of our unsuspected quarrel  
So spread, as I have caused it to be spread,  
They would not long be from me, Enter Sir Robert Mallory, hi●… Lady, & the Lady Mosely.  
They are come,— you know my thoughts.   Doct. 

Fear not my care; I do sir,  
Ladies,— and kind Sir Robert,— you are welcome.   Sir Rob. 
is't well, to see men Ill sir;— How is't captain?  Capt. 
Faith a weak man Sir Robert.  Sir Rob. 

Nay, nay sister;  
Then I shall chide you, weeping? Come come dry  
Thou hast wept too much, already.   La. Mal. 

Had I thought  
To come, had been to meet this new occasion  
Of grief, and anguish, I must tell you plainly  
You had come alone, for me.   Sir Rob. 
Come, wipe your eyes.  La. Mos. 

You may as well forbid the Bigswoln cloud  
By the sun's ardour melted into drops,  
To fall upon the bosom of the earth;  
As my swollen grief( Resolved into these tears)  
To fall from their full fountains.— Half the Number,  
Is for thy wounds( rash captain) tother half,  
For that sad gentleman,( where e'er he be)  
Whose hard hap 'twas to make 'em: And, in them,  
To make me Author of this Bloody work  
And his perpetual Exile   Capt 

'twas my frenzy,  
I, wretched I, was Author.   Sir Rob. 

Interchange  
Embraces, congyes;— and, to our belief,  
The Language of two Brothers;— And all this  
But merely show?— false colours,— a fair Masque  
O'er the stern;— Rough, and Formidable Face  
Of such a mortal Envy?— you were cunning   La. Mos. 

But, to our purpose sir:— our coming was,  
Hearing that worthy Gentleman, Sir Oliver▪  
Upon this bloody Accident, was fled.  
( For nothing else, is on the' Voice of Rumour)  
To learn, the certainty of you.   Capt. 

He, fled.  
To stop his flight,( though for his safety's sake  
He hide himself in some obscure disguise)  
I gave him, what encouragement, I could;  
Told him, my wounds were nothing: made their depth  
Appear, but shallow scratches;— That the loss.  
Of twice the Blood went from 'em, could not leave  
My heart so Pale, as to recoil against  
The worst they threatened:— Have proclaimed the hand  
Of Noble Bellingham from all this Blood,  
As white as Innocency.   All. 
How?  Capt. 

I have,  
And ta'en the purple stain upon myself;  
For 'twas myself wounded myself;— not He.   All. 
Yourself?  Capt. 

You call me, to a strict account.  
For he that's lost in such a storm of fury,  
Cannot be said, to be himself.   La. Mal. 

You have spoke  
A noble way to acquit him.   Sir Rob. 

But, it may be  
Imagining, we know the Place to which  
He has beta'en him to conceal himself,  
You speak all this, in hope we'll name the place,  
And so Discover him, to what revenge  
Your spleen shall seek upon him.   Capt. 

To revenge?  
To any, but yourself this harsh suspicion  
Should have as harsh an answer: But to you  
I'll thus acquit me: do you see this Ring?  
Your tears, will hardly let you see't:— yet Lady  
Pray look upon it.— Can▪ you call to mind  
A former sight on't?   La Mos. 
I have seen it sure.— Sir Oliver, I take it.  Capt. 
Lady 'twas.  Sir. Rob. 

Now I look better on't, it was indeed.  
Thou knowest it too.   La. Mal. 
I do sir:— what of this?  La. Mos. 
What comfort yields the sight on't?  Capt. 

I have shown  
This, to acquit me of those treacherous thought●…  
That you suspected in me, against the life  
Of noble Bellingham;— Who— as he parted,  
( To take a Journey in uncertain paths,)  
Left this Ring with me.   Sir Rob. 
You have charmed us now,— from all our harsh suspicions.  Capt. 

Till he gave me  
This cause to hate him, I ne'er loved him: Now,  
I do not grieve so much, this loss of Blood,  
Nor all the smart goes with it, as by this  
I have lost the sight and the society  
Of such a fair example of all goodness,  
As I shall ne'er more look on.— I could tell you  
How much( beyond the sufferings of a Man)  
I dared him to the field:— How meeting there,  
He did not look upon me as a Foe;  
Or, one that thirsted a Revenge,— but one  
That only met to show he durst,— and then,  
Seemed— in the language of his look— at once  
To speak the Dreyrie issue of a fight,  
And— to advise to shun it.— Till he saw  
My weapon out,— His sleep within his scabbard.  
Both equally prepared,— my weapon only  
Laboured for blood;— His, only his own guard  
Without desire to touch me. In a word,  
What you see done,— I made him do;— and done,  
His heart wept blood to think on't.— When another  
( Seeing his state thus dangerous) would have fled;  
I could not counsel him to't,— but in this,  
As all his Actions, valuing noble things  
Above his life— he took into's embraces  
My wounded body;— Brought me from the field;  
And to the diligence, and well known skill  
Of thi●… good man has left me: Leaving with him,  
( I almost blush, to do him right in that)  
His ample satisfaction for my Cure,  
Or whatsoever may be demanded.   Sir Rob. 
Sir you've given him a fair Character,  Capt. 

He were  
Base than Envy would not.— and all this  
He did i'th' Honour of your Beauty Lady.   Sir Rob. 
Lady.  La. Mal. 
Dear sister.—  Doct. 
Lady.  Capt. 
He loved you dearly: Can his Praises▪ then offend your ear?  La. Mos. 

No every syllable  
Of his commends is music.— But to think,  
That, for my sake this much Commended worth,  
( Yet much above, the great commends it has)  
Should- thus be lost O, I could weep myself,  
Into my senseless Statue!— Bellingham!  
O Noble, noble Bellingham!   All. 
Sister.  Capt. 

Lady:  
If his Commends be music in your ear,  
Be patient, and hear more on't.— once again.  
To this:— 'Twas his;— and( as I said before)  
He left it as he parted: But, not mine,  
But thine,— thou best of women:— his desire,  
You'd wear it for him:— when, you look upon it,  
You'd think upon him; thinking, that you'd give  
His wand'ring steps fair wishes.   La. Mos. 

As I would  
My soul, departing, on her journey hence  
To her eternal dwelling.   Capt. 

Pray observe,  
How in this ring, h'as emblemed all the world,  
And all her painted glories.— look you Madam▪  
A bed of roses-withered.— And the word,  
Caelestia non sic!— 'tis not thus in heaven!  
There's no decay; no failing, All things there  
Their Innate beauties do for ever wear:  
For ever, their full flourish:— Here below,  
Our best joys wither; All things Ebb and Flow.— Indeed—  
He was not master of that thing, from which  
He did not draw,( as out of this small compass,  
Sweet and celestial uses!— was a man,  
As heaven had only made a man to make  
By his example, multitudes of men,  
Such as itself would have 'em.— you weep still.   La. Mos. 
No hope, again, to see him?  Capt. 
Do you wish it?  La. Mos. 
As life, as health, as Heaven!  Capt. 
You will not then deny one kindness to me?  Sir Rob. 

what is't captain?  
Now you have left your love-suit sir;— and seem  
To be a spokes-man, for young Bellingham  
She can deny you nothing:— what is't captain?   Capt. 

Faith only this Sir Robert.— I would beg  
Since she desires to see him, that, for that  
she'd Let me wear this Diamond but till I find  
Fit time to send it to him.   All. 
Send it?  Capt. 

Yes— No strict inquiries of me: I have spoke  
If you dare trust me—   La. Mos. 
But direct me sir— I'll Bear't myself.  Capt. 

You know my bosom Lady;  
If you will send it.   La. Mos. 
Take it.  Sir Rob. 
Take it captain,— but—  Capt. 

I conceive all that you can urge me to,  
And will perform to your own wish.— My wounds  
Call for your help sir.— I must now desire  
You would be pleased to leave me.   Sir Rob. 

we'd be loathe  
To be a hindrance to the happiness  
That we all wish for.   All. 
Farewell noble captain.  Exit manant Doctor & Captain. Doct. 
Come, shall I look upon your wounds?  Capt. 

No, no:  
I feigned myself much fainter than I am,  
To hasten them to leave me.  
Thanks to your Art;— and you great Master of it.  
I feel my legs sturdy supporters now, Ent. Bellingham from the Arras.  
And for a need could travel.— Bellingham.  
You have observed these passages?   Sir Oly. 

I have;  
Unseen I have seen, and overheard 'em.   Capt. 

Then— I hope you have seen, that I have played the part  
Of a just Advocate.   Sir Oly. 

Sir, you've done  
For me,— the most unworthy— such a Love  
As I shall ne'er make even with.   Capt. 

No more;  
Th' Exchange is made, Sir Oliver:— there,— take it, ( the Ring)  
She dreams not sir, you have't so suddenly:  
But, what's to follow— I must change my seat,  
For this has tired me sir.— we'll take more hours  
Sufficiently to think on.   Sir Oly. 
Noble captain.—  ( Exeunt.) Enter Master William, Cut, and Hugh. Mr. Wil. 

Will these foolish Suitors be troublesome still?  
And still live in hope of my Lady?   Hu. 
Hang 'em Puttocks; you shall hear more of them hereafter.  Cut. 
But how is't with Rash, and his piece of Rash, Mistress Barbary?  M. W. 

Faith, he's not so rash as he was, with some supple persuasions  
Of mine;— her hanging the head,— beating the breast, wring  
The hands,— wiping the neyes,— and lamentably breathing some  
Hundred and fifty heigh'oes; he was won in the end to buss her, to  
Embrace her,— to buss her again.— He bussed,— and she bussed,— and they  
Both bussed so long,— till at last,— overcome in this conflict of kisses;  
He yielded himself her Captive, and has vowed  
Till his death to love her as dear as his life.   Cut. 
How now? what music's this?  Music, and a Song from the music room. M. Wi. 

'Tis applied to my Lady's melancholy,  
But I fear me to little purpose,— peace, a Song.   The Song ended, Enter Sir Robert. Sir Rob. 

Now, Master William,  
How fares my Sister, and your Lady?— ha?   M. why. 

she's a sad Lady;— and so sad, Sir Robert,  
That no delights, that her most loving friends  
Present unto her senses, from her breast  
Can take one minutes anguish.   Enter Lady Mallory. Sir Rob. 

Well, I fear me,  
she'll pine herself into her winding-sheet.  
Now Peg, how is't?— how does our sister? ha?  
Canst smile, and tell me, there's as clear a sky  
Upon her beauty? No, that downcast look  
I fear me's her sad picture.   La. Mal. 

'Tis indeed:  
But the occasion of her grieve's changed.   Sir Rob. 
What's the sad matter now then?  La. Mal. 
Only now,— young Bellingham's sad absence.  Sir Rob. 
Bellingham?  La. Mal▪ 

For which, with many sighs, with many tears,  
Many abrupted syllables, extolling  
His noble worth and goodness;— she accuses  
Her wretched self;— making herself the cause  
Of that sad fight, and this lamented Issue.  
It grieves me thus to see her;— and as much  
To leave her in it,— I must in again:  
Come, will you in, Sir Robert?   Exit. Sir Rob. 

Go, I'll follow.  
Heaven never pity me, but for the weight Capt. Enter Mullynex and Sir Oliver as the Doctor.  
Of sorrow, lies upon her tender heart,  
My heart's as full of anguish.  
My brave captain,  
Do you so much compassionate the tears  
Of my poor sister, as thus weak and ill,  
To come to see, and comfort her?   Capt. 

Sir Robert,  
I thank my great Restorer, I am well:  
But, were I at the weakest, hearing her grief,  
I should forget mine own, and tender that  
My best respects, and service.   Sir Rob. 
You are Noble.  Capt. 
Still grieving her lost Husband?  Sir Rob. 

Questionless,  
There's some remains of that:— but with it sir,  
Sh'as now th'addition of your blood: with that  
The flight of him, that yours commends,— and his  
Better considered worthiness, has made  
So noble to her, Noble Bellingham,  
For whom, as one by her occasion lost,  
Her conscience seems to check her:— and retired  
Into her melancholy chamber, sits  
As in a Cell:— whence all the loving means  
That can be used, have not the power to move her.   Capt. 

In her Chamber?  
And this strong Passion for young Bellingham?  
Pray call a servant.   Sir Rob. 

Some within there. Enter a Servant.  
Bear this to your sad Lady sir, and tell her  
The man she grieves for, will not long be from her;  
And that the bringer of it does desire  
She would be pleased, that he might see her here.   Sir Rob. 
Here, tell her here:— go, fetch her.  Exit servant. Capt. 

Nay, if that  
Be her disease, this is the cure or nothing.   Sir Rob. 
Why, is young Bellingham returned?  Capt. 

You see  
The Ring she sent him is returned: from that,  
Let me alone to cure her.   Enter Margaret brave. Sir Rob. 

Now my Peg,  
What comfort brings thy coming?   Marg. 

That my tongue  
Were furnished with those words that might delight you:  
I know, there's in this wish, and the sad signs  
It is delivered with, answer enough  
Touching your worthy sister's heaviness,  
To make your hearts as heavy.— But my charge,  
Is from my Lady, to entreat you would  
Be pleased to come and see her.   Sir Rob. 

See her wench?  
Prithee go in again, and tell thy Lady,  
We hope she'll leave her solitary Cell,— and come to us.   Marg. 
To you sir?  Sir Rob. 
Nay, nay, go,— and tell her what I bid thee.  Exit Margaret. Capt. 

Pray sir Robert,  
What beauty's this?   Sir Rob. 
A pretty beauty sir.  Capt. 

But that her wearings are so fair and costly,  
I should— from fame's rich penciling a Virgin,  
That was your foster daughter, take that piece,  
And this to be one beauty.   Sir Rob. 

So to take,  
Is not to take amiss sir; this is she:  
This is that girl, believe me.   Capt. 
Still a Virgin!  Sir Rob. 
As from her Mother, captain.  Capt. 
And her heart— her own sir, and unpromised.  Sir Rob. 

Yet believe me,  
Dost like her, noble captain?   Capt. 

To enjoy her,  
As the sole Mistress of my purest desires,  
Is the greatest happiness that I can aim at.   Sir Rob. 
You know her Birth.  Capt. 
'Tis noble in her virtues.  Sir Rob. 

If virtue be the best Nobility,  
'Tis so indeed.— go, thou shalt have her captain.  
And howe'er, set lightly by, till now,  
Sh'as now some weight;— five hundred Pieces Captain,  
Five hundred golden Pieces.   Enter the Servant. Serv. 
Your Lady Sister's coming sir.  Capt. 

Please you,  
I'll in, and try my fortunes with her sir.  
What follows of the Ring I sent,— this Doctor  
Can as well finish, as myself were here,  
I'll not be long about it.   Sir Rob. 

Say you so sir?  
Here, take this Ring, 'twill help you.— Never not fear her:  
Go in and woo her; win her, and then wear her, Exit Capt.  
I see that Ring has brought her: Ent. Lady Mosely, La. Mallory, and Mr. William.  
How is't Sister?   Lafoy▪ Mos. 

Revived a little by the sight of this,  
But let me see the man I sent it to,  
And then that cure upon my grief,— you wished▪  
Is to your wish effected.   Sir Rob. 
Master Doctor.  La. Mos. 
Where is he?— speak, who brought it?  Sir Oli. 
I did Lady.  La. Mos. 
You?— What are you sir?  Sir Oli. 

My Profession Lady,  
My habit shows you: I am he that cured  
The captain that he wounded.   Ladies. 
Mullynex?  Sir Oli. 
That captain Ladies.  La. Mos. 
Is he well?  Sir Oli. 
He is.  Sir Rob. 

As meat can make him; and his flesh as whole as a fish,  
Take my word for that Lady sister.   La. Mos. 
Ha?— where? where is he?  Sir Rob. 

Faith, somewhere here about the house he is,  
And see, he appears in his likeness. Enter captain with Margaret.  
You're as good as your word;— you have got her.   Capt. 

Not with child yet, but I hope I shall doe-ere long:  
Now heaven give us joy, and all's done sir.   Sir Rob. 

Heaven give you joy;— I'll give you the gold I promised you.  
You see the captain is well Sister.   La. Mos. 

Why then returns not Bellingham?— or does he,  
( Hearing his goodness has enthralled my heart)  
Neglect me now, because I neglected him,  
When my fresh griefs enforced me?— If he do,  
I must confess it but a just revenge:  
And so( as long as grief shall give me leave)  
Shall patiently endure it.   Capt. 

But you shall not,  
You have endured beyond a woman's strength,  
And shall endure no longer.— Master Doctor,  
You are the man must cure her.   Sir Oli. 

Beauteous Lady,  
'Twas your command, I should not trouble you  
With any tedious Love-suit;— and you see  
I have done, what you have enjoined me:— Now I hope  
I have your voluntary grant.   La. Mos. 

I am now,  
What Noble Bellingham shall please to make me.   Sir Rob. 

No doubt he'll make much o'thee Sister,— wilt thou not Knight?  
My brave sir, of a thousand per Annum?   Sir Oli. 

she's now mine own; and in this union sir,  
The best delights that her desires would have,  
Are mine, mine own;— and I shall so pursue 'em.   Sir Rob. 
And what say you master captain?  Capt. 

To my Peg▪  
I say( as he has said)— that she's myself,  
As you have said;— that she's my girl;— my pearl;  
Her voice, I will hang in my ear:— Her face in mine eye;  
Her pretty little waste in mine arms;  
And being in arms, let the soldier alone to come on sir.   Sir Rob. 

Why god●… mercy Captain.— Now to Church, Enter master William.  
Nay, we'll not lose a minute.   Mr. Wi. 

Beseech you stay a little, there's that mirth in your way Enter Rash and Bab like a Puritan.  
I dare promise will be worth your beholding:  
See, see't appears.   La. Mal. 
Who's this?— Master Rash?  Rash. 
The very same, an't please you.  Sir Oli. 
Your suit continued still sir?  Rash. 
I have turned up another suit now sir.  Sir Rob. 
Your Wife!  Rash. 
Even so sir.  Bab. 
Verily so sir.— do not you know me Lady?  La. Mos. 
Truth not I.  Bab. 
Nor you, nor you, nor you?  La. Mal. 
We know thee not.  Marg. 
What art thou?  Bab. 

This 'tis, to put off our vain & superfluous colours, and to walk  
As becometh the zealously metamorphosed. I was your  
Creature Lady.   La. Mos. 
How? my creature?  Bab. 

In the phrase of the world 'twas so.— But I am now,— mine own,  
Yet,— verily— I do err,— for— no wife,— is her own disposer.  
Verily none:— for we— to affirm sincerely, are but members  
Of our Head, the man;— our Spouse,— and our superior.   All. 
How Bab!  Mr. Wil. 
That Barbary Button, believe me.  Capt. 
How comes she to speak in the nose so?  Mr. Wil. 

The tone of the Brethren, and the Sisters;  
But, what do you think of this Member?   Bab. 

Though begot,— and conceived in vanity:— being borne in the  
State of Matrimony, the offence,— may no doubt be remitted, and the  
Innocent, in time, may prove a most,— zealous member.   Sir Oli. 
And what think you sir?  Rash. 
I think, as my wife thinks,— for man and wife are one.  Bab. 
Verily, you have said, & said- like a zealous husband.  Enter Cuthbert. Cut. 
Give way there Gentlemen.  All. 
Why, what's the matter?  Cut. 

Your shadow Lady;— and your rival sir:  
The prettiest fancy; the most dainty dream!  
Beseech you Madam, stand aside a little, Enter Plush and Gillian as the Lady.  
Much joy betide your worship.   Plush. 

Godamercy;  
Having this Beauty, I have all the joys  
My Auspicious stars could give me. Honest Cut;  
This service shall not be unthought of Cut.   Cut. 
Well Master Gregory,— an you do hang yourself.  Plu. 
Why, an he does, he does,— we cannot help it.  Cut. 
Yet it would grieve a man.—  Plu. 

Grieve a pudding:— And it grieve not him to do't, it shall never  
Grieve me to hear on't.— We are now man and wife.   Cut. 
For better, for worse sir.  Plu. 

Then, for better, for worse, I will keep her.—  
Why, there's another rival o'mine,— Sir Oliver,—  
Say he should take the same journey, and go to  
Heaven in a Halter after him; can I help it?   Sir Oli. 
I confess, you cannot:— thank you master Plush.  Plu. 
I did but say,— an— an you should sir.  Sir Oli. 

No, though the loss be somewhat grievous to me▪  
The sorrow shall not go so deep:— she's yours.   Plu. 
As sure as the Church can make her.  Sir Oli. 
What must be, must be sir;— much joy betide you.  Enter Gregory, the old Gentlewoman, as the Lady and Hugh. Plush. 
Thank you.  Greg. 

Now Lady,  
In spite of all my rivals, you are mine.   Old Gent. 
I am sir.  Greg. 
I know thou art, and thereupon—.  Hu. 

Not a kiss, till you come to your Chamber,— then  
she's your own all over.   Greg. 
'Tis enough: Now, an my father would but die once.  Hu. 
When Plush shall hear of this,— he'll hang himself.  Greg. 

An he do— to make a wry mouth at the match,  
I cannot help it; I should not do so by him though.—  
Save you gentlemen. We have the Lady Gentlemen.   Plu. 
We have the Lady-gentlemen.  Sir Rob. 
Is my Sister divided between you?  Sir Oli. 
You cannot both have the Lady.  Plu. 
Alas poor Gregory!  Greg. 
Alas poor Plush!  La. Mos. 

Alas poor coxcombs! here's a coil indeed  
About a worthless shadow:— What am I sir?   Sir Ro. Capt. 
Alas poor Plush!  La. Mal. Wi. 
Alas poor Gregory!  Plu. 
Why, who have I then?  Gill. 

Why, who do you think you have sir?—  
This is no Ivy bush, nor I an owl.—  
D'ye stare upon me? say?   Plu. 
Are you my wife?  Gill. 
I cannot tell,— how do you think sir? ha?  Sir Oli. 
Having got this Beauty from you, we got this Beauty for you.  Cut. 
You'll think upon me I hope sir.  Capt. 

The Gentlewoman is my Sister;— I tell you no more but so sir:  
She loves no large protests:— Embrace and kiss,  
And 'tis sufficient.— There's an end of this.   Sir Rob. 
And what say you sir?  Greg. 

Why, I say— ay— know not,— what to say,  
She— is not— very old sir— is she?   Capt. 

In her Hood,— some— 50— But in some Dressings she has,  
She may pass for a thing of twenty.   Greg. 

Here be some Gutters;— channel,— and Long lanes,  
But being filled up,— with— a little Plaster of Paris—   Capt. 
Garden.  Greg. 
The Face,— may pass—  Capt. 
For a Paris-garden face:— it may sir.  Old Gent. 
Come, ne'er be melancholy,— you shall find a woman of me I warrant you.  Greg. 

Thou speakest,— like a good old woman.— Well—  
An my wife would but die once.   Old gent. 
How sweetheart?— your Father.  Greg. 
I know what I said, I warrant you.  Old gent. 
Nay, pray thee sweetheart kiss me:— faith you shall—  ( Kiss) Greg. 
There— Puh! Well,— an— my wife would but die once!  Mr. Wi. 

Come, you are so melancholy:  
Why here's a man suffers, as much as you;  
Or you master Plush,— and yet you see he's patient.   Rash. 

I thought I had married a Lady too,— but— by lady,  
There's no such matter.— We must be contented now though.   Greg. 
Well— here be three of us.  Sir Rob. 

There be indeed;  
Stand together, I beseech you, and be silent.  
Come, let's to Church:— nay, we'll not lose a minute▪  
Brother;— son,  
So, now I'll call thee captain; having got  
The inestimable jewel, treasured up  
In this rich Cabinet:— for such a gem,  
Is the dear heart of Peg my girl;— my pearl;  
This beauteous, virtuous, Country girl:— And such  
The Prize your fortune,— or, your goodness rather,  
Has drawn in this sweet Beauty.— Many joys,  
Heaven send you both.   La. Mal. 
Many sweet girls and boys.  Sir Rob. 

Why, godamercy my old Pegg,— Away. Fl●…rish. Exeunt Rash, Plush, Gregory, and their Wenches staying, Mr. William enters to them.  
In love, and war, no danger to delay.     

Epilogue.  Mr. Wil. 

COme, will you go Gentlemen?—  
Nay you must be with us,  
And guests at this Wedding dinner.   All. 
Must we?  Mr. Wil. 

By any means in the world sir.—  
Their Cates will not relish without you.   Greg. 

A word or two first, to ease our stomachs here, and our▪  
Stomachs shall be there in an instant.— Gentlemen,  
You see how we have been abused,— Basely abused and gulled.   Rash. 
Ay, with this— cracked commodity.  Greg. 
Ay, with this— old commodity.  Plu. 
And I,— with this— scolding commodity.  Rash. 
How this crack,—  Greg. 
How this face—  Plu. 
How this tongue—  Rash. 
May be soldered,—  Greg. 
May be vernished,—  Plu. 
May be charmed.—  Rash. 
Ay,— any man can, let him tell us— no;— no man?  All. 
Not one word of comfort.  Rash. 

If not, for us, so cunningly betrayed  
To these hard bargains;— for our Country maid.   Plush. 

Our virtuous City Dame, be pleased to show▪  
That you are pleased,—   Greg. 

Though we be hardly so,  
These tricks thus put upon's.   Rash. 
And then, this— crack.  Greg. 
This— withered Face— here.  Plu. 
and my Gillian's clack.  Rash. 
I soldered.  Greg. 
Varnished.  Plush. 
Charmed.  Mr. Wil. 

Here you may please  
To understand, that what's set down, for these  
Is spoke for All: that by this part we mean,  
All the whole bulk, and Body of the scene  
We have Presented:— which— or ebbs, or flows,  
Or stands, or falls,— withers, or sweetly grows  
From the Aspects you give it:— Let them be,  
But gracious, we are yours.   Men. 
And we.  Women. 
And we.  Exeunt. 
FINIS.   

The actor's Names.  

Sir Robert Malory.  
Sir Oliver Bellingham.  
Captain George Mullynax.  
Master Rash.  
Master Timothy Plush.  
Master Gregory Dwindle.  
Old Thrash-hard.  
Abraham Thrash-hard— his son. 

Servingmen.  
Cutburt  
Hugh    
Lady Malory.  
Lady Mosely.  
An old Gentlewoman.  
Margaret, the Country girl.  
Gillian her scolding Sister.   
The scene, London, and Edmonton.