THE Feigned ginger. A COMEDY.  Horat. Ep. 2. Lib. 2. 
— Magicos terrores, somnia, sagas,  
Nocturnos Lemures, portentaque Thessala rides?  
LONDON, Printed for Thomas Thornycroft, at the Eagle and Child, near Worcesterhouse in the Strand. 1668.   

The Actor's  

SIr Christopher Credulous— A Rich old Knight, father to Clarinda.  
Bellamy— In Love with Clarinda, and beloved by Celia.  
Endymion— Once a Pretender to Clarinda.  
Gratian— In love with Celia.  
Lewis Bernard— Friends to Endymion, and Gratian.  
Clarinda— Mistress to Bellamy.  
Celia— In Love with Bellamy, and beloved by Gratian.  
Fannie— A little x of Celia's.  
Beatrix— Clarinda's Chambermaid.  
Luce— Celia's Chambermaid.  
Lagripe— An old French man, a servant of Sr Christopher's.  
Rudeman Bellamy's Man.  
Shift Rawman— Two witty Knaves servants to Endymion.   
The Scene LONDON.   
THE ginger  

ACT. I.  
The SCENE, Lincolns-Inn-fields.  Enter Endymion, Bernard, Shift. End. 
HOw strangely does thy News perplexme, Shift?  
Art sure 'tis true?  Sh. 
Beatrix tells me so, and then I must believe it.  Bern. 
Is she your Oracle then?  End. 
But is it possible that my Clarinda should—  Sh. 
No, that it is not, she should ever love,  
You I mean; for there may be perhaps—  End. 
Nay, nay, I guess the reason of her scorn,  
She loves else where.  Bern. 
E'en like enough.  
She'd ne'er hold herself at so high a rate to you,  
Had she not other Chapmen.  Sh. 
I smelled some such thing in a certain Conference, I had with my Princess tother day; and had not her doting old Master come by i'th' nick and spoiled our sport, I was within two kisses of all her mistress's secrets.  Bern. 
Is Beatrix such a tell-tale?  Sh. 
Tell-tale, and Wagtail. Why, is she not a Woman? and is that Sex made for Privy Councillors? 'tis true, Chambermaids, I think take an oath of Secrecy as they do; and might do well to keep it too, as some of the others do: but alas!—  End. 
Saving your mock-Morals and mongrel-Comments  
On the whole Tribe, tell me of Beatrix, Sir,  
What of her? what says she?  Sh. 
What says she? why she says any thing; she can no more keep a secret than another woman, she is no more able to digest it; 'twill up Sir, 'twill up when occasion serves.  Bern. 
Let Shift alone to manage her Evidence,  
He'll pump her dry, I warrant you.  Sh. 
Sure enough: for whether it be my Person, my nimble dapper Person; or my Wit, my fooling Wit she's taken with, or talking humour, in which we most Sympathize, I know not: but I'm sure, I taste more of her kindness than you do of her Mistresses:  
However, our way of Love is nothing troublesome, 'tis free, and without any tie, we aim not at Hymen, we; as long as we like one another, so; when we are weary; so.  Bern. 
A pretty modern Method.  
But prithee tell me Endiminion, art not thou sick of thy Constancy? hast not loved Clarinda long enough? to every fair one you were wont to cry, I love you; and scarce a whole day loved the same.  Sh. 
And yet Clarinda now with all her scorn  
Has held him to't a Month;  
'Tis a strange Metamorphose in your Worship's humour.  End. 
I break custom, I confess it, for Clarinda's sake:  
Yet let it not amaze thee, Bernard,  
To see me burn so long in the same flames;  
For if Love at first made me her Servant,  
That Love is now to a Gaprichio vanished,  
A mere peevish obstinacy:  
Her want of complaisance for my Amours  
Is th' only reason why I haunt her now:  
Not that I value her person, but I take  
A pleasure in displeasing her; nor but  
By vexing her can I wipe off the shame  
This seeming Constancy would blast me with.  Sh. 
What a wrong sense I took you in all this while?  Bern. 
Why, you love her not then?  End. 
Not I, I thank my Stars.  Bern. 
Why do you visit her then? why write? why send?  Sh. 
What in the name of Madness maketh you  
That you are not in Love, play the fool, as those do that are?  Bern. 
Peevishness, I tell thee, mere peevishness;  
Had she, when first I courted her,  
With less severity welcomed my Affection,  
The fit had soon been over;  
And in my way of making love, to another  
ere this I had made offer of my heart;  
But to knit one's brow, and look wise so out of season,  
To fume and fret at every merry word,  
And pay with frowns instead of smiles  
A whole day together;  
Then do I make love in despite.  Bern 
Marry, you're a terrible Lover indeed!  Sh. 
I see 'tis dangerous for a Woman to have to do with you; why? would you have 'em love you whether they can or no?  Bern. 
Is it so unpard'nable a Crime not to make much of you, that the punishment must never have end?  Sh. 
But when will your Inconstance-ship get a new Mistress, and think of this no more?  End. 
As soon as thy dexterity has sifted out  
Who I am slighted for?  Sh. 
Why, for Bellamy perhaps  End. 
For Bellamy?  Sh. 
Yes, for that very Bellamy  
That has Courted her, you know, these Twelve Months  
D''ee laugh?  End. 
That were a fine Match indeed!  
Of all the gay men that frequent her  
I ne'er was jealous of him yet.  Sh. 
Why, he's a proper Gentleman, though but a poor one.  End. 
Clarinda is too proud to look so low  
A mind like hers on state and bravery set,  
Is with a Fortune not a Person taken;  
This Bellamy too has ever been her scorn.  Sh. 
What, if that were but a trick?  
A mere dissembling trick, to cousin the old Man?  End. 
They have more tricks than one then; for Bellamy  
A week since left the Town;  
Nay's shipped for France e'er this,  
And yet you'd have 'em smitten still.  Sh. 
There may be a trick in the Journey too, for—  Enter Beatrix. End. 
Peace, yonder's Beatrix, feel her pulse a little,  
Inquire, inquire how matters go; we'll step aside.  Sh. 
'Tis enough, I have my cue.  End. 
Let's give him opportunity.—  Ex. End. Bern. Beat. 
What art thou thinking of now?  In a melancholy posture, his Cloak about his face. Sh. 
Who I? I'm thinking of nothing.  Beat. 
What? in your dumps, when I come? when your Love comes?  Sh. 
My Love? I have no Love, not I;  
My Master loves no more, and I love no more neither.  Beat. 
In earnest, Shift?  Sh. 
Yes in good earnest, Beatrix.  Beat. 
What, wilt thou forsake me now?  
Thou canst not be so hard hearted sure?  Sh. 
But I can, and will.  Beat. 
This is but to try the constitution of my heart,  
And peradventure to morrow.  Sh. 
Nay, there is no peradventure, nor no to morrow;  
Is it not always like Master, like Man?  
Make thy Mistress love him, and then—  Beat. 
Thou must not request impossibilities at my hands,  
Likely things I would do.  Sh. 
Why? is Clarinda such a Love-hater?—  
Is she so inflexible?  Beat. 
Not so much; but—  Sh. 
But? but what?  Beat. 
My poor Shift, thou hast so often promised me.  Sh. 
Let us come to the But; go on with your story.  Beat. 
What should I tell thee?  Sh. 
Why Clarinda uses Endymion with such base neglect?  
And whether or no to love her still  
Be operam & oleum perdere?  
Thou mayst smell my meaning, for lamp-oil has a strong sent.  Beat. 
I could tell thee all this and more; but—  Sh. 
But what again?  Beat. 
I'm forbidden.  Sh. 
I'm glad o''at; she'll tell therefore.  aside. Beat. 
Yet if thou wouldst swear not to tell again—  Sh. 
Why I can be as silent as the silent woman;  
I'll be a dumb show; or the Chorus to't at least,  aside. 
I'll tell but all I see: judge by my taciturn aspect.  
I never tell but one thing at a time.  Beat. 
Thou wilt not tell then?  Sh. 
Not I; what I do not know.  aside. Beat. 
But swear to keep counsel.  Sh. 
By my shifting faith, ay will. Is not that well sworn?  Beat. 
Shifting faith? heyday! what faith's that?  
This is an oath of a new fabric sure,  
What anvil came it off? prithee didst thou forge it?  Sh. 
The faith of Shift is a shifting faith:  
But let not that stick with thee;  
Men shift their faith nowadays, as often  
As they did their Trenchers, when this old Cap was new.  
But to the point.  Beat. 
You must know then that Clarinda, my Mistress—  
But you must not tell your Master, Shift.  Sh. 
You would fain shift by your story,  
But 'twill not be: let me have it then, and quickly; for now I observe you better, I find by your simpering, and by the fumbling of your apron (that's a main sign) that if I long to hear it, thou dost e'en twitter to tell; leave your halting then before as very a Cripple as yourself, and come roundly to the business.  Beat. 
Why, I must tell thee then—  Sh. 
No Prefaces, nor Preambles.  Beat. 
That if thy Master be unkindly dealt with,  
The reason is Clarinda  Sh. 
Has another Love.  Beat. 
thouart e'en i'th' right on▪ t.  Sh. 
Well, his name, his name? go on.  Beat. 
Must you know more yet?  
You're very inquisitive into Women's matters.  Sh. 
I do not talk like a man-midwife? do I?  
His name, I say, his name?  Beat. 
Bellamy.  Sh. 
That poor Cavalier?  Beat. 
'Tis a noble complete Gentleman.  Sh. 
And with his complete Gentility  
Thy Mistress will send thee to market? yes, she may;  
But then must thou pawn thy coif and pinner,  
Or come home without Eggs and Butter.  Beat. 
She dot's on him, who can help it?  Sh. 
All the dotage is on her side belike,  
he'd ne'er leave her sure to go for France,  
Did he dote too.  Beat. 
That Journey on design is given out;  
But to speak truth, should he fall into the freebooters hands  
We were in some danger.  Sh. 
He's safe then, and on this side the sea?  Beat. 
Yea, and in London too, as I may tell you.  Sh. 
In London?  Beat. 
And ne'er was out on't.  Sh. 
Who the devil taught him to Romance so finely?  
To delude all the town, but Clarinda,  
And you their confiding Mopse,  
He has taken as solemn a leave  
As he had been going to Tangler, or to Tyburn.  Beat. 
By this means he sees Clarinda every night, by her appointment too, and has done this week: and while his friends pity him, and think him sea-sick, he's Land-sick, and Love-sick, good Gentleman. There's but small hopes, thou see st, for thy Master.  Sh. 
So me thinks.  
But is not your Lady afraid of the Lampon-makers?  
Has she a mind to be in a Ballad?  
There are some Women have had whole bundles made of'em  
Upon less occasion, (as they say themselves.)  
Hoard up smooth faces, keep 'em leiger in a garret all day  
To play at bopeep by night.  Beat. 
Alas! thou art too severe, to young Ladies especially;  
The nights the only time for their recreation:  
But we have a care of our ways,  
And make a Conscience of being taken in 'em,  
I'd have you know.  Sh. 
Just as the lacedaemonians did of pilfering.  Beat. 
Why 'tis not a blot till it be hit, Man.  
This nightwork is so contrived.  
That Bellamy steals into the garden by a backdoor,  
Which I leave open for him, and so to an arbour,  
Where she waits his coming.  Sh. 
An excellent Rendez-vous for a midsummer Moon,  
But this hot weather won't last always.  
Where shelters he all day?  Beat. 
At Gratian'S, as close as he that fears an Execution,  
And that's the reason too perhaps he gives his friend  
Of this concealment, for he's not of the Council,  
Nor should I have been, I think;  
Could they have carried businesses without me:  
But I am right necessary Woman sometimes.  
Fare thee well, give me thy hand;  Sh. 
Farewell, farewell.  Beat. 
Thou dost promise me, Shift?  Sh. 
Promise thee? what?  Beat. 
Marriage, an't shall please thee.  Sh. 
Go thy ways, I do; when we are at age.  Ex. Beatrix. 
Is this the honour they vapour with?  
This the reputation they are so shy of?  
How many are there of this deceitful sex,  
That wear Virtue enough all day,  
And lay it by at night with their black patch;  
And the rest of their superfluous ornaments?  
Has Clarinda her Love-qualms too? well, the  
Best of 'em have their failings, that I see.  
But now am I as overladen with this secret;  
Oh, how heavy it is? I shall shrink under the burden  
An I carry it any further; I'm sure I'm sick on't already.  To him again Endymion, Bernard. 
O here's my Master, he'll cure me.  End. 
Hast thou found out the reason of my disgrace?  
Is Clarinda engaged elsewhere?  
Is it pride, is it hate makes her so coy?  
What other Gallants has she? why dost not speak?  
Art deaf? or hast thou lost thy tongue?  Bern. 
Why stand'st thou making faces thus, and clutching thy fist?  End 
Why dost thou squeeze thy fingers so? speak.  Sh. 
O good Sir, let me alone.  End. 
Let thee alone? why what art doing?  Sh. 
You'll put me out now;  End. 
Put thee out? of what? th' art out of thy wits already sure.  Sh. 
Now was I striving all this while to hold my peace;  
I was bid; but the truth is, I am so far  
From doing as I was bid,  
That I'm e'en weary of striving already: hark you then  
That Spruce, Complete outsided Gallant, he that of all  
Her gay frequenters ne'er gave you Jealous pang,  
That very Bellamy, I told you of before,  
That gives out he's gone for France,  
By Clarinda's own contrivance is concealed at Gratian's.  End. 
Bellamy in town still?  Sh. 
As sure as you are; and see's her every night.  
Alas, he had no arrant into France,  
But to make an ass of your Worship,  
And that it seems he can do better at home.  End. 
One of 'em shall dearly pay for't though.  Sh. 
Why, what d'you mean to do?  End. 
Nay, I'm resolved, I'll to Clarinda again.  Sh. 
Oh poor Beatrix, you'll tell Sir now,  
And then is she undone for ever.  End. 
No, no, ne'er fear it.  Sh. 
What good will it do you to see her then?  End. 
I mean to laugh at her, and for a full revenge  
With deep protests will I renew my suit  
If slighted, i'th' same coin I'll pay her instantly,  
And give her scorn for scorn;  
A biting jest or two, and I am even with her.  
When she peceives my Vows were raileries,  
Which merely to divert myself I passed upon her,  
'T will shrewdly pinch her, that I'm sure of,  
For she that thinks she's fair indeed,  
Will ne'er endure to have been told so but in jest.  
But prithee the whole story of this fine Amouretta,  
Bellamy sees her every night, it seems.  
I cannot wish 'em joy yet heartily,  aside. 
There are some dregs of Love still lurking under my anger.  Enter Rawman. Raw. 
Lewis sir is here. End. 'tis well.  Sh. 
You shall know more anon.  End. 
Go thou, and warily sift out  
Of some Neighbour or so, if I may see Clarinda.  
That is whether—  Sh. 
I understand, you are afraid of the old Man,  
You would have him safe.  End. 
smiling. Th' art i' th' right  
That's a stumbling block must be removed.  Ex. Shift To them Lewis. Lewis. 
May a friend be partaker of your Mirth?  
Or know but whence it springs?  
Clarinda without doubt  
Has better thoughts of Love than she was wont,  
'Tis not an unbecoming weakness now, I hope,  
Y' have wrought a cure upon her, I see it in your looks.  End. 
Nothing less; she never was more aversed, nor I  
More lost to all hopes of ever being favoured by her.  Lewis. 
In what terms then must one condole your loss?  
Or with what Arguments.—  Bern. 
Nay, never set your Rhetoric o' th' Tenterhooks for the matter,  
Not quicken your invention with your nails,  
He can live without her.  End. 
I praise my manly temper.  
The loss Lewis I do not much regret;  
And wert thou fit for such a secret now—  Lewis. 
You do me wrong to doubt my keeping it.  End. 
I would acquaint thee with my whole Adventure:  
I have discovered how the Market goes,  
And see why I am not thought to bid fair,  
The scorns Clarinda heaped on me  
Were favours she obliged a Rival with;  
She's in love man, desperately in love  
See how the World's mistaken in her,  
And how groundless my pretensions are.  Lewis. 
Clarinda in love? versed with that subtlety too  
In his dissembling Maxims to carry it thus?  End. 
Nay, 'tis a wonder; she that stood upon her guard  
And kept us at such distance, to be taken?  Bern. 
She that set Love and Lovers at defiance,  
And seemed so scrupulously modest, that to name  
I ut Venus to her or Cupid, was talking bawdy.  Lew. 
But who's the lucky Woodman has struck this fair do?  End. 
That's the wonder of all wonders, Bellamy.  Lew. 
Away, away, now I see you jest.  End. 
It is a serious and a sober Truth, sir,  
A sad one too it might prove for some body,  
Had not I more discretion than all Lovers have.  Bern. 
The French journey's but a fiction, Man,  
A mere slight to make their meetings  
Private and unsuspected.  End. 
But see what a goodly choice she has made,  
What a happiness she refuses me for;  
A Man of no Fortune, Estate I mean,  
For luck he has enough to fool me;  
If 'twere wit he outdid me at,  
He'd do't above board, and by daylight.  Lew. 
You're misinformed, I'm sure on't;  
I know Clarinda better than so, besides Bellamy  
For another Beauty burns, though't flame not out.  End. 
For who?  Lew. 
For Celia.  End. 
Have you acquaintance with her?  Lew. 
Not much; this I know, she's a great Gallant,  
Lives in the Fields here, with a Widow-Aunt  
And is Courted by him; 'tis true, Gratitude  
As much perhaps as Love, may draw that Courtship  
For his engagements to the Lady are great,  
His bosom friend has told me all,  
One that were happy could your surmise prove true.  End. 
I go upon sure grounds, Beatrix is my Author,  
And not to tell you a secret by the halves  
He keeps close at a friends house of yours all day,  
At Gratian's-  Enter Gratian. Lew. 
See where he comes; give me leave, and I'll know all;  
He'll make no secret of't to me, I'm confident,  
Nor will I to you of what I learn from him.  Ex. End. Bern. Raw. 
What pensive still?  Grat. 
And miserable still.  Lew. 
What new misfortune causes this complaint?  Grat. 
'Tis an old grief mine, Lewis; how often  
Have I told you with what passion  
I burn for Celia, and with what violence  
Done to myself I do forbear all words  
That might disclose that passion a friend  
Is Rival in? judge of my misery then,  
For sure no torments equalise his pain,  
That dies for love, yet dares not once complain.  Lew. 
How out of season these respects are now?  
When Bellamy's absence gives you place;  
Take th' opportunity,  Grat. 
I'm ne'er the happier for a Rival's absence.  Lew. 
No? that's strange; but I hear, let me tell you,  
His French Journey's laid aside, nay, was ne'er intended.  Grat. 
Who tells you so?  Lew. 
Nay more, 'tis whispered he lies private at your house,  
ne'er seem amazed, but deal ingenuously.  Grat. 
I did not think it had been known abroad.  Lew. 
Not is it generally; but what is his design?  
Or what can he aim at by this stealth?  Grat. 
I never dived so far into his breast:  
I only understood it did concern his life,  
Or what was dearer than his life, his Love,  
To disappear some time:  
All I can guests besides, (and that  
But by some words he does drop forth by chance)  
Is, that some jealous thoughts disturb his mind,  
And that to try his Celia's real kindness,  
He spreads this feigned report of travel,  
That as his absence proves to this fair one  
Irksome or indifferent,  
He may see the power of Rivalling Pretensions.  Lew. 
'Tis hotly rumoured though he loves Clarinda.  Grat. 
That's the town-trick:  
Because he's young and courtly, Clarinda handsome,  
He cannot visit her, but straight  
He's thought in love; nay, though she be not  
Beyond common Civility regarded by him,  
Yet People need's will have him her Adorer.  
The news with Celia too has wrought so far,  
'thas cost her tears; but he in such persuasive terms  
Still vindicates his constancy,  
She cannot long believe him false.  Lew. 
Is she so much his then still?  Grat. 
Too faithful to him ever, too fond indeed:  
Though without taking leave he stole away,  
She seeks herself pretences to excuse him,  
And with such care does palliate his neglects,  
As stops my mouth, and frustrates all my hopes.  
While I (and that's my height of misery)  
To make him happy, court my own ruin,  
Visit her at his request, woo her for him,  
And improve each minute to discourse his Love,  
Fanning their heats thus, and childishly  
Playing in a flame that must consume me.  
She, with the very name of Bellamy ravished,  
To sit and chat of him entreats my visits:  
I must comply.  Lew. 
'Tis something a severe compliance.  Grat. 
Thus keep I still some interest in the family,  
And have access to her; and if by some  
Capriciousness of fate, which oft breaks kindest leagues,  
They chance to jar, she may perhaps reflect  
A faithful friend seldom proves faithless Lover.  Lew. 
I wish it may be so.  
But you'd be visiting this cruel fair one.  
May she with justice balance both your services,  
And then yours will be crowned.  Ex. Lewis. To him Celia, Fannie, Luce. Grat. 
See where she comes the fair Cause of all my grief;  
No more than let the fear of displeasing her keep it in,  
For though I should fall under her disdain,  
Her beauty is concerned I make it known  
Her eyes have captived her more slaves than one:  Cel. 
How happily do I meet you?  
Sure Bellamy is landed long ere this?  
A letter from Calais now me thinks, to make his peace.  Grat. 
Madam, I expect some by the French post.  Cel. 
Why writ he not from Dover? nay,  
From Canterbury, from Rochester, from Gravesend?  
Are they not all post-towns?  
Oh! I could have found twenty ways to send to him.  Fan. 
How well my Cousin knows the road?  
Yet I dare swear she ne'er was further  
That way, then Southwark-fair.  Lu. 
Oh this Love is a subtle teacher, Mris Fannie.  Fan. 
Has it taught you any thing, Luce?  Cel. 
Nay, I have reason to be angry with him,  
To steal away thus, and never bid adieu.  Grat. 
Thence you may judge how great his passion is,  
That fatal word, Adieu, had he but spoke it,  
Must have been his last; of so much beauty,  
So much kindness too, who without dying  
Could have taken leave?  Cel. 
I'm easily won, Gratian,  
To a favourable construction of all he does;  
My love indeed pleads for him still: and yet  
What ere the reason of his absence be,  
I might, me thinks, have been acquainted with it.  Grat. 
Nay, Madam, I excuse him not, he is too guilty;  
I know what courtesies he is indebted to you,  
With what a liberal hand you ever poured them on him,  
And that when—  Cel. 
No more of that, I pray;  
A Courtesy loses its merit if published once;  
Would I be minded oft, I did deserve  
He should forget it. Besides if I may  
Freely own the motive of those actions  
I pleasured myself most in obliging him,  
I did but justice to his fair desert:  
And yet I'll not acquit him neither, I'll think  
As you would have me more deservingly  
Of what I did; there's no gift though he's bound  
To me for, saving that of my heart, my  
Love I'd have requited, than all is paid.  Grat. 
That is the gift too he does value most:  
And that he might not all Ungrateful seem  
To the fair giver, when a necessity  
Sudden as unwelcome forced him from what he loved,  
He sought to leave you one half of himself  
Gratian, to fill his room.  
And friendship now making but one of us,  
If 'mong your discontents you reckon his absence,  
It shall be my care to supply his place;  
With tears and sighs I'll figure you his grief,  
And will (to act your Bellamy to th' life,)  
Forget I am not he; from the same Eyes  
I'll draw my warmth, with the same passions burn,  
And in this personated Love outvie—  Cel. 
Enough, enough: for I begin to fear  
Lest the pretence of speaking for another  
Should urge you further than a friends interest  
Usually does, friendship transports you, Gratian;  
Temper its heat a little.  Fan. 
A forward Proxy! he'd wed, and bed her  
For his friend, would she but let him.  Lu. 
But she's not so coming; though he  
Would fain take himself for Bellamy,  
She'll not mistake him so too.  Ex. Cel. Fan. Luce. Grat. 
My silence argued me remiss and slack,  
And venture at a word, I'm beaten back.  Exit.  

ACT. II.  
The SCENE, Lincolns-Inn-fields.  Enter Clarinda, Beatrix. Beat. 
BY my modesty, Madam, I'll keep your Counsel: Alas  
I stand in need of the like good office myself sometimes,  
And they that tell deserve to be told of, I say.  
Yet could I but understand what you drive at  
I might be more serviceable.  Clar. 
What account can I give thee?  
In such perplexity my mind's involved,  
I know not what I would myself.  Beat. 
You love Bellamy though,  Clar. 
Oh Wench I do.  Beat. 
And that's it puzzles me now, to see so high an affection  
Mushrom-like sprung up o'th' sudden, Bellamy  
Has courted you, and recourted you sighed & sobbed, again & again,  
Yet all would not do, you were as coy still and as calm,  
As nothing had been; nothing but frumps  
Could he get of you in a whole years' time,  
Nothing but No's, and I wi' not's, and I cannot's,  
And now in one week you're so strangely altered,  
As you were turned the wrongside outward;  
You're got into the loving extreme now.  Clar. 
Alas! I loved him all that while;  
Though knowing how much a Wealthy fathers bent  
Against Pretenders of so small a fortune,  
Set cold neglect and rigour in my eyes,  
While my heart e'en melted with hot love.  
This seeming cruelty had driven him into France,  
Could I have worn it still, but thou sawst me  
Beaten from that ward; and yield, though he  
Gave out he went, he should not go indeed.  Beat. 
Truly you're too be pitied: but what good  
Can this counterfeiting of a Journey do you?  Clar. 
His intentions for travel were too well known abroad,  
To have the Journey broken thus o'th' sudden;  
And sifting out the cause, perhaps  
Something o'th' truth of it might have been found.  
'Tis safer to keep close by day awhile,  
And then pretend some reason for's return.  To them Endymion, Shift. Beat. 
Endymion, Madam.  Clar. 
His importunity will ne'er have end.  End. 
Is it not just I quarrel with my Stars  
That I can never see you? will you keep home always?  
Must none enjoy you, but yourself?  
I shall grow jealous of yourself at last.  Cla. 
Home is most pleasing to me, and retired thus  
I see but what I like, and will myself;  
What moves you to press on my retirement?  End. 
Will you never take pity of my sufferings?  Clar. 
Bewail yourself some where else, I'm ignorant of your griefs.  End. 
Love.— Clar. Never name a Tyrant I abhor.  End. 
But a Lover that suffers.—  Clar. 
Leave out that name of Lover,  
There is such a discord in the sound, I hate it.  End. 
Unjustly though, methinks;  
For sure with fewer charms Nature does frame  
What she means not the object of our Loves.  Clar. 
Will you never leave this odious talk?  End. 
Will you be lovely thus, and cruel still?  
Oh what Flames do those Eyes kindle in my breast!  Clar. 
What aversion does this discourse beget in mine!  End. 
Heavens! how they sparkle? how many deaths  
They shoot, those Starlike twins?  Clar. 
Oh, I could hate the Sun, whose light I see you by.  End. 
The Moon indeed is something kinder to you,  
No doubt, but to her light  
You are beholding for a lovelier sight.  Clar. 
I understand you not.  End. 
You will not.  Clar. 
You think to fright me with this obscure discourse.  End. 
I can clear it, if I am put to't.  Clar. 
Nay, 'tis time to be gone then;  
I see you're angry, and might use me worse,  End. 
staying her Without hearing my reasons?  Clar. 
I care not for 'em:  End. 
But you must hear 'em though; 'tis a Love-suit  
I am concerned in, you shall be judge i' th' case;  
You've heard my Adversary at leisure,  
And ta'en perhaps some prejudice against my right;  
'Tis my turn now to have an Audience of you,  
Since he has it by night, I may well  
Claim one by day; not that I do expect  
A Garden door should be left jarred  
For me to slip in, nor Beatrix there  
Confidingly to watch, none interrupt my story;  
Much less that you yourself should wait  
My coming in an Arbour.  
Were I supposed in France, and yet in spite of Seas  
Could meet you at an hours warning, then indeed  
I might deserve a kindly welcome.  Sh. 
A pox on's memory! he has not left out a tittle,  to himself. 
What a speech has he made here?  
Could I find no body else to tattle too?  Cla. 
What have I heard?  Sh. 
Oh Sir! what have you done?  End. 
'Tis but a just revenge of her unjust  
And undeserved scorn.  Clar. 
to Be. Thou hast betrayed me,  Beat. 
Believe me, Madam.—  Clar. 
Away thou faithless wretch, thou hast sold me;  
Unhappy she, that trusts such mercenary souls.  Sh. 
to End. Now will poor Beatrix be turned away.  Beat. 
I would to Heaven you did not with your anger  
Avow yourself what I had still concealed,  
And this reproaching me did not confirm.—  Clar. 
Peace Impudence: justifying yourself?  Sh. 
to End. I had need of a good back now,  
'Twill all fall upon me.  End. 
'Tis past now, who can help it? but for my interest,  
For thine own, for Beatrix sake, for all; prithee Shift  
And thou canst, piece it up again; make any shift.  
Invent, Frame, Lie, Swear, anything, I'll second it.  Clar. 
Nay, 'tis resolved, ne'er speak on't more:  Beat. 
Well, I must pack then, since you'll have it so  
But may I now before your face, if ever I told tale.—  Clar. 
Oh, 'tis an innocent piece!  Sh. 
I have much ado sir, to make a good lie o'th' sudden;  
But this shall serve for want of a better.  End. 
Good or bad, let's have it; I'll help thee out.  Sh. 
And you turn me away to morrow sir, I will tell  
I'll speak the Truth in spite of all Masters, I:  To Clar. 
Madam, put up your anger, or turn it the right way:  To End. 
Nay, never wink on me, nor frown,  
Nor make me signs to hold my peace;  
Truth must be heard, and shall.  To Clar. 
Beatrix never betrayed your secrets,  
Nor does she prattle of your Love,  
The Stars, the Stars themselves discovered all.  Clar. 
What means the Fellow?  Sh. 
You don't believe me now?  
But I must tell you though, and you'll find it true too,  
That this Master of mine (as out of countenance as you see him)  
Has not stowage for his great Capacity,  
Nor the World his fellow in Astrology,  
The Man i' th' Strand was an Ass to him, when he was at best,  
He can make the Brazen head speak at this hour,  
Spirits he could raise Sans nombre  
And make them talk too,  
Till we were all weary of their company.  
If ever an Endymion slept in the Moon's lap,  
This is he, for he has as much familiarity with her,  
To my knowledge, as that comes to.  Beat. 
Thy Master an ginger?  Sh. 
ay, Twenty.  Beat. 
What Twenty Astrologers, and but one Man?  
Thou wilt tell a lie anon.  aside. Sh. 
I mean, he casts Figures, and raises Appearances  
As fast as Twenty;  End. 
This story'll cry me up for a fine fellow.  aside. To Sh. 
What sirrah? Sh. Yes sir.  Beat. aside. 
If she would but believe him now!  Sh. 
Nay, you are an ginger if ever man was:  
I know I lose my place, and forfeit my no small  
Arrears of wages too in discovering it,  
But I love Beatrix, Queen of Beatrixes.  
And aught to free her from the suspicion  To Clar. 
Her Mistress has conceived; he has made me mad  
This week with his Ovals and his Circles,  
He contemplates the Stars in nights so dark  
They dare not appear, and is staring abroad,  
When the dogs will not peep out.  End. 
Well said, Bull-dog!  aside. Sh. 
By Moonlight, by Owl-light, by any light,  
By no light; and in his Chamber  
Continually poring on a great black Book  
Full of pot-hooks of all sorts and sizes,  
The Inventory o' th' Devil's Kitchen, 'tis I think:  
And thus has he discovered your Amours  
But in what Devils name, or which leaf of the Book  
You're written in, truly that I cannot tell you yet.  Clar. 
This is a jesting Knave, and yet  aside. 
There may be some Truth in what he says too;  
Stranger things have been found out by that Art.  End. 
Why, thou everlasting prittle prattle!  
will't never have done? who has hired thee here  
To tell a story of a Cock and a Bull?  Sh. 
ay▪ I, Cocks and Bulls; those are some of your Familiars.  
Madam, I have not said a word, but what is true.  
I'll justify't, let him raise as many devils as he will,  
What I have said will shame 'em all.  Beat. 
Meaning, 'tis truth he has spoke;  aside. 
Which is not the least of his lies.  Sh. 
Did not you show me a Garden.  To End. 
Last night, in one of your enchanted Glasses,  
And bid me mark an Arbour to the West of that Garden?  
I know not West from East, not I;  
But I perceived it stood in one corner of the Garden,  
And marked it so well, I can tell you  To Clar. 
What 'twas made of too, of Lauretine.  Clar. 
There is such an Arbour i'th' Garden.  Beat. 
Yes Madam, there is indeed:  
God-a-mercy though, that he saw it once,  aside. 
When I took him into th' Garden,  
His Master's glasses had ne'er showed it him else.  Sh. 
But that you chiefly bade me observe,  
And were yourself so vexed at heart to see,  
Was the Lady Clarinda here sitting in that arbour;  
In a melancholy posture you were, I'll assure you, Madam,  
Thus with your hand supporting of your head,  
And looked, in my eye, as you had waited  
For something, made you think the time long ere it came;  
And so it proved indeed; for casting by command my eye  
To another side of the Mirror, I spied a Gallant  
Entered the Garden make straight up to the arbour,  
And saw your first salute; 'tis true, I could not  
Hear him what he said, (and by that I guess  
The devil's not so great with th' ears as with the eyes.)  
But I suppose he did excuse his coming late,  
And took such special notice of his garb,  
I'd know him in a crowd of Courtiers,  
Amongst clowns any one might discern him,  
I could describe his habit too for need—  End. 
Oh! you have said enough, Sir, you have said enough;  
And more than will stand with my credit, Madam,  
To have believed, I'm worse than an ginger then,  
He makes me conjure too: but since it is not  
For my honour now to hide the truth from you;  
I must confess that in my travels  
'Twas my fortune to grow intimate with a learned Man,  
Sometime a Scholar to the famed Nostredamus,  
Who took some pains with me, my aptness  
To his impressions making him with pleasure, as he said,  
Impart his secrets, nor knew he ought  
In Physiognomy, Palmistry, Astronomy,  
Nor hardly in all the Mathematics  
He read not to me; what ere belongs, I'm sure,  
To th' Optics or Mechanics he did disclose.  
Thus came my skill.  Sh. 
I never heard this so perfectly before.  Beat. 
I don't think thou didst.  End. 
But to own it publicly  
I know too well the disrepute 'tis in  
Amongst the Vulgar, too apt to give events  
(Whose cause their dull capacity cannot reach)  
To the black Art, and think the devil author  
Of all subtleties above 'em; which makes my man  
Talk of familiars, and take (dull brain!)  
Our Optic glasses for enchanted one's.  Sh. 
Besides the wrong some late Professors too  
Have done that art, by prostituting it  
To men in power.  End. 
A servile flattery!  Sh. 
Made him more cautious in such times as those,  
When it was dangerous not to be base,  
How he seemed knowing.  End. 
But tired out at last with  
Your too rigorous usage, your servants all  
Too trusty, or too ignorant to betray me  Beat. Curtsies. 
The cause on't;  
I was resolved to find it out myself  
In that great book, where truth's so fairly writ  
For those have studied the bright Character:  
I did consult the stars,  
I found the garden, and the arbour too,  
Bellamy's real happiness, and supposed absence.  
But let not this discovery trouble you,  
For my own interest I must keep your Counsel,  
Our fortune is the same, 'tis but one secret for another,  
My Man has told you mine, I found out yours,  
Keep you but one of 'em, and I warrant you for the other.  Beat. 
'Tis an able Man, I promise you!  Sh. 
You'll believe me another time, I hope,  to Clar. 
I was i'th' right, you see.  Beat. 
The truth, I trow, does justify me now, Madam.  
I had heard it muttered indeed, he took upon him  
To tell fortunes, interpret dreams, or so;  
And could have made Almanacs too, for his skill,  
But that he thought it a discredit to his youth,  
To grow weather-wise so soon: but I had sold you,  
I had betrayed you, I; he knew all from me.  Clar. 
Truth, I was loath to suspect thee,  
I had no former grounds for't;  
Had it not been for his Astrology though,  
What could he have known, unless I had been betrayed.  Beat. 
You may, remember too, if any Incredulity remain,  
How much my old Master talks of Astrology,  
And what feats he was wont to do in's youth,  
As he tells us, by the Virtue of Mars and Venus.  Clar. 
My father talks much of Astrology indeed,  
What I have heard from him, helps to persuade,  End. 
Thou couldst not pitch upon a quainter fancy.  aloud having whispered Sh. 
'twas extempore, Sir, remember that,  
And may give some small hint of my faculty;  
A little premeditation had afforded you a better.  End. 
It needs not, this fable is as currant with her.  Sh. 
Nay, she is finely fooled; you shall  
Have her in such a suppliant Style now,  
She's sore afraid of you, I see by her eyes.  Clar. 
Noble Endymion, whose clear-sighted mind  
Is only parallel to your generous heart.  Sh. 
Did I not tell you?  End. 
Hear her Apology.  Clar. 
A slighted Lover's anger I should fear,  
Were the excuse I am now to make you,  
Due to any other, but you that know  
The Influence of the stars, and force of destiny,  
Will not deem it a Crime in me, to act  
What they decree: when great ones can't eschew  
What they portend her, what should weak women do?  Beat. 
Peace, peace, your father's coming,  
Your father's coming; 'tis his hem.  End. 
Would he would hem some where else,  
We did not want him here.  To them Sr Christopher Credulous. Sr Chr. 
Now, what's the business with this young Gallant?  Clar. 
'Tis Curiosity, Sir, I must confess;  
I heard not long since by a friend of mine,  
He was most knowing in Astrology,  
And having by her means wrought his acquaintance,  
A Maiden-longing, which I blush to own,  
Made me now question him 'bout my husband's name,  
And when I should be married.  
I'll try your skill though for once good Mr ginger.  aside. Beat. 
The old man will have him into the Star-chamber presently.  aside. End. 
She doubts my science, & sets him on to make trial of't to Sh.  
I le bear up bravely, and 't shall go hard,  
But I'll beat that old tired Cock out o'th' pit.  Sr Chr. 
Are you a fortune-teller? d'ye make Almanacs? hah!  Sh. 
Montelions' perhaps, or so.  Sr Chr. 
He's the sprucest truly o'th' trade, I ere yet saw.  Enter to them Lewis, Bernard. They stand aside with Shift, who tells them what has passed between his Master and Clarinda. End. 
How rudely the man begins? this is no fair disputant.  Sr Chr. 
What does he tell thee troubles thee thus?  End. 
I told her, Sir, of some hard fortune, which  
By th' malign aspect of an inauspicious Planet  
I find her threatened with.  
She takes it somewhat to heart, as you see.  Sr Chr. 
Thou art too blame, thou art too blame  
To be so much concerned.  
In so short a time what could you discover?  End. 
That she's decreed  
To make the fortunes of a younger Brother,  
Or some such wanting Gentleman;  
For he whom she's to marry  
Is rich in person only, and a comely mine.  Beat. 
Who would not think he spoke truth now,  aside. 
He delivers himself with such confidence?  
The good Gentleman out-lies his man,  
Foils him at his own weapon, Impudence.  Sr Chr. 
Fear it not upon such slight grounds,  
'Tis but one Doctors, opinion, I warrant you.  Clar. 
I would I had not heard it though;  
The Prediction has made strong impressions on me.  
Would it did so on you too, that you might be persuaded  aside. 
There were no remedy, but I must have Bellamy,  
The fine wanting Gentleman he points at.  Sr Chr 
My Daughter meat for younger Brothers?  
Fear 'em not I say again, let me alone  
To stave them off, and wanting Heirs are as bad to me  
As a poor Cadet, I'll beware of them too.  Clar. 
Endymion, though that reads my destiny thus,  
Is a knowing Man, Father, one never yet mistaken,  
Nor ever saw he, as he protests  
The Stars on any one Event fixed so unanimous;  
This would work, I think, on any one,  
It falling so right with my own desires.  aside. End. 
She takes more pains to delude her Father,  aside, 
Then I did to gull her: I shall be an ginger  
At this rate, whether I will or no.  Sr Chr. 
Many Men have employed all their Lives  
In this Study, and yet died short  
O' th' excellence of it too; and how this Man  
Should arrive at the height of it so young,  
I wonder much, I promise you.  Beat. 
It is with Scholars, I have heard, Sir,  
As with Travellers; not always he that first sets forth,  
But he that takes the nearest way, gets soonest home.  Bern. 
And what of him that's best horsed?  Lew. 
He outrides his fellows.  Bern. 
Why, thou art a parcel wise Man too.  Sir Chr. 
Certes Astrology is a noble Science,  
Worth th' application of ingenious minds!  
If you are such a Master of her secrets,  
Few that pretend to th' name come near  
Deserving it so well; all men  
Are not fit for speculation now adays,  
Youth especially, is all on Action bent;  
So young therefore, and so learned, deserves  
All Honour and Applause; and I am heartily yours.  
I ever was affected to Men of merit,  
A lover of Learning always, I:  
And to speak truth, in my younger days  
I was a dabbler this way too, myself;  
But marrying too soon, marred my Study,  
My Wife burned all my Books, and I soon fell  
From casting Figures, to cast up accounts;  
Domestic care, Lawsuits,  Beat. 
And good-fellowship too a little.  Sr Chr. 
Kept me from excelling▪ but tell me Sir, I pray;  
Are not those Planets (Mars and Saturn excepted)  
Of the happiest influence, whose Parallels are the greatest?  
How like you Mercury beholding Venus,  
With a trine Aspect? or, what think you,  
Of the same Mercury in conjunction with Hecate?  End. 
The Man speaks Hebrew sure;  
And he would take his answer in Gibberish now,  
'Twere some thing:  Lew. 
Here are words as able to fright away an Ague,  
As Voiture's Abracadabra  Sh. 
He had need be an ginger now indeed  End. 
I'll have one push for't.  Bern. 
Hark, he has provided an answer  End. 
to Sr Chr. Those Planets I account the happiest, none excepted,  
Whose influence on Man and Woman pour down  
What each desireth most.  Lew. 
Learnedly answered!  End. 
Venus, you know yourself, (but that you're pleased  
To try my younger skill;) to Lovers does presage all bliss,  
As Mars has a kindness for the Men of War;  
Saturn is powerful with the Saturnians:  
Marry, if Mercury eye Venus once,  
There are Cuckolds made i'th' City:  
Some false Dice▪ may be abroad too,  
For he was a wag both ways, you know.  Sr Chr. 
But what if with a trine Aspect, what then, Sir?  End. 
That's worst of all, Sir; then are the Cuckold-makers at work  
In City, Court, and Country: if with a trine Aspect,  
Then let all Men look to their Wives,  
Their handsome Wives especially.  
Oh, 'tis a Cornuting Constellation!  Sh. 
And governs this Cornuting age.  Beat. 
I never heard why we had so many Cuckolds before.  Sr Chr. 
Indeed, indeed, law-Daughter, I would  
He had told thee thou shouldst have  
A rich old Knight, or some Alderman;  
For sure enough he had reason for what he said,  Beat. 
No question but he had, though neither she,  aside. 
Nor you, know what reason  Sir Chr. 
But what of the Conjunction, Sir,  End. 
Of Mercury with Hecate?  
I have much ado to speak the Goblin-words after him,  aside. 
It is a very critical one.  Sr Chr. 
Is it so? is it so? indeed?  End. 
Have at him now with down right nonsense.  aside. 
To Sr Chr. The Triplicity of it, as well as the Union  
Of Hecate with Mercury, being Retrograde,  
Or in combined Aspects, in the Horizon  
Of a cross Ascendant, on such weak brains  
Might paralax at last.—  Sir Chr. 
You're too high for me, I promise you;  
This is all out of my reach; if you would descend  
To somewhat a more vulgar and intelligible phrase.  End. 
These are terms of Art, Sir.  
I thought I should pose you.  aside. Sr Chr. 
Pardon my age, Sir; 'tis so long since I  
Broke Correspondence with the Art, the terms  
Are as strange to me now, as I ne'er had heard 'em;  
And methinks too, they hardly were in use  
When I was at the University:  
But time that altars us, will alter Science too,  
It has a daily increase, though we decay,  
And other Countries may have other Methods.  End. 
Of late years, Sir, in the Mathematics  
There are great alterations, they erect Schemes  
A new way now, and have new names  
Belonging to the Horoscope, Nostradamus' himself,  
Whom my Master followed, had his terms  
And rules apart, wherefore the phrase  
I'm studied in, may well seem strange to you.  
But Schoolmen are like Carriers-horses; We plod on  
In our old pad; like us, or understand us, who will.  Sir Chr. 
Do you so? do you so? That's something strange methinks,  
Yet amongst friends, you might vouchsafe, Sir, to be understood.  To them Lagripe. Lagripe. 
To Sr Chr. A word vis your Vorship.  They whisper. Sr Chr. 
How now? what's the matter, Lagripe?  Sh. 
You claw it away with hard words.  End. 
Thou seest, I sweat for't;  
But for a friend now at need, relieve me  
With an errand, or find some trick or other  
To take off this old Lover, of he knows not what  Sr Chr. 
Your Pardon, Sir, it is an earnest business,  
I should not leave you else, I'm e'en full loath as, 'tis,  
For I did long to understand those new terms,  
That I did: but we shall meet again  
And discourse these learned Mysteries, we'll try  
Some Mathematical experiments too;  
Nay, I have some Secrets worth your knowing:  
But farewell farewell for this time.  Ex. Sir Chr. Clar. Beat. Lagripe. End. 
I had rather believe you, then stand to sift 'em out.  
I'm rid of him without thy help at last.  to Sh. 
Lewis, Bernard, I have had the finest adventure,  
The prettiest part put upon me.  Lew. 
Shift has made us laugh at it already,  Bern. 
We stood aloof off all the while, and heard  
How astrologically the old man questioned you:  End. 
And as Astrologically I answered him, I hope:  
But he could not follow through the houses of the Sun  
The pace I led him, he lost sight of me presently.  Bern. 
You did not vanquish him fairly, he understood you not.  End. 
It had been much he should,  
When I did not understand myself.  Lew. 
'Tis fit you take some pains in both,  
He'll expect an expounding visit.  End. 
Bless me from undesigned Encounters,  
Such as this day's; and if by my good will  
I visit him, let him plague me with nonsense;  
Let him retaliate, and spare not.  Bern. 
D''ee mean to trade in nonsense still?  
A great Astronomer, or one taken for such—  End. 
he'll quickly find how I played upon him,  
For what questions did he put to a Man,  
That knows neither Signs nor Planets?  Lew. 
With your bold answers you so malled him though,  
He's yet well stunnied, and with as much ease  
I durst wager, you'll foil him next encounter.  Bern. 
Give him t'other fall, complete your Victory,  
'Tis for the credit of learning  
The work be not left imperfect.  Lew. 
We'll be the trumpet of your fame,  
And sound your skill throughout the town.  Bern. 
What think you of posting up bills?  
As others of the profession do.  Sh. 
And give some at the Playhouse doors  
As they do for a match at the Bear-garden.  Bern. 
Or get him put into the Gazette  
By way of Advertisement for the public good  
Of what a Mine of Learning is discovered.  Lew. 
Either will convince the old knight,  to Bern. 
And if besides, by strangers we shall have prepared,  to End. 
Th' amazing rumour of your daily wonders  
But reach his ear, as I'll be sure it shall;  
Being full already of this first interview,  
He'll be so gulled, as ne'er old dotard was.  End. 
That I believe; but this fine pastime  
Venture's me a little too far;  
You consider not the danger may ensue,  
Engaging thus my credit, and my quiet too; for 'twill  
Draw all the curious fools o'th' town about my ears.  Bern. 
So we shall know how full the town is of fools,  
And should they find, you're but a counterfeit,  
'Twill pass but for a trick of youth at worst.  End. 
What sport soever we may fancy thus,  
It cannot last long; for if it be  
So generally bruited, I shall have questi ns  
Put me hourly, and then my answers.  
Must doubtless get me great repute.  Bern. 
What matter? you'll answer as other Pretenders do,  
Sometimes I, sometimes no; be it favourably,  
Or fatally; have some respect to age and sex,  
And for the rest, happy be lucky.  Sh. 
A fortune-teller never warrants any thing;  
You answer not upon oath, Sir; and than you know,  
One may strain a little, without venturing ears.  Lew. 
In Astrology the best of 'em does as much  
By chance as skill: 'tis mere hab-nab.  Sh. 
What if you throw Cross or Pile, whether you say,  
I, or no. or tell your buttons, I, no; I, no:  End 
There are ways indeed.  Sh. 
Why, 'tis an even lay, you hit right either way,  
When there is but a right and a wrong in the case.  Bern. 
Have I not read of a judge was swayed by  
Cast of Dice in trials of Life and death?  Sh. 
The high fulloms saved some, the low hanged the rest.  Bern. 
Right.  Lew. 
This remember; never to affirm any thing  
With certainty, with what is past or present  
Be very cautious how you meddle,  
'Tis as dangerous in this Profession  
As speaking treason; o'th' future itself  
Speak but obscurely neither, to your Consulters'  
'Twill pass for learnedly, they must  
Allow you to be i'th' clouds a little.  Bern. 
Let your Answers be like Oracles, wondered at,  
Not understood, foretell more good fortune  
For the most part then bad,  
That will send 'em away pleased at least:  Sh. 
And in that good humour they'll remember  
Your poor servants; our Wages may be earned this way.  End. 
Thou Mercenary fool.  To them Gratian. Lew. 
Here's Gratian; be gone,  
we'll begin with him, he's credulous.  End. 
I leave it t'ee, Gentleman;  
Manage the device as you will yourselves,  
Come Shift.  Ex. End. Sh. Lew. 
Who would have thought it?  taking no notice of Grat. Bern. 
Who can well believe it yet?  Lew. 
'Tis strange.  Bern. 
'Tis beyond imagination.  Grat. 
How is it with you, Gentlemen?  Lew. 
We hardly know ourselves;  
We are wrapped in such a cloud of Wonders;  Bern. 
Most miraculous!  Grat. 
May not I know what? I would fain wonder too.  Lew. 
I fear lest—  looking about him. Grat. 
You need not; here's none to overhear us.  Lew. 
But it requires a secrecy.  Grat. 
Trust me.  Lew. 
Endymion declared even now,  Grat. 
Declared? what?  Bern. 
And did before our face things so incredible  
Almost to eye-witnesses, I'm loath to speak 'em.  Grat. 
What did he do?  Lew. 
I never met with, nor indeed heard of his fellow.  
He is so highly knowing in Astrology,  
And shows his skill in practices so admirable,  
I could suspect he conjured.  Bern. 
He told me passages of my life, and almost in an instant,  
Which without Enchantment, I know not  
How he should discover: yet all he did,  
Was by Conjectures from my palm and face,  
And certain figures drawn o'th' sudden;  
For he is also a Chiromancer, and a Physiognomist.  
Who could imagine, seeing him so spruce, so gay?—  Grat. 
Is it not Endymion the Wit, that traveled Monsieur,  
Whose Gallantry and Conversation are so much cried up:  
He's of the Society too, I think.  Lew. 
Yes, yes, an eminent member: he has some rare secret sure  
Which other Artists are not yet arrived at.  Grat. 
I ever took him for a well-willer  
To the Mathematics indeed; Some twice or thrice,  
I think, I have conversed with him,  
And found him then, both by his Countenance and discourse  
An ginger, I will not say,  
For that great knowledge he took care, belike,  
To hide from all, but bosom friends;  
But a person of sharp wit and excellent understanding  
I clearly saw he was;  
A Man addicted too to curious sciences.  Lew. 
What will you say, if I carry you with me  
Some day, that he has undertaken  
To show me a Beauty, had some kindness for me  
In Paris? the French Mistress you've heard me speak of.  Grat. 
Is't possible he can?—  Bern. 
That's nothing to what he can do.  
He made a Picture speak before us,  
And that's the Cause of this astonishment.  Grat. 
May I believe this?  Lew. 
You have both Eyes an Ears, will you believe them?  Grat. 
Dear Lewis, make me better acquainted  
With this rare Man; he▪ l tell me  
Whether Bellamy be jealous, or no; and why.—  Lew. 
I have enquired that out for you already:  
He meets Clarinda by night, and abuses Celia.  Grat. 
He does go out by night indeed  Lew. 
And to that purpose; never doubt it.  Grat. 
I'm overjoyed, if it be so.  Lew. 
But not a word, dear Gratian, as you love me,  
Of Endymion; he would be Lammed  
If what we know were spread abroad.  Bern. 
Here's one i'th' snare already.  Ex. Lewis, Bern. Grat. 
Endymion an Astronomer, and Bellamy faithless!  
Love give thee thanks, th' opportunity's a fair one;  
I le straight to Celia, there I'll boast his Art,  
By which, (if Love and I can make her bold enough)  
She may discover how she is abused.  
Then dispossessed  
Of the fair thoughts she holds of this false Man,  
Her heart for me becomes an easy prize.  
Nor can he tax me with a breach of trust  
That to his Mistress is much more unjust,   

ACT. III.  

The First SCENE, Endymion 's Lodgings.  Enter Endymion, Lewis, Bernard, Rawman, Shift with a Satchel at his back. Lewis. 
FAmous Astronomer, most admired Genius,  
You that are now the only Town-talk grown,  
As never plot was half so well contrived,  
So never any yet took as this does▪  Bern. 
No Man, but is persuaded of your skill,  
No Man, but with respect does gaze upon you;  
And it some cross accident spoil not the sport,  
You will be taken for a Prophet shortly.  End. 
And to preserve that good opinion, Sir,  With a Book in's hand. 
See, I lose no time.  Sh. 
Witness my burden here.  Setting down his Satchel. Lew. 
Why, what hast thou got there?  Raw. 
His Worship's Library.  Sh. 
I think I may be worthy to carry  Gives 'em two or three Books. 
Books after him, as famous a Man as he is.  Lew. 
A lilly's Almanac.  Bern. 
And a wharton's.  Sh. 
There's the Pro and Con  
That will make him a good Disputant.  Lew. 
Wings Ephemerideses! I marry Sir,  
Here's an Airy Author indeed.  Sh. 
My Master soars as high as the loftiest of 'em.  Bern. 
You know the houses of the Sun, I hope, by this.  Sh. 
As well as any man here does Coffeehouses or Bawdy-houses.  End. 
Peace Scurrility; that he had houses I knew before:  Raw. 
I ever held him a mighty Prince,  
And did believe he was well lodged.  End. 
But now I know his Risings and his Setting too, Heliack, Cosmick, and Acronick; the number of the Spheres, both Tropics, that of Cancer, and of Capricorn, the Arctic and Antartick-Poles, the Parallels, Ecliptick-line, the Climate, Point-Vertical: and what not.  Sh. 
Nay then, I'll lay aside this superfluous Learning,  
He has enough without book.  Carries in the Satchel and returns. End. 
Alas Sir, Mercury in conjunction with Hecate.  
Or beholding Venus with a trine Aspect,  
Thanks to my Almanac here, is not Hebtew now,  
'Tis but a labour, though of memory yet,  
My Judgement is not much improved,  
And I must shun Sir Christopher a while;  
But what progress have you made with the Pageant?  Lew. 
A fair one, I think, for the time,  Bern. 
Such as you'd laugh to trace us thorough.  Lew. 
My first station was to a house where I  
Was sure I should meet company, and of  
The best; a kind of Lady-ordinary,  
Where they were beasting it, for that game's in  
Fashion still, though Hombre be more Courtly.  
To th' standers by, I whispered first my news,  
Than 'mongst the Bettors it began to spread,  
At last it wrought the Gamesters too, and found  
Even amongst the loser's such concern,  
They could sit still, and question me about you;  
They must play on though, but they were so full  
of Signs and Planets, that in stead of Play  
A Madam cried out Venus, and a Man  
Of War for Counter, straight cried Mars.  End. 
I fear 'twas I beasted her.  Lewis. 
When I saw 't work so well, I left 'em, and to th' play;  
Where to disseminate my story best,  
I'th' pit, I whispered it from ear to ear;  
And thus confidingly it spread so well,  
That by the end it was in every mouth:  
Going out, (I laugh still at the conceit)  
A friend rounds me i'th' ear with my own lie,  
Which with so many oaths he vouched for truth,  
I made some scruple not to believe him.  End. 
A most excellent progress!  Lew. 
Is it not?  End. 
But prithee Bernard, where hast thou preached me up?  Bern. 
To Court, I; for that's the staple of news.  Raw. 
I'll see what they say of my Master at the Bakehouse,  
For that's my staple of news.  Ex. with Shift. Bern. 
But peeping by the way into th' Exchange,  
I met with one did lie for you the heartiliest,  
Relating twenty monstrous things y' had done,  
To which he swore himself a witness too:  
Some five or six had hemmed him in,  
And hung upon his tongue, his lying tongue,  
With an attention great as his impudence;  
I harkened too a while, (then to try his mettle)  
Took on me to contest some points he had averred:  
But he, full fraught with wrath and indignation;  
I speak but what I' ve seen, and you perhaps  
Gain-sayed for want of knowledge of the person,  
Or else you envy men of worth and parts.  
When I, seeing him so fierce, for fear of being beaten,  
E'en sneaked away to laugh at him at leisure.  End. 
What impudent fellows there are about this Town?  
Travellers and Falk oners are modest to this vapouring, Sir,  
'Twere an excellent Genius to write Diurnals;  
Is he not something a kin to old Politicus, think you?  Lew. 
He would out-lye him some furlongs  Bern. 
Novelty has its Sectators every where  
As gross lies pass for currant truth daily.  Lew. 
They did indeed.  End. 
But why balked you Grays-Inn-walks, the Coffee- (houses or some sage Club.  
There your grand News-mongers confer.  Lew. 
Retailers of grave, serious lies, they:  
But mine was for the young, the gamesome ones.  End. 
And with what credit they receive it!  Bern. 
Were I sure, lying would always thrive thus,  
I'd make a vow never to speak truth more.  End. 
But at Court, Bernard.  Enter Shift, Rawman. Sh. 
A Lady, Sir, a handsome Lady too,  
though her hoods hide part of her beauty,  
Would fain have you to herself a while.  End. 
To herself? why, what would she do with me?  Sh. 
Was that a fit question for me to ask?  
As if they would tell servants,  
What they do with their Masters;  
They are not so immodest, I hope.  Raw. 
Some of their stories would make me blush.  
But this Lady looks with some honesty,  
And desires to speak with you in private.  End. 
Wait on her in.  Ex. Sh. Raw. 
Step you two into that drawing room a little.  
If there were some Astrology i'th' visit now.  Lew. 
I hope 'tis the ginger the Lady makes it to.  
You want such Visitants.  Bern. 
You must wittily and boldly chiause two or three,  
And then you'll be in Vogue indeed.  End. 
What ere it be from hence you may observe us.  Ex. Lewis & Bernard. Enter Celia, Fannie, Luce, Shift, Rawman. Cel. 
Are you not surprised at the confidence of such a visit?  End. 
I'm honoured with it, Madam, beyond measure honoured.  
Beshrew me 'tis a fair Lady indeed, a very fair one.  to Sh. Sh. 
I hope, Sir, I han't so little skill in beauty,  
But you may take my word for a good face.  End. 
Trust me, I do not see a better.  
How may I serve you, Lady? how may I deserve  
The pains you've taken thus, to find me out?  Cel. 
To see Endymion I would have done more;  
With such impatience did I long to be  
Acquainted with the Genius of the age;  
The learned'st Man our England ever bred.  
Oh Luce! I tremble; I shall never have courage  
To utter what I come about.  Lu. 
What need you speak at all? he can understand you  
By signs and tokens, as well as he were deaf and dumb.  End. 
Madam, I want expressions to return  
A Compliment so ill-deserved, 'tis true  
I have some slight tincture of knowledge, but—  Cel. 
Nay, nay, your modesty is fruitless, I know your abilities.  End. 
This esteem is too obliging, Lady; but could I serve you,  
I should value myself too.  Cel. 
Oh Endymion!  End. 
What means that sigh?  Cel. 
You might save me the shame of being truchman to't.  Sh. 
She's in love w'ee.  End. 
By my Astrology I would she were,  
On condition I had forfeited all my Interest in the stars.  Cel. 
The knowledge you're so envied for  
Of my desires cannot leave you ignorant.  Sh. 
'Slid, would you have her make love t'ee downright?  
And she'd say but half as much to me,  
I'd understand her, I warrant you:  
You're the strangest Man.  Raw. 
So you would have had her-a-told us her errand too:  
Yes, I warrant you.  
Women love to do that they won't say;  
Some pretty things have but course names.  End. 
By that very reason, Lady, that you give  
For your silence, you ought to speak your mind;  
If I know a'ready what brings you hither,  
Your free declaring it to me ought not  
Add any thing to your confusion.  Sh. 
Excellently well argued! what fending & proving here is?  
He's cried up for a wit, and the Wench  
Will laugh at him for a fool, a dull one.  Raw. 
I had best talk to her for the credit o'th' house.  
That she may see there's some quickness  
Of apprehension i'th' family, some feeling left.  Cel. 
What can the hearing of my weakness avail you?  
You know the languishing desires I'm pressed withal,  
My coming t'ee, my standing thus before you,  
Thus blushing and discountenanced, does speak my mind;  
Use me not then with so much cruelty, but since  
Bashfulness hinders me naming my request,  
Do what I would have you, without my saying what.  Sh. 
Pray do, Sir, without more bidding.  Cel. 
I see, you are not free to strangers, Sir,  
I could have made an Interest you would not have refused  
Any courtesy the stars make you Master of.  End. 
'Tis clear now; some Astrological question  
She has to put me.  Sh. 
You're e'en well enough served, an't be,  
That would not understand her other meaning.  Ram. 
She'I shift her arrant now, and invent something  
To plague you with, I hope.  Sh. 
Would she had made Shift her arrant,  
She had sped better.  Raw. 
Very likely.  End. 
Is she mad, to expect I should know her thought?  
Am I a Magician, or am I the devil himself to do't?  Sh. 
If it be Astrology, some bombast words  
She cannot understand, will quickly put her out of play,  Fan. 
Unmannerly fellows, they are these Conjurers,  
They will not satisfy a Lady without so much entreaty.  Lu. 
I'Id e'en leave him, Madam, and go to another▪  
What little pied devil's that, whispers with him?  Cel. 
'Tis his Man.  Lu. 
His Zany, his Jack-Pudding;  Fan. 
'Tis some quack this, I warrant you, some Mountebank.  Cel. 
Peace, he comes towards us.  Raw. 
Wrap your Answer in Fustian, Sir, 'tis a warm wear,  
And will look gravely.  End. 
Not to belie my science, Madam, or uncivilly pretend  
An ignorance, you'll not believe me guilty of,  
I must confess, 'tis easy scrutiny for me  
To dive to th' bottom of your heart, and read  
What's most abstruse.  Cel. 
D''ee see now? I knew he could tell.  to Luce & Fan. End. 
Yet 'twere in vain I should Endeavour aught  
For you, unless by a Declaration  
Free and sincere, you testify  
Your sull consent to what I go about;  
You would try my skill first; but take heed this  
Diffidence you shroud with modesty,  
Do not impede the compass your wish;  
A Frank confidence, a strong credulity  
Is required in those apply themselves  
To such as I am for relief; my art's  
Beyond the Vulgar of Judiciary Astrologers:  
Which clearly to evince, I will (if you  
Desire it) tell you what your thought is, now,  
This very minute; what brought you hither,  
Whether your heart be free, or if engaged,  
To whom, how long you've lived so; or what else  
You think or wish most secret: but this done,  
No more; I can do nothing for you then.  Cel. 
How I shall blush at this recital, you  
Condemn me to?  Fan. 
I'd tell him nothing, and 'twere to me;  
Are you sure he'I keep your counsel?  Cel. 
What do I save by that, when he can know't however?  
I love, Endymion; and he that captives me,  
Having by Amorous duties won my heart,  
Forsakes me then to travel into France,  
So scornfully, he never takes his leave;  
This Letter though I have just now received,  
As kind as he was wont to be himself,  
Which new assurance of his love, makes me  
Passionately now wish his return;  
I burn to see him, and though what I long for  
Seem impossible, yet am I well assured  
To you 'tis so facile, you may this night  
Feast my sad Eyes with that beloved sight.  
If ever Love then warmed your youthful heart,  
As your own flames may kindle mutual fire,  
Deny not my request.  End. 
Here's a request with a vengeance,  
Would gravel all the Conjurers of the Realm.  Sh. 
It had been as easy, I should think now,  
Taking her up at her first weapon,  End. 
I how dost run on still with thy own conceit,  
And never thinkst of helping me out of the mire.  Sh. 
Shall I fetch Charles his Wain to draw you out?  Raw. 
And yoke Phaebus' horses to't,  
That the Teem may be strong enough.  Sh. 
Call upon Nostradamus', Sir, he was your Master, 〈…〉 (removed  
He's bound to help you for his own credit.  End. 
The old Man with his hard words was not half so terrible.  Raw. 
Tell her, she must make a pact with the Devil,  
That will scare her.  End. 
I know not, Madam, who you take me for,  
Nor what you may imagine of my Art,  
For where is't like that I this night should find  
A Man, that you yourself tell me's in France?  Cel. 
That's a matter of nothing to you,  
You do things more prodigious hourly,  
I know that, to make one long since deprived  
Of life, both speak and move, is slight  
And easy t'ee; I have it, from good hands.  Raw. 
No doubt but you have; and I durst have sworn.  aside. 
you'd been an eye witness yourself too  
Of some of these Miracles.  End. 
I had rather talk to her o'th' influence  
Of her Eyes now, then of that o'th' Stars.  Sh. 
Oh, had you so?  
But you are not to choose your own Text by  
Your favour, Sir, she has set you a Theme.  End. 
Th' impossibility of your request pleads my excuse,  
There is no power in all my Art to serve you,  
If you command the presence of an absent person.  
Such things are not done by pure Astrology,  
Spectres and Phantasms move by Magic only,  
Which black and dismal study, as it lies,  
Within the compass of the Law, ne'er is th' application  
Of a noble mind; besides a Ghost or Vision  
Clothed in a fantastic body, is too melancholy  
For your Sex and Age, such dire Apparitions,  
As they are full of horror in themselves,  
Strike pale with it, the stoutest looker on,  
Your courage would fail you too at such a sight,  
And you'd repent the courtesy obtained.  Cel. 
Oh never, Sir, if the kind Spectre have  
My beloved's shape; be it but like him,  
And the sweet vision will more please then fright,  
But you mistrust me still, and think a Woman  
Unfit for such a secret.  Raw. 
He has been very cautious hitherto  aside. 
Of trusting the Sex with any of that Nature,  
And I think he has not many of 'em for you neither.  End. 
Nothing less, Madam, and since you urge me to't,  
I have, perhaps, skill enough for what you desire.  Cel. 
Oh Luce, 'twill come at last.  Lu. 
Hang him, Wizzard, I'd see him swim to th' Devil  
With a Millstone about his neck, ere I would Court him thus,  
Or be beholding to him indeed.  End. 
If I did at first plead an impossibility  
To obey you, 'tis for a certain obstacle  
I find in't, a main one too, your Lover, you tell me,  
Is in France, and there's the mischief on't,  
The Sea divides us, and I have no power  
Beyond my own district, the wild Element  
So uncontrouledly opposes all my charms  
My hands are tied; and that's the true  
And only cause, I've dallied wi'ye thus long.  Cel. 
Nay, if that be all, th'impossibility none,  
That obstacle of the sea is easily removed,  
So the fresh water hinder not, and if it do,  
We'll cross the River, this Letter here  
Is dated from Dover, see.  End. 
Nay, I believe you, Madam. worse and worse.  Cel. 
From whence he writes, he'll not stir of some days,  
He waved the Packet-boat, and waits a Man of War;  
He has some business too in Kent, some friends to see.  End. 
I am gone; this bold Wench with her mettle  
Has conjured that Devil out of me, others  
Think I have at my finger's ends.  Raw. 
Does my Master think they take him for a Tailor?  Cel. 
I know he's not shipped yet;  End. 
Would she were sunk some Fathoms with her fellow,  
To cool her courage, 'tis such a Virago.  Sh. 
Bellamy's supposed on's way for France,  
What if 'twere he now she longed for a sight of?  End. 
That's not unlikely, this may be Celia too;  
I'll sift it out, ere I engage too far.  
If he be yet on English ground, let me  
But know his name, for in that Circumstance  
Your Confession's yet defective, not that  
I'm ignorant of't, for let me tell you,  
Though his Birth be good, his Name as ancient,  
The family's decayed in Means, his personal  
Gallantry making good the worth of Ancestors  
Whose I and he ne'er inherited.  Cel. 
That is his Character.  End. 
Nor do we differ much in age, though he  
Perhaps, be something of the fairer stature.  Cel. 
It is most true.  End. 
Nay, then I'm well enough.  to Sh. 
You'll think it strange now, when I know the Man,  to Cel. 
I should ask you his name, but I have reasons for't;  
Such, as unless I have it from your mouth,  
I can't comply with your desires; 'tis an Essential  
Ceremony, a kind of deference our Art expects.  Cel. 
How pleasing 'tis to me to speak that name!  
Bellamy, now you have it; what else  
Must I do, or say to obtain my suit?  End. 
The sea not awing then my charms▪  
There's no pretence left to deny you now;  
And were the Task yet harder than it is,  
Your Confidence would win me to't,  
So daring a Spirit, that seeks what hardiest Men  
Durst not attempt, would ever make me try  
My utmost, look me full i' th' face.  Cel. 
Oh happy Celia!  End. 
Let me see your hand, what day were you born on?  Cel. 
The Tenth of May.  End. 
What day of the week?  Cel. 
On a Saturday.  Fan. 
She does not look, Luce, as she had been made up  
On a Saturday in the afternoon.  End. 
You must see your Sweetheart then,  Cel. 
To night, if it be possible,  
The very thoughts of it transport me so.—  End. 
You must make me a Covenant with his Idea now.  Fan. 
Oh x! will you turn Covenanter now?  Lu. 
When they that set the Idol up  
Have pulled it down themselves.  Fan. 
Nay, 'Tis burnt, they say, 'tis burnt.  
He'I make you a Fanatic i' th' end  
And you harken to him, with his idle Ideas.  Lu. 
As I am here, this is one of the Devils Trapanners,  
And has a standing Fee of so many fresh  
Familiars per annum from the Prince of darkness.  
To wheedle young ones in.  Cel. 
This malapert tongue will draw a vengeance on't,  
If you beware not, Minion.  Fan. 
You must excuse her▪ Sir, 'tis a mad Wench,  
She will talk thus of her Mistress, or my  
Mother, or any one sometimes.  Cel. 
Your tongue's but little better governed neither  
For all your excuses.  End. 
Let 'em talk their fill here among friends,  
But not a word of Conjuring abroad▪  
D''ee mark me, Gentlewoman, not a word,  
Or by my Jacob's-staff— but go to.  
The Covenant I desire is wholly harmless,  to Cel. 
An innocent Charm, and I must needs have  
A ticket written with your own hand.  Cel. 
In blood, Sir? End. No, no.  Cel. 
Can I refuse any thing that may contribute  
To what I so much long for?  End. 
My figure once made, and the Mystery finished,  
I'll tear your note, indeed I will;  
My Standish here, and some Paper.  they set a table with Lights and Paper— Fan. 
What think you now, Luce?  Lu. 
I think he's a Conjurer still, as I may tell you,  
Amongst ourselves, for I dare call him so  
Aloud no more, he swears by such a strange thing,  
The Prime Minister of State to the subterranean Monarch.  Cel. 
But what sayst thou to my note?  Lu. 
This very night will he carry it to the  
Meetinghouse, and pin it to the goat's tail.  Fan. 
You are sure i'th' next Lampoons to be coupled  
With Lucifer, you shall be the sole couple in hell  
For me, I'll ne'er write to him.  Lu. 
Flat and plain, Mistress, he should have  
Nothing under my hand, I say.  Cel. 
Away, away, thou art too scrupulous.  End. 
Write, as I'll dictate t'ee.  takes her aside toth' table where she sits to write Sh. 
Shall you & I chop a little Logic now,  
My blowing bud of beauty.  Fan. 
E'en as little as you please, Sir.  Raw. 
My most undelicate Chambermaid.  Sh. 
On further acquaintance, you'I say, the more the better; for though I serve such a terrible Master, I can be as familiar, as impudently familiar as any little Rogue of 'em all.  Fan. 
Thou hast thy sinful extreme too, I see.  Lu. 
Yet their Talon lies the more natural way,  
I should like it the better of the two,  
But thy Master is so dreadfully learned.  Raw. 
Beyond all thou seest yet;  Lu. 
One must carry their body swimming  
With him that knows the heart By looking in the face.  Sh. 
If he hear but one's name, 'tis enough.  Lu. 
That's stranger yet.  
Know people's thoughts, and hear but their names?  Raw. 
He never goes without a little devil in's pocket  
For that purpose, which he calls his Vade mecum:  Fan. 
A devil always about him, and you serve this man?  Sh. 
Why not? the devil's no ill company sometimes,  
I mean a familiar one:  Raw. 
Alas, we have whole Covies of tame fiends;  
Why there's the devil of Mascon,  
Would you wish a more sociable Goblin?  
You have heard of him, the story's in English.  Lu. 
I have not seen it.  Raw. 
Why, then I'll tell thee, 'tis a smug young fiend  
Made love to a Parson's daughter.  Sh. 
Or his Maid,  Raw. 
True, for in that particular Authors disagree.  Sh. 
As they do about Statira the Wife of Alexander, whether she were the Daughter, or Widow of King Darius.  Lu. 
Thou art read in History too.  Sh. 
Not much.  Lu. 
But prithee how did the devil court his Mistress,  Fan. 
Would he do her work for her, as the tales  
Go of sprights and fairies?  Raw. 
That I have forgot, but I'll give you the book to satisfy your Curiosity: This I remember, he had a damnable mind to a certain red ribbon she wore somewhere; but the niggardly old Parson would not let her give it him, for which done devil most zealously reproved his want of Charity.  Fan. 
But what if thy Master's devil should creep to my Cousin now?  Lu. 
How should we be troubled with her at home?  Raw. 
That need's not.  
A handsome Woman's devil enough of herself,  
Besides by her sharp look I guess her a shrew,  
She needs no devil to teach her to scold.  Sh. 
She did so jet it too as she came in,  
So eye herself, I see she's proud;  
There's another o'th' devils good qualities,  
She's not beholding to my Master for.  Lu. 
Why, thou studiest the black art too then?  Sh. 
Physiognomy a little, 'tis Physiognomy tells all this.  End. 
Your name is wanting still, subscribe it, and I've done.  Cel. 
And is this all?  End. 
All, Madam.  Cel. 
I leave it w'ee: think on me, Endymion;  End. 
I never yet broke promise to handsome Lady,  
Nor will I now begin with you, fair one.  Ex. Celia. Fan. 
Pray, Sir, don't tell my x, 'twas I had her Apricocks; and I'll steal you some to morrow, and sing you a fine song too.  End. 
Nay, without a bribe I can keep counsel, pretty one.  Ex. Fannie. Lu. 
I'm undone, if he look me i'th' face now;  
I have angered him, and these Witches are  holds her Apron before her face. 
So revengeful.  End. 
You hide your face from me now, and I see your heart.  Lu. 
Oh, Sir, I'll never call you Conjurer more,  
Nor speak true word of you again, but if  
You know what I now think, as you are frail  
Yourself, keep it from my Mistress, she'd turn  
Away Ralph infallibly, and she knew it.  Ex. Luce. Enter Lewis, Bernard. End. 
How much ado have I had to shake her off?  Lew. 
You have been something long about it indeed.  Bern. 
This bold cheat will fame you straight  
For eminently skilled;  
And your renown will every where increase.  End. 
I never suffered so hot a persecution.  Lew. 
Nor I so tedious an Expectation.  End. 
I'm sure I sweat for't again.  Lew. 
I durst not laugh neither.  Bern. 
How modestly he declined her commendations? and yet the very carelessness you received 'em with, persuaded her, you thought you well deserved 'em.  Lew. 
Why harped you not on the Ceremonious string still?  End. 
I saw she came not for a Compliment.  Bern. 
Why struck you not in, in your advisor's way?  End. 
Less on that account too.  Bern. 
That was the Common road.  End. 
It was not hers, you see.  Lew. 
I never was so put to't contain myself,  
As when she proved her Lover was on English ground,  
And whipped off the salt water.  End. 
I confess, I was put to't myself then;  
I was almost nonplussed.  Bern. 
I harkened still when she'd bespeak a bridge  
Over to Calais; but what if we had  
Not been in an Island now? what if there  
Had been some way over Land into France.  End. 
If there had, 'tis odds she'd not find it out;  
For 'twere I think another wonder, she  
Should be more knowing in cosmography,  
Then I am in Astrology:  
At worst I had found out some other Evasion,  
Pleaded the difference of Religion—  Bern. 
Marry, and a good plea too.  End. 
Or I know not what myself now.  Lew. 
I think so; but the letter, what's that?  End. 
No secret; but prithee  
Who should this Mother be the young one mentioned once,  Lew. 
Oh the Widow Aunt, I told you Celia lived with.  Reads 
Bellamy I know where you are,  
Pretence of travels, vain and light.  
And you are not yet got so far,  
But I may see you here this night.  
Celia.  
A most elaborate Epistle, full of rhythm and reason:  
And much you can do with it no doubt.  End. 
We must convey it into Bellamy's hands,  
Who suspecting by 't he has been dogged, or  
Is found out indeed, will haste to Celia  
For his vindication, and so betray  
Himself; I am revenged by this means of  
Clarinda, whose night-works I destroy: and  
If it happen that Celia full of spirits still  
And apparitions, take him for one, and  
Dare not give him hearing, no trick, no plot  
We could contrive, will add more credit to  
What's of my Astrology already spread.  
All the business is to deliver this note.  Raw. 
Leave that, Sir to my care  Sh. 
Your care? is that a fit Province  
For a Rawman? I'll take charge on't myself.  End. 
Nay, no Vying; I must use you another way,  
But it must be delivered to his own hands.  Sh. 
So I intent it shall. End. But how?  Sh. 
Without much cunning thus: Clarinda waits  
Him in her garden to night, 'tis near the  
Hour too, in's road I'll lie perdu, and if  
I do not make lamb change his Rendezvous.  Lew. 
No better way could be imagined.  gives him the letter. End. 
Dispatch then, and bring us tidings on't.  Sh. 
That I shall speedily, and good one's too, ne'er fear it.  Exeunt severally.  

SCENE II. The Fields.  Enter Bellamy, Rudeman. Rud. 
GOod Sir, nay, but consider.  Bell. 
The more I do, the more I find you a trouble some fellow.  Rud. 
But I always was of your midnight Counsels,  Bell. 
And that blazes 'em abroad at noonday.  Rud. 
Was I ever heard to say, my Master has left such a Lady, such a one's his Mistress now; he treated this Madam at that place, and t'other Madam at t'other place?—  Bell. 
If you had, sirrah, I had been seen to beat you.  Rud. 
Nay, nay, I don't talk o''at; there's no body questions your aptness that way.  Bell. 
Will you get you home?  Rud. 
After you is manners, Sir.  Bell. 
I shall beat you home.  Rud. 
What again beating? some other time, some other time may serve, you have business of more concern in hand now to my Knowledge.  Bell. 
Your Knowledge?  Rud. 
You sleep not all day, to ramble all night for nothing.  Bell. 
Ramble, sirrah?  Rud. 
Nay, I observe you, when I don't follow you? 'tis for no good you hide yourself from Madam Celia thus. She has deserved Better of you; who did I bring you the Two hundred pounds from, when you were snapped at Mr Grograms suit of Pater-Noster-Row? Or who fills your Pockets again when your Dice run the children of lee, or Deuce ace is your Comfort? Many a Lady has more comfort of a cheaper Gallant.  Bell. 
Are you that lady's Dun, Sir?  Rud. 
Her kindness will soon ha'▪ done, and 't be no better requited, then are we undone.  Bell. 
Excellent! quibbles too.  Rud. 
You may get preferment however i'th' next forlorn expedition: 'twill be sad reducing your Coach, Horses, and Lackeys to a sixty pound per annum Equipage.  Bell. 
Thou art my Pedagogue sure, my Tutor.  Rud. 
I am your poor Valet de Chambre, Sir; one that would gladly have his Master wise enough to grow rich, that he may thrive under him: refuse a handsome Lady, and a good fortune, when they are offered, to ferret after Je we scay quoys?  Bell. 
Thou hast not thy name for nothing, I see; th' art e▪ en the Rude Servingman, it speaks thee.  Rud. 
I am honest, Sir, if I am bold, I do not flatter and cheat you.  Bell. 
One of 'em I'll swear thou dost not; but for the other, Rud, I'll swear,  Bell. 
I shan't be rid of this fellow now, and aside. Looks on's watch. my hour draws near. I know him close and secret as the night, however I seem shy of him. Come, I will trust thee for once; as we go, I'll tell thee whither; but follow me, d''ee hear, and direct me not.  Rud. 
Oh any thing, Sir, to make one.  Bell. 
This fellow's one of those are scandalised at all wickedness they have not a hand in, and cannot abide any Man should Drink or Wench without 'em.  Rud. 
And some such exploit, I suspect you bound for now.  Bell. 
I should guests you do by your earnestness to make one.  
Nay, this way, this way.  Exeunt.  

SCENE III. The backside of Sr Christopher 's Garden.  Enter Shift. 
I Long to have done my arrant now, to see how heartily, how gamester like, he'll fret to lose the kisses he thinks himself so fair for to night? how many ten groats will he swear himself out of, if any of the godly be but within hearing? I must pack as soon as I have delivered the Letter, for coming in Celia's name, the thanks he'd give, won't be worth staying for. I cannot be far from the Garden now, here will I stand sentinel: he knows me not, and so there is no danger of an after-beating.  To him Bellamy, Rudeman▪ 
I hear some body, 'tis he certainly.  Rud. 
Nay, if Clarinda love you too, I'm satisfied, she's rich enough to do our business, but here's a father's good will to get; the other's at her own dispose.  Bell. 
Time may work him▪ who's there?  runs against Sh. as going into the garden Sh. 
A friend, Sir, that waited your coming:  
This note from Celia speaks my business,  
She earnestly desires your Company to night:  
And I am your Worship's servant.  Ex. Rud. 
An unserviceable one, he thinks, at this time.  Bell. 
What cursed Encounters this? honest fellow, Friend, prithee a word. Rudeman, stay the fellow.  Rud. 
He's gone, he's out of my reach; but that's no hard matter indeed, for I never had any great reach with me.  Bell. 
Venturing at wit, when I am thus perplexed.  Rud. 
The night's so dark too, he's as soon out of sight.  Bell. 
Again?  Rud. 
What devil has discovered you were in town?  Bell. 
Or what faithless confident rather betrays  
My secret? 'tis Gratian, it can be none  
But he, I trusted none else, and he loves  
Celia too,  
In whose affection to supplant me now,  
He has betrayed my privacy:  
I have deserved no less to trust a Rival;  
That title once succeeding dissolves  
All former ties of friendship.  Rud. 
To be snapped here too at the garden door  
Brings Clarinda in question.  Bell. 
That's mere accident; Gratian, though he knew  having mused a little 
I concealed myself, knew not wherefore,  
And she would ne'er betray me.  
Some speedy balsam though I must apply  
Where he has used such Corrosives: I will  
To Celia, she loves me, with ease I can  
Pacify her, and destroy those rash hopes  
A false friend has conceived.  Rud. 
But what is this note were not from Celia now?  stays him as he was going off. Bell. 
The Messenger I know not,  
Nor had he any mind I should.  Rud. 
So far it smells knavishly.  Bell. 
First let me see, if't be her hand, and then  
With all the kind words, Credulous Maids lend  
Greedy ear unto, I will make my peace.  
If light discover it a mistake, or trick,  
I'll forward to Clarinda, where  
A thousand kisses shall make amends  
For staying thus beyond my hour?  Rud. 
Marry, would I were to do the penance for you.  Exeunt.  

SCENE IU. Celia 's Chamber. A Table and Lights set forth, a Chair by't.  Enter Celia, Fannie, Luce. Lu. 
CAn you imagine this star-wright with all his hard words, should bring Bellamy so far on such a sudden?  Cel. 
Silly wretch! thy shallow understanding  
Cannot reach the bottom of his Capacity,  
Which, (so the sea lie not in's way) will do  
A thousand things harder and stranger, he'll  
Come then, never doubt it, not he himself  
'Tis true, but his similitude,  
Something resembling him so perfectly,  
Love itself could not make a distinction.  Lu. 
What good will that Copy of his Countenance do you?  Cel. 
Ask Love if thou be'st ignorant, for he is  
The reason of all he forces us to,  
Nor is the Curiosity so strange,  
In me, nor so particular;  
I've heard of many Women use the like.  sits down. Fan. 
'Twere a strange thing indeed Women in this town would not venture upon. I have heard too of the Woman of Billeter-Lane, and of her of Grub-street.  Lu. 
And of Ladies that go into Chancery-Lane to know when their husbands will die, whether their next will be kinder.  Fan. 
And what day o'th' week is best to be married on: but bless me from such pranks, they are no handsome leans melancholy on the table. one's, I'm sure, though the handsome Ladies use 'em.  Lu. 
But, Madam, you are heavy, the very thought  
Of this apparition, works upon you  
Like th' expectation of an ague-fit.  Fan. 
Shall I sing you a song, x, to divert sad thoughts?  Cel. 
I prithee, Fannie, 'twill cheer thee,  
However it work on me.  Fannie sings 

What strange disguises Lovers wear?  
misshapen shapes they still affect,  
Thus the white bull that does Europa bear  
Shrouding Jove's person does his Love defect:  
Thus the same overruling power  
Send him to Danae in a shower.   Bis. 

If 'mong the gods he bear this sway,  
What can he not o'er Mortals do?  
He that with Deities thus dares to play,  
Will govern sure Mankind as strangely too:  
Nor is the fairer sex more free  
From Metamorphoses than we.   Bis. 
For women once:—  Cel. 
I'll hear no more; there's none so strange as mine,  rising 
As that my Bellamy's expected in,  
Others had the substances they loved, though  
Clothed with accidents they were not used to,  
But I must be content with th'outward shape  
Of what I love, shrouding I know not what  
Substance or reality.  Lu. 
But if it be a Phantasm, a body  
Patched up of air or grosser Vapours,  
Will not you be afraid, think you?  Cel. 
Not in the least.  sits down again Fan. 
I'm sure but I shall then.  Cel. 
Hark, some body knocks at door.  starting off the table she leaned on. Lu. 
Some body, quoth you?  
We neither look for bodies nor souls here,  
What if 'twere the I know not what now?  
The strange thing you'll call Bellamy?  
You grow pale already, you sigh too.  Fan. 
Is this the Courage love puts into his?  
I think he's a Coward himself for my part  
And he back you with no better mettle now in time of need.  Lu. 
You think 'tis he now.  Cel. 
I am not certain, but see who ere it be.  
I'm strangely changed o'th' sudden, I feel not  
That firm resolution now, my soul is  
Seized with horror, that strikes a shivering cold  
All o'er my body, something there is in  
Nature still repugns against these Visions,  
Maugre the love or humour sets one on.  
But what need I fear?  she rises. To them Bellamy. Lu. 
Oh Madam, Madam, 'tis he, 'tis Bellamy,  drops the candle out of her hand and runs away. 
But that he's twice as tall as he was wont to be.  Ex. Cel. Fan. 
Ay me! Ay me!  Bell. 
What means this shrieking and this running about?  Cel. 
Now am I well paid for my Curiosity, I have at the far side of the stage. my wish, and 't proves my own undoing, 'tis Bellamy's Voice, but I han't power to answer him.  Fan. 
I'm nothing mistaken in myself,  from under the table, where she had hid herself. 
I knew I should be afraid, and my x  
For all her cracking proves as very a Coward.  Cel. 
When I besought th' ginger to send him to me,  
I wished to see him only, not to speak with him.  Bell. 
Send for me, Celia, and use me thus. 'tis something strange?  Fan. 
If the thing should find me under the table now.  
I'll pray hard.  B. come. towards the table Bell. 
Could you find no body else to practise  
These Exotic fits upon? must I be  
Your ridiculous mirth, that bring my Celia  
New assurances, 'tis she alone  
Has power in Bellamy's heart?  Cel. 
I'll ha' none of thee, nor thy heart,  
I abhor the power, 'tis the true Bellamy I had a mind to see.  Bell. 
She suspects my inconstancy;  
I am to Celia the same Bellamy still,  
My thoughts of thee are nothing changed, I vow.  Cel. 
Fiend keep off, avant Phantasm; get runs into her closet, and shuts herself in. thee to France again, or into Lapland, from whence thou camest, I think.  Exit. Bell. 
Hear but my reasons. is't raillery this?  
Or some trick devised on purpose to make  spies her under the table 
Trial of me? Fannie, what dost thou there?  Fan. 
Help, help, I'm killed, I'm done to death getting hastily from under it. with fear.  Ex. Bell. 
Was ever Gallant thus gallantized?  throws it down candle and all, runs away and leaves him i'th' dark. 
The devil o-love, and this be it, I say.  
Fiend, and Phantasm, and Lapland! I am not  
Mad sure, though they be; I'll try'em again;  
Luce, Celia, why Luce, prithee prevail with  goes from Corner to Corner. 
Thy Mistress to hear me. Celia, Fannie,  
Pretty, Sweet Fannie: 'tis labour lost;  
I shan't be answered, unless there be an  
Echo within hearing, the dumb devil  
Possesses 'em, and I am left i'th' dark  
To grope out the meaning of this frolic.  
Well, let her have her humour, I must to  
Clarinda, and prevent what ill offices may be  
There intended too, I am discovered  
In town, and need not now keep out of sight,  
Pray heaven the morn prove kinder than the night.    

ACT IU.  

The first SCENE, Sr Christopher 's house.  Enter Bellamy, Clarinda, Beatrix, Rudeman. Bell. 
SO deep a melancholy does both surprise,  
And grieve me, Sweet; what makes these sighs so frequent?  
Can you doubt my fidelity?  Clar. 
I'm full of fears, I must confess it, Bellamy;  
Nor can I, when I think what enemies we have,  
Though you are present, force a cheerfulness.  
What will not Endymion, knowing all  
We thought most secret, attempt to ruin us:  Bell. 
He can do nothing, if you love me still.  Clar. 
Would I could say so of Celia too!  Bell. 
Oh Madam! you are too injurious—  Clar. 
Our first affections ne'er lose all their power;  
Call your kindness for her a civil devoir,  
A gratitude if you will; she is lovely still,  
And Civility forces you to see her:  
Then smothered flames too-easily break out.  Bell. 
Wrong not your own charms, and my affection  
With so unjust a Jealousy:  
If you can so much slight Clarinda's power  
To fear Celia; I'll not see her at all.  
But I am not without my fears neither,  
For who loves tenderly, and thinks himself secure?  
What will your father say, when once he knows  
You suffer Bellamy's love, or what will  
He not do to ruin a happiness  
He thinks me not rich enough to deserve?  
He'll chide, he'll school Clarinda, he'll threaten her,  
If she neglect his lessons, will she not  
Fear his anger? and in that fear, in that  
Fear perhaps she will forsake me,  
And wrought of his own mind, hold it  
A madness where an Estate is wanting,  
To value Birth, descent, or Breeding—  Clar. 
Think better of me, than so. Know that the  
Virtue of the beloved object alone  
Is enough to make me constant, that worth  
Which first made me love, makes me persever.  
Nor is my heart so much a slave to fear,  
That Menaces can blot out an Image,  
A noble affection had drawn in't.  
No Bellamy, I shall wear yours here still.  Bell. 
I am too happy then.  Clar. 
Accept this pledge of my fidelity,  gives him a ring. 
And be assured I'm yours;  
Let friends, let fortune smile or frown,  
Never shall Celia's constancy equal mine.  Bell. 
My Joy is now so great, I am lost in't.  
Unable to speak, unable to keep silence—  To them Sr Christopher. Clar. 
You must keep it a while; here's my father—  Sr Chr. 
Is not that Bellamy? what returned already?  Bell. 
An unexpected Lawsuit forces me back,  
I am subpenaed up again, and must  
Till after term at least lay by all thoughts  
Of seeing France; I was at Canterbury.  Sr Chr. 
And how does my Nephew Manly?  Reat. 
He may as well ask me.  aside. Bell. 
He entertained me nobly at his house.  Sr Chr. 
Has not the young-squire written to me? ha?  Bell. 
He had, and gave me his letter, but a  
French Lackey I took here for the Journey,  
When he saw me turn back, run away with  
My Vallize, and your letter was in it.  Beat. 
That Lackey saves thy credit now,  
It must have been said to thee else.  Sr Chr. 
You have made but an ill journey on't then.  Bell. 
Thus are my stars still inauspicious to me.  Beat. 
Endymion Madam at your request would  
Tell him to his Vallize again.  Clar. 
Away thou cruel Wench, thou seest the pangs  
This discourse gives me, and canst raise mirth out of it?  Bell. 
My ownloss I should not value,  Rud. 
'Twas not so great indeed.  aside. Bell. 
But the Letter was merely writ on my behalf,  
And did implore your aid in my affairs.  Sr Chr. 
You may command me, and my interest.  Clar. 
If you Espouse his Cause, he need not fear being cast.  Beat. 
If the old Man Espouse his Cause,  
The young one will Espouse you.  Rud. 
And that's it she would be at.  Beat. 
Would 'twere come to't once for me,  
That I might have some quiet among 'em.  Bell. 
On your favour than I build my hopes, but this  
Law-business draws me uncivilly away,  
Pleaders are not Masters of their own time.  
Your pardon, Sir.  Sr Chr. 
Business must be waited on;  Bell. 
May I presume you'I mind your father  
Of my suit, Madam, and contribute  
To the continuance of his favours?  Clar. 
I'll do my best, Sir, to possess him with  
The justice of your cause; his Example  
Authorises me to own your interest too.  Ex. Bell. Rud. Sr Chr. 
But wilt thou be thus melancholy still?  
What is the cause? tell me, good Clarinda.  Clar. 
I know no reason for't.  Beat. 
She dreamed of a younger brother, Sir, to night,  
Which, reflecting on Endymion's prediction,  
Seems ominous.  Sr Chr. 
Your bolt is soon shoot still.  
Art indisposed in health?  Clar. 
I feel no alteration;  
And yet it may be some natural overslow  
Of a dull humour in the body causes this heaviness.  Sr Chr. 
Ah Clarinda! my tenderness of thee  weeps. 
Is ill requited with this sullen reserve  
Of thy sick thoughts..  Clar. 
To speak truth, I have lost some toys, and that's  
The only reason I can give for this damp  
My mirth is struck withal.  Sr Chr. 
Why, what hast lost?  Clar. 
That which does vex me much.  Sr Chr. 
But what?  Clar. 
The Rose-diamond you gave me.  Sr Chr. 
Let not that trouble thee, it may be found again.  Clar. 
I have small hopes on't, I have sought every where.  Sr Chr. 
I was carelessly laid by perhaps,  
And opportunity makes a true man a thief:  
But the loss is easily repaired, there are fairer rings in town, I'll go buy thee one presently.  Clar. 
That were a slight reparation of my loss;  
I fancied this.  Sr Chr. 
What a fondness is here? though I give her  
A better ring, she'll lose by the bargain:  
Well, set thy heart at rest,  
Thou shalt have thy own again, for I will  
Just now to Endymion about it.  Beat. 
Now you are in a fine Pickle!  
To excuse these dumps you're fallen into,  
You've gone and spoiled all.  Clar. 
So I have indeed.  Beat. 
Peace, peace; he's coming back.  Sr Chr. 
Tell me, when was this ring lost?  Clar. 
I missed it but to day.  Sr Chr. 
So, so, 'tis not gone far, I warrant you.  Clar. 
Further I hope, than your discovery will reach.  Beat. 
The old man's here again.  Sr Chr. 
But about what a clock was it lost? for I shall be asked all these questions, that I shall; therefore I must be prepared.  Clar. 
Between eight and nine.  Sr Chr. 
Oh 'tis well, 'tis well, eight and nine, eight and nine;  
Let me not forget eight and nine.  Exit. Beat. 
How he maunders it, eight and nine, eight and nine; he'll Con his lesson nine times over, but he'll have it perfect.  Clar. 
What shall I do, Beatrix? advise me, good Beatrix.  Beat. 
'Twere well and you would be adviz d, before▪  
You do it, than Beatrix could say something,  
But to be put still to an aftergame,  
You are so wilfully fore-handed:  
This scurvy ginger now will tell him all.  Clar. 
Endymion is the Man indeed undoes me▪  
But let him do his worst, my love stands not  
In awe now of a father's check, 'tis of  
So fair a growth his frowns cannot nip it,  
My heart is Bellamy's, nothing can force it from him,  
Endymion and his Stars are all too weak?  Exit. Beat. 
The devil is not so headstrong as these young Wenches, when they have got a bit of a Man; but 'tis I must lay the storm for all her vapouring; I must let Shift know how things go, lest his Master be put to't beyond his skill, and shaking hands with Astrology, be forced to tell our old man the plot.  Exit.  

SCENE II. Endymion 's Lodgings.  Enter Endymion, Bernard, Lewis, Rawman. End. 
WHat a perpleity am I reduced to?  Lew. 
Why, 'twas with your consent,  Bern. 
Nay, by your own order we raised the report.  End. 
Yes of Astrology, but of nothing else,  
And yet they think abroad, I have all hell  
At command: They point at me i'th' streets,  
So noted a person I am.  
There goes the learned Man, says one; oh the  
ginger, says another, that comes  
And peeps me in my face to know me again.  
In some places they stare at me,  Raw. 
As they would have done at the hairy woman,  
Had she not cased her beard up as she went about.  Bern. 
Right— or as they did at the Hermaphrodite Tother day at the play.  End. 
The Prophet, says a precise one, and lifts  
His hands and eyes to Heaven in admiration,  
That one so young should be so knowing.  Raw. 
Children run away, and cry the Witch, the Witch, the Witch; because at home their Mothers fright them with him.  Lew. 
Thou boy, Rawman!  End. 
Some understanding ones there are, (and those  
I forgive, because they are i'th' right)  
Believe me guilty of no Magic, but  
A mere Impostor, for such contemn me,  
Laugh at me, and those that think me other.  
Thus am I entertained i'th' streets;  
Or thus at least I interpret their looks  
And actions that I meet i'th' streets.  Lew. 
Some skill you have in Physiognomy,  
It seems, (if you have none in Astrology)  
That can read all this in mens' faces.  
But fame, you know, loves to augment every thing.  Bern. 
Nothing toth' People is a little rare,  
They will hyperbolise, and screw all novelties  
To the highest Key: a lie with them  
Snow-ball-like roll about, and gets in every place,  
Each teller of't adds something of his own,  
To shape it to his fancy.  Lew. 
If you are thus plagued abroad, you must keep  
Home a while; the Wonder will be over.  Raw. 
We cannot do that neither in quiet,  
So many have found his Lodging out;  
And now Moll Cutpurse that Oracle of felony  
Is dead, there's not a pocket picked,  
But he's acquainted with it.  Lew. 
That's much indeed.  Raw. 
Nor a silver hilt pinched away, but they come  
To the figure-flinger for it.  
He hears of every Wedding, Christening, City-feast, by th' Butler's recourse to him for Plate and Linen they lost at 'em.  Bern. 
That's more yet.  End. 
Alas, I am a kind of grandissime Jury, and have all thefts brought before me, before they go to Hicks-hall, or the Old Bailie; marry, could I help the Man to his Mare again, they would never go thither, and I might take much of the matter out of the Lawyer's hands: but all Trades must live, I'll not spoil theirs. I shall have the Country-fellows too with the savoury questions that pozed old Noll's star-peeper, then am I in a sweet condition.  Bern. 
The World is satisfied with your skill, 'tis grown a full and general persuasion.  Lew. 
I see nothing but mirth the stratagem has yet produced.  End. 
What? to have Sir, and Madam; Cut and Long-tail put me a hundred several questions, as if I were Jupiter hammon, or Diana's spokesman at Ephesus? you reckon this nothing? I never had too much of nothing till now.  Lew. 
Your Mistress by this fiction's awed,  
Your Rival fears you too,  
Their pleasures are disturbed,  
And all succeeds as you could wish it should.  End. 
Believe it Lewis, 'tis without regret  
That I give Bellamy place, the disturbance  
I bring his pleasures, yields me no content;  
My own flames extinct, it concerns not me  
Whether Clarinda meet his love, or no.  Lew. 
Here's an indifferency I looked not for.  End. 
In affairs of love I measure ever the Esteem I make of Women, by that they make of me; where they incline to kindness, I can love too: if they withdraw once, or refuse their favours, my flexible and obedient heart, Lewis, can soon imitate: nor ever need I four and twenty hours to cure myself of that disease.  Lew. 
I did mistake your temper; but since 'tis so convenient, why owned you not the truth of all at first, without taking the ginger upon you?  End. 
You'll wonder at my stupidity;  
Nor can I now myself conceive, why I  
Run my neck into this noose, when all the danger  
That threatened, was but the turning away  
Of a Chambermaid.  Bern. 
ne'er let it trouble you now, we bear our  
Share of all, and owe a helping hand to  
Bring you out, We helped to plunge you in, and  
Half the shame will fall on the divulgers.  To them Celia, Fannie, Luce. Cel. 
I have a quarrel to you, Endymion.  End. 
Here's my Virago again, 'tis th' importunest  aside. 
Wench this, she'll never be answered. How can  to Cel. 
I since last night have deserved your anger?  Cel. 
If Bellamy has not been absent, why  
Would you, whose rare knowledge extends itself  
To secrets more remote, make me one of  
His being in town?  
Why dealing with that candour you seemed to  
Promise, did you not tell me where he was?  End. 
What reason shall I give her? oh! I knew  aside musing 
It not myself till I made my figure;  to Cel. 
Yet what if I had known it sooner? I  
Promised but a sight of Bellamy, and  
Did you not see him? consider but with  
Equal Eyes the whole adventure,  
No part of it but to my credit turns;  
For if in lieu of an illusion, Madam,  
A shade, a Phantasm you expected,  
Spite of the care he took to hide himself,  
I forced him though in person to appear,  
Does it not prove the certain influence  
Of an art.  
You cannot now with want of power tax?  Cel. 
It does, I must confess, it does; this reason  
Destroys all Jealousies I had of it.  Bern. 
You may be sure 'tis the best  aside. 
He could find out for you o'th' sudden.  Cel. 
But give my passion yet some further ease;  
This Bellamy, this fair friend plays me fowl,  
Those Vows forgot, I too much credited,  
Pays a new Mistress what is due to me.  
I have the story of their close Amours,  
And know the stars alone, which you command,  
Witness their meetings and their kindnesses:  Lewis and Bern smils 
Break me this league then learned Endymion,  
You that ne'er meet with obstacle to your will  
But what your art o'ercomes;  
Cancel the bonds she has my faithless in,  
I'th' midst of her Caresses force him from  
Her eyes; restore him to his true Mistress.  End. 
No evasion does the Learning she so much admires  
Inspire me now, but to persuade her she's mistaken.  Lew. 
Something from the learned Endymion will  smiling. 
Be expected, but that I think may serve  End. 
Take better thoughts of your Lover, Madam:  
Though in his carriage he may be too blame,  
Yet are you misinformed of what keeps him  
In town, you are the cause of it yourself,  
To cure his Jealousy he thus plays least in sight,  
And to observe you does pretend this Journey;  
But since you are thus constant to him still,  
Fear not his leaving you:  
And should you of his Love want other proofs,  
Let this suffice, that he is Jealous grown,  
With a seeming coldness,  
Or neglect perhaps he may dissemble  
A while, but let it not disquiet you,  
For 'tis you he loves, I say again,  
And passionately.  Cel. 
Pleasing hopes! comfortable assurance?  
Pardon dear Bellamy if without Cause  
I questioned thus thy faith; if Jealousy  
Must prove thy Love, let my fears assure thee of mine,  
I feared to lose but what I love to keep.  
The heavens, kind Endymion, power as many  
Blessings on you, as you've assured me of.  Ex. Celia, Fannie, Luce. Lew. 
She pays you in your own coin; as you have  
Pleased her with an assurance of nothing,  
She requites you with a wish of as much.  Raw. 
'Tis as believing a good Soul  
As you'd wish to preach to.  Bern. 
And as well satisfied you've sent her away,  
Her heart I dare swear's as light as her head.  End. 
Her request did not much fright me this bout,  
I knew that for a few fair words I should  
Be rid of her credulous Ladyship.  Lew. 
But how intent you to make good your word  
To Gratian? it seems already broke by  
The hopes you've given Celia.  End. 
Why perceive you not those hopes are airy  
Nothings with which I flatter her forwardness  
To be fooled? I know Clarinda  
Has Bellamy too fast, to think  
He ever will be Celia's, and this knowledge  
Made me speak my own belief to Gratian.  Lew. 
Nay, he believes you too, and looks on me  
His Introducer t'ee, as bound in honour for your performance,  
Yet how you will, or can, I'm still to seek.  End. 
In Love you are indeed.  
Would you not judge else, that Celia  
Needs must see at last how Bellamy fools her,  
That she'll grow weary of being thus abused?  
If your friend then prove constant and persever;  
Will not his services reach her heart i'th' end?  
Now if he give my art th' honour of an  
Event, is due to his own industry  
And the common Course of things,  
The stars be praised for it,  
But now we are free from these fortune seekers,  
Let's breathe a while, and talk of something else.  To them Sr Christopher. Lew. 
Not so free as you think neither; here's one—  End. 
Is worse than twenty Celia's.  Sr Chr. 
Master Endymion.  End. 
Oh Sir! what wind blows you hither?  Sr Chr. 
An ill wind sure.  End. 
I thought so.  Sr Chr. 
But you will make it take about, and blow  
Every one their own again, I must entreat  
One Courtesy of you, kind Gentleman.  End. 
What is it?  Sr Chr. 
Excuse my boldness if I deal thus freely with you, and come to the point without any further compliment or preamble, I use no Ceremony amongst friends?  End. 
I commend you for it, a civil freedom is much better.  Sr Chr. 
The loss of a certain Diamond has caused great disorder at home, my servants are suspected, and the whole family being in disturbance about it, my humble request is, you'll help me to set the saddle on the right house, that is you'll cast a figure for't, and tell who has it.  Bern. 
The old Man comes in very good time to to End. break the truce you would have made with Astrology.  End. 
I must break all commerce with it,  
The cheer s too gross to last above a day;  
I ever told you so.  Sr Chr. 
He's musing on my request now.  to Lew. Lew. 
The trade he drives requires great recollection, 'tis a speculative trade, and I have often seen him on such occasions in so deep a study, you'd think the soul did quite forsake the body, 'tis lest so void of action.  Sr Chr. 
He had more need to set all wheels a-work, he must climb up to th' heavens for my ring, he'll ne'er find it here below else.  End. 
I am not quit now for gulling an Amorous Maid, to Lew. or a more ignorant Lover, I must fool a man, who in that very toy I fool him with pretends to be as skilled, as I am unacquainted, and will discover my ignorance as soon as I pretend to knowledge. No, no, 'tis my own undoing to aside Lew and B. slighting him. play upon him any longer. I must deal freely, 'tis the only way to get out of this plunge.  Sr Chr. 
See but what pains he takes.  to Lew. Lew. 
He's about your business all this while.  Sr Chr. 
He begins to look something seriously upon the matter.  to Lew. End. 
Having no Interest to delude you, Sir;  
I must confess there is much more believed,  
Or said of me, than I deserve: 'tis true,  
I have read something of Astrology,  
And viewed the grounds your Artists work upon,  
Which makes some talking friends boast they have seen  
Experiments beyond the common, though indeed  
I ne'er gave the least sign of a skill, they  
Needs will force upon me, unless in words  
Sometimes, yet sparingly, when their Example  
Forced a compliance: but with you  
I protest again, the reputation  
This fiction gets me, nor all the merry  
Consequences of it, can ne'er force me  
To such forgery; as for your Diamond then,  
In vain expect you tidings of't from me,  
'Tis out of my reach believe it, Sir.  Lew. 
He will fall to his natural Level  
Of ignorance, I see, do what we can.  Bern. 
And yet he cannot resolve to confess himself  
An Impostor neither; he minces it a little.  Sr Chr. 
Did I not know by the report of others, you are this day the Phoenix of Astrologers; this very humility with which you depress you abilities, would raise you in my Esteem above the common rank of Scholars.  End. 
Leave an opinion, I m not so happy  
To deserve, I know nothing in the stars.  Raw. 
Who could forbear laughing at this old fellow, aside. that makes him take more pains to persuade his ignorance, than others do to get knowledge.  Sr Chr. 
This very earnestness with which you decline  
The title of a knowing Man, tells me  
'tis your due, and confirms me more and more  
In the belief of your capacity.  
Thus modest, thus discreet are they always  
Who know much, nor will they, by assuming  
Worth unto themselves, derogate from what  
They do deserve, or by such gross Vanity  
Eclipse the Lustre of their rare Endowments.  Lew. 
Our ginger has a fine time on't.  Bern. 
You wish yourself in his place, I warrant.  Lew. 
No, no, I have my share of the pass-time,  
Where I am.  End. 
Were I indeed the Man you take me for,  
Though I had reason to conceal myself from others,  
Here I would yield my interest up to yours,  
And with candour lay open all my skill,  
But I have none, none at all to merit  
The honour you do me.  Sr Chr. 
I tell you again, that this humility alone is more commendable in you, than all your learning; he that knows most knows himself too well to be proud of what he knows, he sees too much daily to learn, to think that much he has already learned: and thus what art soever one pretend to, he that dares boast himself a Master of it, knows nothing in't at all.  End. 
Liars, they say, loose credit even for the few truths they utter; but mine is a stranger punishment, when I lied I was credited; and now I speak truth, I cannot win belief.  aside. Sr Chr. 
But to come to my ring again, I must tell you (if that be a necessary Circumstance▪ 'twas a gift of my poor Wife's, for whose sake I long kept it, till at last Clarinda got it of me, and she bas lost it this morning, as she thinks, 'twixt eight and nine.  To them Shift. Sh. 
You shall have the other too at night, Sir.  gives him a Paper 
Hark hither, this is but a pretext.  they whisper Sr Chr. 
Why makes he so fine of it?  Lew. 
he's afraid perhaps of being suspected of Witchcraft; 'tis a detracting age, and he had need be cautious.  Sr Chr. 
He's overnice with me, I can keep Counsel, and would conceal what were not fit for every Ear.  Sh. 
This did Beatrix tell me just now.  to End. End. 
Th' intelligence comes luckily, I was caught else.  
Pardon the freedom, Sir, I take, to leave you  to Sir Chr. 
For an account of business I had sent  
My man about, I should not trespass thus,  
But that it did require some haste.  Sr Chr. 
Would you had trespassed, that you might expiate it With the Courtesy I request.  End. 
I am provided for him now,  aside. 
And since he has a mind to 't, have at him;  
Had I but skill enough.  to Sir Chr. Sr Chr. 
Skill enough for a ring? away, away;  
There's nothing easier, then to help one again to such a toy as that, I could have done't myself at your years:  End. 
I must yield by degrees, he'll suspect me,  aside. 
If I pass suddenly from one extreme  
To another. Sir, I protest again  
Without dissimulation—  Sr Chr. 
Without dissimulation, or procrastination,  
Good Sir, tell me to my ring again;  
For I know you can, if you list now?  End. 
I did but spare you some trouble, declining  
Thus to tell you what I find;  
But since you needs will have it,  Sr Chr. 
Tell me, tell me, ' 'tshall ne'er trouble me, I warrant you.  End. 
He that this morning saluted you in  
A riding garb, is the Man; he has it.  Sr Chr. 
Who would have suspected him of all the world? that a Man of his birth and breeding should play such pranks, Necessity perhaps drives him to't;  
And that We know having no Law itself, makes those that feel it, Lawless too. You see Endymion, how much in vain you go about to hide that, which in your very looks I read; when once, I say, That Man's a Wit, a Scholar, he's one indeed. But fare you well Sir, I'll go after my ring.  Exit. Lew. 
You stuck scurvily, till Shift helped you out.  End. 
Never more, I swear; I knew not what shift to make.  Sh. 
'Twas well for you there was one made to your hand.  Bern. 
Marry, was it.  End. 
But what if he fall out with Bellamy now,  
As having stolen his ring?  Bern. 
Nay, what if he charge him with felony?  Lew. 
And the Constable with him?  End. 
That were a jest indeed.  Sh. 
What matter whether he take him for a son-in-law, or a thief, 'tis much at one; both lie at the catch for the old Man's Money, both (if 'tis not otherways to be had) watch his death for it.  End. 
Though hitherto the sport does mainly thrive;  
Checked by no obstacle but such, as the  
Removal of, turns to increase of mirth,  
I'm weary of a trade I ne'er was apprentice to;  
To leave it then with credit as I drive  
It on, since the persuasion of my  
Knowledge makes this old Man believe  
What e'er I say, I'll work on his facility  
To a noble end, and far from Jealous  
Of a Rival's fortune, will crown his Love  
With the good Knight's allowance of Clarinda's.  Sh. 
hay day! all this bustle for a Willow Garland?  End. 
If I must wear one, I will have added to't, both Groom and Bride's free and grateful acknowledgement, 'tis I unite them, and that to my pretended skill i'th' stars they owe their happiness.  Enter Lagripe. 
But who have we here? a new Consulter?  Bern 
An old one, I think.  Sh. 
Nay! We have more Chamber-practice then half the Lawyers in town; yet the devil a fee or feeling I get amongst all our Clients:  Raw. 
This 'tis to serve a Generous Gentleman.  Sh. 
That does all for God-a-mercy, and the credit of doing it, and cries a good deed carries its own reward along with it.  End. 
Peace Preacher.  Bern. 
Prithee what old Don is it?  End. 
'Tis a Monsieur, Man, has served Sr Christopher Credulous ever since his travels, he brought him a young fellow out of France with him, Monsieur Lagripe.  Bern. 
A griping Sir, I warrant him,  La-gr. 
Ah Monsieur de Astrologue.  Sh. and Raw. 
Monsieur Lagripe.  La-g. 
For Clarinda sake, Clarinda our common Mistress they smile.— dat is te Mistress of us boat, serve for Love, serve for Money, for de Vages, Vat you call? it is all one, it I'll serve still.  End. 
Has he not made it good?  Lew. 
Not good English, Sir.  Raw. 
Good Pedlar's French, Sir, and that's better for Variety.  Bern. 
Hear out his story.  La-g. 
If I did dare pray you of one faveur.  End. 
What is it?  La-g. 
Very small petite chose, de no tingue.  End. 
But what? I'll do any thing for thee, honest Monsieur,  La-g. 
Do that den, I pray yove.  End. 
That? what? I will and I can.  La-g. 
Oh if you can; Vraiment it is no if's nor Ans.  End. 
Can I unless you tell me what you would have done?  La-g. 
No laugh at me, one poor old French man, pourquoy demand Vat, Venus you can as Well tell, Var I say have done, as you can do.  Lew. 
May be so too.  La-g. 
Vat you tinke me no know Vat you can do? as if me no hear my old Master, my fellow Beatrige, and all te town besides talk of you.  End. 
But do you hear I can know another's  
Thought without his intimation?  La-g. 
I hear no intimation; Vat I hear, I know;  
I no know dat.  End. 
Can a man divine your meaning?  La-g. 
Devine my mean? you look in my visage, you know all, and yet I tell you notingue; you be no man to tell long story to; derefore no ask me Vat I vould, but do vat I vowed.  End. 
I shall be hard enough for thee yet, old fox.  aside 
'Tis not with thee Monsieur I would dissemble  having thought. 
My knowledge or my power; such palliations  
Of an unkind repulse derogate—  La-g. 
Ah Monsieur! no hard vords, I pray you, Pallashons! de gros cat! Vat te devil is dat to me? Plain English is hard enough for me, I promise you. How you think I intend dose sayings? I have no devil but thirty years in does Country.  End. 
Why, plainly thus then; I know what brought thee hither, and what thou wilt request of me!  La-g. 
Oh, oh! look you dear den! me know very well vat I say, I varrant's you; me no drunk.  End. 
But soft: though I do, I must not tell, nor use that knowledge for aught thou seek'st of me, the reason's this; I can do but one thing for thee at a time: if then to read or tell thy thought be it, never expect me serviceable to the procurement of that wish, that is a second act, my hands are tied from at this t me.  La-g. 
Nay den, me tell you.  Sh. 
Discover his wish to day, and help him to't to morrow. Where were you now Sir, if my Monsieur should come upon you thus?  End. 
A French man, and stay till to morrow? That's a thing was never heard of; delays are not for them, they ne'er got by 'em.  La-g. 
I be quite tired out vitte service here in England, tired as one Jade, verefore me have a great mind, to return to me own poor Country again, to lay it my bones at home, and te money me scrape up in does; but begare it be one very Long Journey, and very dangerous too, danger upon te Sea, danger upon te Eaise; I be rob here or dear, no like dat very well, be killed, assassined, or drown in te sea, begare like that very vorse: an dat is te reason I come pray you, to secure my personne, and my purse, by some Enshantement, I no know how, to transport me at my home in one minute.  Lew. 
Oh Excellent Monsieur!  End. 
You see by this what they think of me Sh. and Raw. whisper. abroad. Pray heaven I don't take myself at last for that I'm given out for, these are strong temptations.  Bern. 
And so become a wise man by fancying Sh. whispers with End. yourself one;  Lew. 
As, they say, they do Witches, by strongly conceiting themselves Witches,  Sh. 
I ha' skill enough for this feat without my Master's meddling in't, I'll convey thee into France.  End. 
Prepare yourself against night, Monsieur for the Journey; Shift shall be ready too with what on our part is necessary.  La-g. 
I no dare trust him, little Coquin delny,  
Play me some tricque or toder.  End. 
No, no; his fellow Rawman there shall go  
Along too, and see fair play. Let's leave 'em  
To their work, and laugh at him a little.  Exeunt End. Lew. and Bern. La-g. 
Mister sirrah, do for me vat must be done  
Fair and honest, your Master command;  
You meddle in does business de juggle too den.  Raw. 
I'm half a Conjurer, since I serve him,  
And yet I came to him but a Rawman t'other day.  La-g. 
An he parboil your Coxcomb?  Sh. 
Pickle him a little in the black art, or so.  La-g. 
Indeed? but is he so knoing, tey say?  Sh. 
Hear him talk of a Man  
You'd think he had been in his belie,  
He's so acquainted with every cranny of his heart.  La-g. 
I no please me serve souche Master, a  
Valet no pass well his time vit him.  Sh. 
Why? I have a good place on't.  La-g. 
Place Vat you Vill, I no be bound serve one,  
I no dare tell lie to sometime.  Raw. 
'Tis somewhat a hard case, but it must be so here.  La-g. 
If he send you of arrant, you stay a great vile, you no dare make excuse; extend what I mean by excuse? Sh. Ouy, ovy.  La-g. 
I meet a friend by de Vay, I stay trink vit him a little, one, two, three, four hours (dat I learn in England tough) one no dare tell souche Man, Monsieur, make me stay for one answer, yet Company come, no can write; or I cherche him in several places, before I find: call at te tailleurs, see your suit be make. An oder Man satisfy vit one of tese, he know te contrary, he no satisfy vit 'tis nor notingue else, Vich de fear of put away, or receive distribution— you understand.  Raw. 
Ouy, ovy. La-g. on te head and shoulders put in one Mouse; you no dare go to de Cabaret, Venus he at the Comedy, nor make good shear vit the Maids at home; no, nor go to one bordello, Vile he at an oder.  Sh. 
Unless I knew he had such great business in hand, as lest him no leisure to think of me.  La-g 
And so I say again, me rader beg, steal, do any hardeship, ten serve one Master, I no dare tell lie to.  Sh. 
This necessity of speaking truth was something hard to me too at first, but I was forced to betake myself to't, and use, thou know'st, brings perfectness.  La-g. 
Dou dare not, (tough among discreet bodies, dat vill keep Counsel) tell tales of him, or recount his secrets.  Sh. 
No marry, dare I not; secrecy is that he chiefly requires of a servant.  La-g. 
And vat is vorse, if losing his money, or some todre ill humeur, make him Colerick, an he Vell-come you home Vit Coups de pied.  Sh. 
How now? La-g. or one good soufflet, or two.  Raw. 
Nay, nay; one's enough.  La-g. 
Dere is no complaining, 'tis so mouche for you; and fear of more, you must bite your tongue, and swallow your choler, as they say in my Country.  Sh. 
ay, sure enough.  La-g. 
Vat Consolation 'tis Monsieur Sift to swear and curse at souche Master? my bones no ache more▪ Venus 'mong my Camarades, I can give him heartily to all te devils.  Sh. 
I ha' got the length of his foot now,  
And seldom am in this predicament.  Raw. 
Besides he's good conditioned.  La-g. 
Good or bad, one fair morning I vould  
Pack up my nawles and be gone for all date.  Raw. 
Would not he know my mind, and so prevent me, had I any such intention?  La-g. 
Vhy dere's todre ting I no speak. You no dare run vaye neider, no dare tink of it, nor find one oder Master in secret, if does fall out vis you.  Raw. 
'Tis a common trick indeed of servants, that grow weary of one Master, to have another in reserve:  Sh. 
Like Women who (for fear of wanting) provide a second husband, before the first be dead; but that Providence We are debarred of too.  La-g. 
An odre incommodity I no reckon, an te gran incommodity of all; how you pick up money in 'tis service? a Man get no more but bare vages? Pewh! it is no Vorth Vile, I should be sorry to rob any body; begarre I make conscience of dat: but if Largent go torow my hands, 'tis like meal, flower, Vat you call? something stick, stick still to the fingers.  Sh. 
Ah sirrah! you go snip i' your Master's money then, you take toll, you black Miller, you, you more unavoidable thief than his Worship's tailor.  Raw. 
You make a Conscience of robbing, but you filch, you pilfer▪ you purloin unmercifully.  Sh. 
Thou hast a fine time on't, that we want; and Enjoyest a revenue, We dare not pretend to.  Raw. 
My Master hates theft beyond imagination, and I think that for a Tester (merciless as he is) he could find in's heart to have us taught to dance in a rope.  Sh. 
I'm sorry for thy sake thou camest to him, since thou art given that way; for finding it out (as doubtless he would by thy looks) he may very well tell thy Master.  La-g. 
Tell my Master? oh me lost, me lost! vat I do?  Raw. 
Why, thy worst is but to be hanged.  La-g. 
And is no dat bad enofe, my friend?  Sh. 
Perhaps thou mayst be quit for a singing  
Or so: thou canst read?  La-g. 
Yes, yes; if he did need to know one name, to tell one's fortune, or doings, den me attrape him very well, for Lagripe no me true name, me take datte, because me Vould gripe well good moneys here, and leave my own name Vit my Country, for one blow I do, how you call? a ting, Vich make me leave France; I no come into England, no, vitte Sr Christophore else.  Sh. 
Though he could not; yet knowing our names you've told all this to, he cannot when his list but know what has passed amongst us.  Raw. 
How could he else discover to the full what concerns him, or me: thou shalt find no ease on that side neither.  aside. Sh. 
No, no; We'll keep his fears up to the height still.  La-g. 
Dat very true too; but my good Sift, if it be possible, make he no tell.  Sh. 
Hast thou filched soundly?  La g. 
Not munch at a time.  Sh. 
But often?  La-g. 
Teventy or tirty a monts, but little, little every one, dat he no find: you call at Sessions Petty larceny.  Raw. 
Then a whipping perchance may serve.  La-g. 
A Vippingue? why many little tefts no amount to a great teft.  Raw. 
But they make thee a great thief;  
And may mount thee to the gallows.  Sh. 
Saving that, I know no way but one.  La-g. 
Oh good Sift, tell dat toder vay, I take dat rader.  Sh. 
My Master's head's so full now thou mayest get out of town, and he ne'er mind thee; go thy ways then presently, and pack up; if the old Knight should hear of thy pranks, he'll not send into France after thee.  La-g. 
If I be dear once, I no care dis for him; but I no dear yet.  Raw. 
Fetch but thy things, We'll set thee going.  La-g. 
'Tis great vay.  Raw. 
Were't further yet, We'll have thee thither to day.  Sh. 
But thou must be well provided against the cold; there blow certain winds at Sea, thou wilt not like.  La-g. 
Vat? at Midsummer?  Sh. 
I; as hot as 'tis at Land.  Raw. 
That's the only inconvenience of the Journey,  
But thou'lt be over in a hour or two.  La-g. 
I fear no Vindes nor Veader; I fear my Master more, and dine too: but how I be carried?  Raw. 
At ease, as e'er thou wert.  Sh. 
Meet me in thy Master's garden,  
I'll be there presently.  La-g. 
Let it be no long present, nor no perhaps.  Raw. 
Be you but ready.  La-g. 
If you no come, me very angry.  Sh. 
I will come, I tell thee.  Exit Lagripe. Raw. 
He's o'th' house of the Credulous too:  Sh. 
I'th' Lime already, boy.  Raw. 
There let him flutter.    

ACT V.  

The first SCENE, Lincoln's-Inne-Fields.  Enter Sr Christopher, Bellamy severally. Sr Chr. 
BEllamy, I have been seeking you;  Bell. 
Me Sir? I have my wish if I can serve you;  
Lay your commands upon me.  Sr Chr. 
A Courteous Gentleman, and a handsome one!  aside. 
Who would take him for a Pickpocket now  
By his looks? but fronti nulla sides.  Bell. 
What means he talking to himself to eye  aside. 
Me thus? has he already discovered  
Our Love, the art We used to hide it too?  
Cruel fates! so speedy in your malice?  Sr Chr. 
Foolish man that I am! I can scarce find in my aside. heart to speak to him now, I would not shame him quite; I must dissemble, and pretend that some other way my ring is fallen into his hands. To be brief with you, there is a certain Jewel wanting, a small toy a ring, or so, and I am told, you have it.  Bell 
How soon are all my hopes blasted?  aside. Sr Chr. 
How he is struck? his very Countenance pleads guilty.  aside. Bellamy. 
This the fair success I flattered myself with?  aside. Sr Chr. 
I do not say, Bellamy, you are faulty,  
But the party you have it by.  Bellamy, 
With what obstinacy are we persecuted?  aside. Sr Chr. 
Trouble not yourself; 'tis the hand alone  
You have it from is guilty;  
You are otherwise justifiable enough.  Bell. 
I have the Diamond, Sir, I can't denie't,  Gives him his Ring. 
And here am ready to restore it you.  
You're prepossessed, I fear, by some, with a  
False story of the means I wrought it by;  
But if truth may be heard, as sure it ought  
In spite of their insinuations, the guilt  
Is all mine, I have no Complices;  
Rather die, than Peach Clarinda.  aside. Sr Chr. 
I seek to excuse him, and he fondly accuses himself  aside Bellamy. 
Let's clear her, all we can. I tell you, Sir,  
What e'er you've heard, I am in all the fault,  
Nor do I plead aught to attenuate.—  Sr Chr. 
How strangely does a guilty Conscience wring him?  
I palliate his fault, he exaggerates it.  aside. Bellamy. 
I seek not therefore to attenuate  
A Crime, which when I first designed.—  Sr Chr. 
I am not ignorant of the Fact, Bellamy, set no misseeming gloss upon't, I know the naked truth; but though I do, the knowledge of it shall not hurt you.  Bellamy. 
There's no dissembling with you then;  
Plain-dealing, now is best I do confess.—  Sr Chr. 
Oh, Do you so, Sir? Do you so? but look to't another time; for, Confess and be hanged, D''ee mark? that's the Word.  aside. Bellamy. 
I do confess my furtive actions then,  
My Stealth, my Clandestine approaches, and  
The surprisal▪ of a Jewel, which I see,  
I am in your opinion too  
Unworthy of: 'tis true, I am too bold,  
Nor can I ought in my defence now plead:  
'Twas the predominance of some ill Star  
I'll say, since it brings your displeasure,  
Forced me to what is past.  Sr Chr. 
I am not so severe a Judge neither;  
I have been young myself, and can not now  
Be ignorant what youth is subject to;  
And some occasions seem to force our will,  
Such powerful allurements they tempt it with.  Bellamy. 
Yet though my indesert seem to forbid  
All hope of pardon, by your own goodness  
Sir, I dare Conjure you.—  Sr Chr. 
Yes, yes, I am merciful, I tell you,  
And can excuse: having my Ring too, I  aside. 
May hold my peace; 'tis an ordinary course  
When a Man has his Good's again,  
To wave the prosecution.  aside. Bellamy. 
I must not lose this opportunity,  
I shall not take him in the mood again.  
Since you with so much goodness can excuse,  To him. 
Be good still, Sir, and to justify me  
Thoroughly, Authorise my crime,  
And give Clarinda leave  
To crown my passion with approved consent;  
Permit me, Sir, to Marry her.  Sr Chr. 
Marry my Daughter? for what acquaintance trow?  
The Man's mad sure, or I am mad myself;  aside. 
He thinks me so at least, he'd ne'er talk thus else.  Bellamy. 
Though my means are small, I have a heart yet,  
No frowning fortune, no adversity  
Can bring under; and am of a Family  
From which some richer ones may receive no  
Small lustre; look on me then, Sir, with eyes  
Not interess'd, or greedy of more wealth;  
And you will see no cause to scorn th' alliance.  S Chr. 
I● cannot be in earnest sure all this,  aside. 
Or with the least thought of persuading me:  
Finding some danger in the Trade of Cutpurse,  
He's now fallen to, he will grow wise, and take  
I●p●a● my cost for which purpose he must  
Needs marry my Daughter forsooth; this is  
One of the finest Fools.  laughs. Bell. 
He's something long-a-considering on't.  aside. Sr Chr. 
Let him steal, let him pick, let him cut, as many aside Purses, or Pockets, as he please; let him be hanged too, and he will, he'll not disoblige me in't at all: but for Marrying my Daughter, Pardonnez moy, Monsieur; well, Bellamy, I promise you, what ever you have said.  Bell. 
Your Daughter, Sir?  Sir Chr. 
Secrecy, Sir, secrecy; I'll keep your Counsel,  
And that's no small courtesy, I hope.  Exit. Bellamy. 
Was ever Man in such a maze as I?  
His fav'rable construction of what's past,  
Seems to invite a full Confession:  
And when he knows my passion for his daughter,  
He promises secrecy, and cries, he  
Will keep Counsel. 'Tis the crossest this of  
All my cross fortunes.  To him Celia, Fannie, Luce. 
This importune Woman is another;  
Let's give her the slip.  Cel. 
Stay, Bellamy, and be civil at least,  
If you cannot be kind.  
Is that heart than I have so long thought mine  
An others Captive now?  
Inconstancy and breach of Faith, it seems,  
Are pleasing grown to him, so often Vowed  
The Virtue's contrary; the change itself  
Is ordinary enough, nor am I  
The first forsaken she.  
But yet to shun a sight, you once  
Swore, pleased you 'bove all others, is too strong  
An effect, methinks, of a new passion;  
'Tis past indifferency this, even to scorn;  
You might remember that you loved me once.  Bellamy. 
Say, I esteemed you, Madam: Love  
In the respects I paid you, had least share;  
My obligations t'ee were great,  
And so I strove to bear a mind  
Full of resentments for your noble favours,  
A grateful, though not passionate heart.  
But 'tis no time for such disguises now,  
'Tis fit each action wear its proper name,  
Own its true motive;  
Lay your credulity then aside,  
For love has bound me in those fetters now,  
Must ne'er be cut but with my thread of life.  Cel. 
With what art this studied declaration  
In such ambiguous terms is couched,  To Lu. 
It may be made for me as for another?  
He neither named Celia, nor Clarinda.  Lu. 
'Tis as plain though, he means her, as if he had.  Fan. 
But you are so credulous, as he tells you.  Bell. 
This night I waited on you by your own appoinment, what my reception was, you cannot have forgot, th' affront was to premeditate; you could not afford me one serious word, no, nor your ear a minute: think not the return I make you strange then, nor wonder, that I shun you now, as you did me; 'twas your command I should, and I obey you, Madam.  Exit. Lu. 
He's in love w'ee, you will believe it still?  Cel. 
He does, he does love me, I tell thee, strangely.  Fan. 
'Tis strangely indeed, if he loves at all;  
And as strangely he shows it.  Cel. 
'Tis but a trial when he slights me thus,  
'Tis then he loves me passionately;  
This sense of my odd carriage in the night  
Is most becoming, and I take it kindly:  
We're indifferent to him, he would mind it less,  
Loving me, as he does, he must resent it thus.  Lu. 
With an other, you see, he does himself  
Confess he is in love.  Cel. 
For trial still, I tell thee, he affects  
Inconstancy, as he does scorn;  
And for revenge perhaps a little too  
He seeks to vex me thus; all's dissembling,  
Nor does he strive to make me Jealous, but  
To discover at full the kindness I have  
For him; 'tis that, I see, he aims at,  
Endymion told me 'twould be so.  Fan. 
Nay, for him, he's a cheat, I'm sure, what ever the other be.  Lu. 
He has abused you, Madam, all-a-long,  
His predictions are mere fictions,  
Mere impostures.  
You might (but that you were before you spoke with him, strangely persuaded of his skill) have seen it in his whole proceeding.  Fan. 
He but deludes you with vain hopes,  
Bellamy does forsake you.  Lu. 
Can you be ignorant he adores Clarinda?  Fan. 
Gratian assures you of it too.  Cel. 
I trust not to what Gratian says; he has  
Cast off all thoughts of friendship, and without  
The least regard to Bellamy, or his love,  
Is hourly troubling me with his own,  
You see he is.  
I give no credit to a Rival's story.  To them Gratian, Lewis. 
For whatsoe'er of Bellamy he says,  
I've cause to fear, but reason still to doubt.  Ler. 
Rather believe him, Madam; for you'll find  
Gratian'ss Story is a true one. His love  
Though violent, can hear some reason yet,  
And keep within the bounds of honour; think  
Not then, he seeks by treachery to win you,  
By base suggestions to supplant his friend.  Grat. 
While I thought him worthy of you,  
Or could on any grounds believe him yours,  
What did I, Madam, or what said I, to  
Cross your fair affections?  
I was all friend then, moved not one step  
Out of my Confidents path, for him was  
All I spoke, my own cause I pleaded but  
With silence, allowed it not the least complaint,  
But what was fair from reaching him, or you;  
Or if some time a sudden sigh broke through  
The care I used to keep 'em in, how soon  
Like to some blusht-at, or unlawful issue,  
Did I disavow it, nay, lay it to  
Another? but the concealment  
Of my sufferings and his injuries t'ee,  
Would not a kindness now to Bellamy prove  
That false Bellamy?  Cel. 
How loath am I yet to believe him such?  aside. 
Can he be false to Celia, that thought so  To them. 
Well of him? She that so truly loved him?  Grat. 
'Tis strange a heart once yours, should ever own  
An other Conqueror: but he is false, false  
To the fairest Celia, false, as miserable  
In this Exchange.  Cel. 
Bellamy forsakes me?  Grat. 
Perhaps 'tis with regret, a sharp remorse  
Perhaps poisons all the sweets he leaves you Sir  
Yet he forsakes you still; and with his own  
Consent I tell you so.  Cel. 
And 'tis Clarinda  
Robs me of this beloved Perjurer?  Ler. 
But now We left him at Sr Christopher's.  Grat. 
And lest we should mistake him any longer  
Gratian, (cried he to me, as he went in)  
I know your passion, and cease t'oppose it,  
I quit all claim to Celia; for if love  
Have happiness for me, 'tis in Clarinda's Arms.  Cel. 
May I believe all this?  Ler. 
A greater truth ne'er challenged your belief.  Grat. 
Alas! he never left the town, but lurked  
At my house for private meetings  
With Clarinda, whom he saw night by night.  
A truth though, no Interest of my own  
Had e'er extorted, did not yours claim it,  
And his allowance Manumize the secret.  Cel. 
No more; my doubt is over, and the mist  
Love cast before my eyes thus vanished, more  
Hatesul, as more hated does he appear,  
Then ever he seemed lovely, nor was my  
Affection ever half so strong, as now  
My anger is▪ Gratian, do you love me?  Grat. 
Oh Madam!  kiss her hand, sighing. Cel. 
How can I ever believe Man again,  
When Bellamy is false? yet follow me,  
If your affection be sincere, as you  
Protest; Celia is yours; but bring me to  kiss it again passionately. 
Clarinda's, and make my own eyes witness  
His crime, that I may do you Justice there  
Before his face; serve my anger so far,  
And second the revenge I do intend,  
That he may see himself forsaken, as he  
Forsakes, and there (if I may have my wish)  
Shall he repent his perjury,  Lu. 
That I believe too.  Cel. 
Yet all in vain.  
Lost to all hopes of e'er recovering  
What he so basely does renounce; there let  
Him pine to find me in another's arms,  
And without hopes of either Mistress, see  
Clarinda scorn him, as he now does me.  Fan. 
A fine humour this, Luce;  Lu. 
An 'twould hold.  Lew. 
Oh, it must hold.  Fan. 
Whether Love will or no?  Exeunt.  

SCENE II. Sir Christopher 's Garden.  Enter Lagripe in a travelling habit. 
A Dieu, London, adieu; I go see my own natural Contree again: an France be ne'er so bad, or England so good, better be alive dear, den hang here.  To him Shift, Rawman. Raw. 
How now, art ready?  La-g. 
Dou seest, te good Capotte, Vit my bots' ala Candalle  Sh. 
'Tis well, 'tis well, thou hast clad thyself warm; the Journey's something bleak, as I told thee.  La-g. 
I put 'tis hood over my face, for fear te cold, and some todre ting make me lose my nose quite.  Raw. 
I think indeed 'tis something loose set on.  Sh. 
Zymar, Haly, Behemoth, Albenzera.  
Get into this Circle.  La-g. 
Vat dou Mumble, mumble in te teeth?  
Say te divells Pater noster, I tinke.  Sh. 
Words of art, words of art: but 'tis done already. Thou must be hoodwinked now.  La-g. 
Pourquoy?  Sh. 
There are reasons for't, I warrant you.  La-g. 
Your Jockeys, I hear say, ride temself blind,  
But for vate I be make blind, before I ride.  Sh. 
With the great light, and that prodigious height thou wilt be mounted to thy eyes would be dazzled, and thou giddily come tumbling down.  Raw. 
Who knows too how near thou mayest come to the Sun, thy Lids would not save 'em from scorching then, nor the distillations still overflowing quench the fire.  Sh. 
That briny dew would add more fury to't.  Raw. 
Then thy nose would melt off indeed,  
But this muffler saves all.  La-g. 
Indeed me have grand distraction, to see all te World at one time, I can no hinder myself from be peeping in every corner; I tinkue I mind me business better, and see noting, deresore blind me, I am content: but how I ride? Vat be carried on? vere that?  Raw. 
I need but whistle, and 'tis here.  La-g. 
Is it a saddle horse, or one Coach?  Raw. 
No, no; a pad-nag.  La-g. 
A bad nag? begare me vill have a good nag, or no go at all your Vay.  Raw. 
Thou shalt have a good one;  
I say, a pad-nag, a fine gentle pacer.  La-g. 
Oh cry you mercy, Understand now; my Master ride such one himself, 'tis very easy for us old Men: but Who be my guide? Vat if I lose my vaie? it very like; for I no travel dat rode before.  Sh. 
There's a question indeed! thou shalt have a little Orange-tawny devil to lackey by thy side.  La-g. 
A devil lackey? I no hear of souch before.  Sh. 
Why, half the lackeys about the town are devils, Man, and in thy Country they are ten times worse.  La-g. 
Dat's true indeed; but I always hear say, te devil very proud, and think he no take so mean place.  Sh. 
Some of 'em I grant are above it, but there are enough to supply all places, and he will put on any shape, rather than not make one.  Raw. 
Which is to play at small game, rather than sit out.  Sh. 
Shall I tell thee? there are devils of all functions and qualities, trades and callings whatsoever.  Raw. 
Alas, the Mystery of every trade is knavery,  
And that leads directly to him.  
There are Sergeants, and Bailiff-divils.  Sh. 
And divillishly are they used, when they meddle with a guard-man, or any of the Boulley Rocks indeed.  Raw. 
Some neat, dapper, well-handed fiends are cut out into Barbers, Tire-women, and Valets de chambre;  Sh. 
Of which there come such shoules out of thy Country:  Raw. 
Your nimbler handed ones make Tailors, and Weavers.  Sh. 
Thieving devils: he devils, and she devils.  La-g. 
Vat Woman devils?  Sh. 
Oh sans nombre: and they make cuckolds.  La-g. 
Te devil Cuckold too?  Sh. 
How should he come by his horns else?  Raw. 
And for more fiendly variety, there are sage devils, and mad devils; hectoring devils, and cowardly devils; quaking devils—  La-g. 
Yes, in frost and snow; I have been such one myself, before I come to good Anglish Coal fires.  Raw. 
But these quake now, at Midsummer.  La-g. 
Begare trow 'em in te river, and make  
Quake for some ting.  Sh. 
Come, thou stayest a devilish while here,  
'Tis time thou wert gove.  hoodwinked him. Raw. 
There are water-devils too; but those we call dippers.  Sh. 
Rumpers and thumpers. Raw. Zealous and impious.  Sh. 
Precise and profane.  Raw. 
Merry devils, and very devils, commonly known by the name of fanatics.  Sh. 
But thine's come; get up, get up.  La-g. 
Oh undo, undo; I see if mine be a horned devil; your men Cuckolds hide teir horn so, you no see a great manies; I long to see how te devil wear his.  Sh. 
'Twere worth seeing indeed: but let every Cuckold wear his own horns, and as he pleas himself: this is a bachelor devil; one though that having no apes to lead in hell, comes to lead a baboon into France.  La-g. 
Vat's dat? Vat's dat? I have great Curiosity  
To look him in face.  Raw. 
Take heed, 'tis dangerous; he has a more dreadful countenance ten times then thy old Master.  holding his hands. La-g. 
Gare, and he one I no mouche care for see now.  Raw. 
'Tsufficient he conduct thee into France;  
Then see him, and spare not.  La-g. 
I look him out of Countenance, Venus I am dear.  Sh. 
Come, get up, get up.  horses him on a rail or hedge with a cushion under him. La-g. 
Well Monsieur te devil, do not quit me, Venus you get me in one strange place, bring me safe in my country, and den I can do well enof vit out you.  Sh. 
ne'er fear him, he'll not leave thee so,  ties him to't. 
Thou art too good a bit for him.  La-g. 
For Vat you tie so hard, Master Sift?  
is it you, or te devil?  Sh. 
He's afraid thou wilt slip from him.  La-g. 
No, no, I varrant's you, if he no run  
Way from me.  Raw. 
If he does, ride after him;  
Thou art damnably well mounted.  Sh. 
Is't easier now?  Let's him a little loser. La-g. 
ay, I, now 'tis well; but uho untie me, when I come home, I can no do't myself, I no see.  Sh. 
It shall be done to thy hand,  
When thou art at thy Journey's end.  La-g. 
O Sift, Sift, I forgot; Vill 'tis Jade carry in crupper, Vat you call in England? double, double, carry double?  Sh. 
Why dost ask?  La-g. 
I take my felloe Beatrige along Vit me, she ride behind; very good company for te devil, and for me too, very good in te vay.  Sh. 
Yes, too good for thee, old Jew; what ride double? aside. to him. No, no, ride post to th' devil, the old saying is; I could have ordered it so, she might have gone too; but 'tis too late now, and thou must take the Journey single, as thou art.  La-g. 
Well, well, 'tis no matter; I get an odre in France.  Sh. 
By this token know thou art within ken; a doleful Voice thou shalt first hear; at thy arrival, wrangling or confused talk, than louder Lamentations; but fare thee well, set forward.  Raw. 
Commend us to our friends in Paris.  La-g. 
Yes, yes; dat I vill.  in a hollow tone as from a far Sh. 
Adieu, Monsieur Lagripe, adieu.  Raw. 
Adieu, Lagripe, adieu; with what speed thou fliest?  Sh. 
How he cleaves the air? he's gone, has gone;  
I can scarce discern him now.  La-g. 
I do perceive I fly very fast indeed, for now I hardly hear teir Voice, my Ears take but te last Accents, as of one very remote.  Raw. 
A right Frenchman! bread in's pocket;  Sh. 
Where's the Cheeze?  Raw. 
Oh, that's at his Toes to haut-goust.  Sh. 
Which he calls refining.  La-g. 
I be in France presant, I drink good Claret Vine, pure, pure; no mingle mangle, red and white, as here in England.  Sh. 
Do, fuddle thy Nose, and if they pick thy pocket I'll pay the reckoning.  Having picked his Pocket. La-g. 
I take Sift for one little Quenave,  
And he prove honest little Fellow.  Sh. 
Yes, I warrant you.  La-g. 
Rawman too, very well versed, experienced—  Raw. 
In thy Pockets.  La-g. 
Te beast tey set me upon, go as easy  
Too, as no stir at all.  Sh. 
If it does, they are mistaken.  La-g. 
No shake, shake me; need no spur neider.  Raw. 
The ill mannered Jade would hardly answer to't.  La-g. 
I be as still as in me Bed, sure I very good Horseman.  Sh. 
For the Wooden-horse.  La-g. 
I no loose in te Saddel.  Sh. 
Nor in the Hilts?  La-g. 
'Tis very wholesome air, I grow very hungry.  Sh. 
You stuffed your Pockets, as if you'd known you should—  La-g. 
But Vat Vind tis? stinking Vind too,  R. Biows in's face with a pair of bellows. 
Tell me dear blow,  
One Vind very cold, and so 'tis indeed,  
I see he know all tings in te vay, as  
He go it himself.  Sh. 
An other gale, an other gale.  La-g. 
Te Vind turn; sure my Beard freeze wit 'tis blow, blow. I fear my Nose too for all 'tis good Capotte, I no dare feel how 'tis neider.  blows on t'other side. Sh. 
There's company come in to th' garden,  
We must away.  Raw. 
Jog on, jog on good Antiquity.  Sh. 
You're almost at your Journeys end.  Exit. Sh. Raw. Enter Bellamy, Clarinda with a thin hood on. Clar. 
Discovered already? So soon betrayed  
Unto my Father's knowledge?  
What hard fates, Bellamy, attend our Loves?  Bell. 
You stand yet▪ blameless in your Father's eye;  
I wholly drew the Crime upon myself,  
And rather chose to pass for a suborner,  
Then you should forward seem, in the disposal  
Of that he claims it is his right to give.  Clar. 
No, no; We do but fool ourselves with hopes,  
There is no ground left for that self-flattery.  Bell. 
Soon as he taxed me with the Ring, I rendered it,  
That precious pledge of thy unmatched affection:  
Let not thy grief precede our misery though,  
He neither showed, nor threatened any rigour,  
He spoke but in his wonted tone, rather  
Amazed then angry, and used me (trust me  
Sweet he did) with much mildness still; and seemed  
(By arguing the business with himself)  
Something irresolute what course to take;  
And I dare hope, if from thyself he hear  
Thou dost affect me, it may incline him  
To allow thy choice.  Clar. 
I that will do't, I'll dry my eyes again,  
We'll ne'er be wretched sure, when speaking truth  
Can make us happy. If this may win him,  
Clarinda's yours; once more I tell you so.  Bell. 
What grief is proof against this joy?  
Or what misery has a name, which these words  
Clarinda's mine, would not charm into happiness?  Clar. 
I'm yours for ever, or no Man's; he that can debarr me of this felicity, shall not add to my affliction, being an others.  Bell. 
Such bliss in silence still is best received,  
I want words to give full thanks.  La-g. 
I understand some noise of Tongues, some People talking a great way of, sure I ride over some great City; Is it Canterbury? no, no, I hope I be pass te Seas.  To them Beatrix running in. Clar. 
How now? Is there any body come in?  Beat. 
Oh yes, Sir Christopher, and the ginger forsooth; he's no body without him now: he was wont to dote upon wealth, and then our House was nothing but Aldermen, and Citizens, that write themselves Esquire, and Country Knights, that never came to Town, but for a new Purchase: but that fit's over now, and learning is his babble.  Clar. 
They interupt us too soon, I would not  
Have him see you yet, Endymion being with him too.  Bell. 
Can I not slip out?  Clar. 
No, I know his walks, he uses at his entrance to take that, should now lead you out; but step aside, i'th' close walk he'll not discover you: and there, if boldly speaking in our cause may carry it, you'll hear me plead for you as you were here yourself.  Bell. 
You are all goodness, Madam.  Exit. La-g. 
Good Devil, look to me, if I be at Sea, for I can no swim.  To them Sir Christopher Credulous, Endymion, Bernard, Shift. End. 
A most delicious garden this!  Sr Chr. 
'Tis my Whore, Sir, 'tis my Whore;  
Here I delight, and consume myself.  Sh. 
That's e'en a Whore's trick indeed  Sr Chr. 
Here, Clarinda, here's thy Ring again.  Clar. 
Must I endure that object in my Eye?  To B. pulling down her hood. Turning it up. Sr Chr. 
What so coy, Mistress? Will you not parley unveiled?  Clar. 
The Sun's too hot, Sir, I never walk in't  Pulling it down again. 
Without my Hood, I shall be tanned.  S ● Chr. 
And you be, and you be, 'tis but one Takes it quite off. lick more, you have that in your Closet, I know, can fetch it off again; here Gentlewoman, Throws it Beat. that belongs to your care.  End. 
I longed to see how Clarinda did behave her To Bern. self after all these odd accidents, and how she'd look upon me.  Bern. 
She's too much discomposed;  End. 
She is, and I too well revenged; I pity her.  Sr Chr. 
'Tis not a civil welcome this, of a person thou art so lately, and so much obliged too; 'tis to him thou art engaged for the recovery of thy Ring; I thought thou wouldst have slown into his arms, had helped thee to't again, thou wert so lost for want of it.  Beat. 
Gladly into his, that had it.  To Sh. End. 
Your Father, Madam, is pleased to name an Obligation So slight, I dare not think it one.  Sh. 
'Tis one indeed, she con's you little thanks.  aside. End. 
But if kind Heaven prosper what I intent,  
A solid and important service shall  
Prove the Zeal I have to please you.  Clar. 
You have already, Sir, obliged me, more  
Than I can thank you for.  La-g. 
By te different noises I find I pass from place to place; and now I tink I am at Callais; gare te Steeples, if I be.  To them Gratian, Lewis, Celia, Fannie, Luce, Sr Chr. 
Here's more Company, What lady's that? or what would she?  
She looks with an earnest, and a busy face.  Beat. 
With an angry one, methinks.  Sh. 
'Tis a pretty little angry Rogue,  
Would I had the pleasing of her.  Beat. 
You please her? please me? and hear the Lady.  Cel. 
Wonder not Sir, at so abrupt a visit,  
I come for Justice t'ee; We are both wronged,  
Both abused by one unconstant Man; one  
That when a thousand Oaths had made him mine,  
Your Daughter has stolen from me; nay, start not,  He seems amazed▪ 
She loves him infinitely; he ne'er had left  
Me for an unkind one, no, no they burn  
In mutual flames; and in your house, or Garden  
Is he now concealed, now, this very minute:  
Do me reason then, and yourself Justice.  Grat. 
I wish he be here, for I begin to fear,  aside 
Finding Clarinda without him.  La g. 
Sure 'tis is te doleful Voice, te lamentation; good sign, good sign, I be almost come home.  Sr Chr. 
How! a man hidden in my house? a plot, a plot; fetch me my rapier there, I'll poak him out of his hole; a plot upon my daughter.  Beat. 
Your daughter's plot upon you rather.  aside. Clar. 
'Tis an increase of misery this, I never feared;  aside. 
She's very handsome; what then? nay, I think  eyeing Cel. 
Bellamy did love her once; no matter:  
Coming just i'th' nick too, when he is here,  
Silence my Jealousy,  
I've trouble enough without thee.  Sh. 
Pox of this bustle, 'twill land our Traveller too soon.  aside Clar. 
My father, I hope, suspects not me  
In any close contrivance—  Sr Chr. 
Nay, nay, 'tis best for you be clear; I will think well o' thee so long as I may; but if thou be'st faulty, th' hast lost a f iend of me: I le rage no higher, till I see th'accusation proved.  Bell. 
Poor Clarinda!  peeping out. 
With what increase of trouble I see thine?  Lew. 
They are all to pieces now indeed.  End. 
I have a solder for 'em yet.  La-g. 
I am come home sure, I hear such confused tones, and lamentable voices.  Sr Chr. 
Come, Madam, first let's make the garden sure,  
This way— hah! what have we here?  
This is a skare-crow—  La-g. 
'tis is te very noise, Sift tell me of; devil, divell, Vere be you, my Lacquey-divell? untie, untie me.  Sr Chr. 
What Pageant's this: 'tis La-gripe's dialect.  Sh. 
'Tis our Traveller, Sir.  to End. 
He thinks himself in France already.  End. 
A hasty Monsieur indeed; but  
'Tis no time for this mirth now: help him down.  La-g. 
Now I be come, now I be come; never make being got off. Journey vit so much ease. O my Mother Earth, I must kiss d'ee for Joy.  Sr Chr. 
Why how now?  La-g. 
You be got into my Country too? but ease me of one scruple, how you come? he lend you one pad-nag too? vat co▪ lour your Vorship's devil? mine Orange-tawny, dat his colours of old, you know: I dare swear now my Master's be one aside. horned fiend and dat I fear is horn to horn.  Sr Chr. 
He's mad sure; see where thou art, in London,  
In my garden; see thy young Mistress too, Beatrix.—  La-g. 
Begare I be so indeed. I be base besheat, stares about him gets up, searches his pockets. my purse gone into France, or some Vere else ah dou dog-rogue Sift, I have thee by the ears present.  Sh. 
If the devil pick thy pocket, can I help it?  Ex. La-g. running after Shift. Sr Chr. 
This is not the concealed Lover, you mean, Madam;  
'Tis a disguised one rather I think this.  Cel. 
I look after no such mouldy ware, Sir.  
'T was not this. I hope, you brought me to see.  to Grat. Grat. 
Madam you'll find things yet, as I gave 'em out t'ee.  Clar. 
If they would search no further now.  End. 
You'll pardon, Sir, my Man's boldness, I hope,  to Sr Chr. 
That plays the knave thus with yours.  Sr Chr. 
'Tis easily pardoned to preserve your friendship:  
But to our other business, our serious trouble.  Bell. 
They turn this way; better show myself,  peeping out again 
Then be found sneaking here.  Celestina 
Let's seek this way.  Bell. 
Seek him no further, Madam, here he is.  steps forth. Cel. 
Ungrateful, faithless Man!  Sr Chr. 
Ha! Is it he?  Fan. 
You perjured man, you; have we found you?  Bell. 
Nay, never rail, nor throw at me those undeserved  
Reproaches; there is a Lady here, can vouch my constancy.  Sr Chr. 
What Planet was my Girl born under trow?  
I seek her Lover, and find a thief, a Pickpocket.  
You lay perdu upon some new design now, there are more Jewels in the house, Cabinets unrifled; I pray God there be. Ent. Shift again. This is their trick to a hair; slip in th' dusk of the Evening, and when we are all fast, open the doors to an inundation of Vermin. A pox on this thieve's handsel, I knew there was worse to follow.  Cel. 
The Man's beside himself sure, to wrong a Gentleman thus barbarously; though I have reason not to think him innocent, yet I dare pawn my life, the base guilt you charge him with, is none of's crime. What mean you then by this abusive Language?  Sr Chr. 
Alas! he understands me, Madam.  Bell. 
Not very well, Sir.  
What draws this scandalous reproach?  
I am no thief, my Enemy, I dare swear,  
If I have any, will answer for me:  
My mind is set on nobler objects far,  
My name and family free from the least stain  
Of such ignoble ways; nor have you ought  
In all your vast possessions I value,  
But your daughter.  
'Tis her I love, this year and more she has  
Been Mistress of my life and hopes; the Ring  
You taxed me with, from her hand I newly  
Had received: and if the sternness of a  
Father's brow fright not a timorous Maid from  
Free discovery of such thoughts, ask her, and  
What she makes not good of all my story,  
Repute me liar in; a name  
I would not for your wealth deserve.  Sr Chr. 
Speak, Clarinda, says he true? dost love him?  
Speak boldly, and the truth, what ere it be,  
It shall be welcome to a father's ear.  Clar. 
Heaven knows I need not blush to own it,  
And yet I do, I love him, Sir,  
And have done this—  Sr Chr. 
Nay, nay, than the rest is plain enough: well  
We must make the best of a bad market.  Sr Chr. and End whisper 
Endymion your advice.  Fan. 
ne'er advise with him, he's a mere impostor.  Clar. 
Now will he raise a new storm.  Beat. 
Never fear him, his Astrologies well worn out by this.  Bell. 
Let my Poniard prevent his malice.  Sh. 
He's born to be hanged I see; because he proves no thief, he'll commit murder.  Bern. 
Celia's yours, I tell you; Endymion  
Has no love for Clarinda, I know he has not.  Grat. 
That assurance revives me.  End. 
Assist me now, kind Stars,  
To put a period to these Lovers pains,  aside. 
And I'll ne'er trouble you with an other Suit.  S Chr. 
My honour lies at state; what shall I do?  To End. End. 
A fatal chain these several accidents  
Are linked together in, no breaking;  
Yield, yield to what heaven has decreed, and  
Is indeed above half done to your hands;  
These Lovers were made for one another,  
I almost told you so before, in the  
Description of the Man she is ordained for;  
And since one rich in Virtue, not in Land,  
Must be your Son in Law, where could you better choose,  
Frank Bellamy is nobly bred, as born:  
Give free consent then to their happiness,  
Let it a fruit of your indulgence to 'em,  
And not a forced allowance now appear;  
That mingled with the joys we shall wish them,  
Our thanks to you on their behalf may flow.  Sr Chr. 
Well, what must be, must be; I cannot fail however in following that path Heaven has traced out for me. Bellamy, I embrace you as my Son, my Daughter's yours.  Bell. 
And I for ever to your goodness bound.  
Oh my Clarinda, now you're mine indeed.  Cel. 
Is it thus you keep your promise, Sir Christopher?  
This the Justice I looked for?  
My honour suffers still.  Sr Chr. 
There was no other salve for mine; and Charity begins at home, good Lady; remember that still. As much reason, for aught I know, to Marry, as to christian my own Child first.  Cel. to Bell. 
to go, follow that misleading light,  
Triumph in thy inconstancy, and let  
Thy now-Mistress taste of it in time too;  
'Tis that, 'tis that will do me right.  
Come, Gratian, I'll keep my word with you;  
We'll straight to Church.  Grat. 
Most willingly; sweet Lady, I must take her i'th' fit.  Fan. 
'T would soon be over else.  End. 
Nay, let's not part in anger, Madam; there  Staying her, She slights him. 
Are Weddings towards, We should be friends,  
And merry then; Lewis call Gratian back.  Lew. 
Stay.  Bell. 
A Woman's anger is soon over.  Fan. 
And a Lad's Love as soon out.  Bell. 
Or let it last, who cares?  Fan. 
Or the other, who's the better for't?  Cel. 
Come, let's hear now, what fine new device you stay me for; Oh! you are a sweet Gentleman, to pass for an ginger, and have no more skill than my Chambermaid, or Fannie there.  Fan. 
Truly nor so much, for we began to smell him out.  Clar. 
When the fit takes you next to make love, Sir,  Jeeringly. 
Trust to your merit, and not your science,  
That you see has deceived you; the match is made now  
You set all your Engines a work to break.  
How shallow is this art you bragged of?  
Or, How little are you versed in't?  Cel. 
You told me 'twas but to make trial of me,  
Bellamy courted Clarinda, and that  
'Twas I he loved, when the first sight of him  
Proves the contrary; the Stars lend you but  
A dim light, it seems, that can no better  
Read our destiny by it.  Grat. 
Did you not persuade me too, that Celia  
Ceased to love Bellamy? when Heaven knows  
What torture the continued expressions  
Of her kindness to him, have put me to.  
Burn your books, Sir, burn your books for shame,  
Your lying books.  Bell. 
'Tis well for him now, I ne'er was curious  
Enough to peep into my destiny,  
Nor given that inquisitive way;  
I must have had a fling at him too,  
Which needs not; there are malcontents enough  
To worry him without me.  To them Lagripe, Rawman. La-g. 
If te Damoisells have done vit teir tale, please you have mine, It is a foul tale, I assure you, of accusation against 'tis Astrolog too, Did you no promise send me into France fine new way, and me be here in London still? I be Judge by all te Company, if me no here: and vat is very worse, you say I go wit out Robbing, and begare me lose my Purse.  End. 
Your grievance is of weight indeed.  La-g. 
Of veight? gare my grievance be, you make me lighter by all my Money.  End. 
That's easily redressed, give him his Purse again;  
And no more of these slippery tricks.  Sh. 
'Twas but a trick of wit, Sir;  
I hope you'll remember the Ensurer, Monsieur.  Giving it him. La-g. 
Yes, I assure you one halter, if you play more such trick of vit.  End. 
Now to my pretty chiders:  
For even in that, Ladies, you upbraid me with,  
Have I matter enough to make my peace.  Cel. 
With help of some strange hard non sense,  
Your Worship's terms of Art.  End. 
In plain English, but first your pardon, Sir,  
That I durst play the ginger with you,  
When ne'er in all my Studies, nor my Travels  
I spent a serious minute to become one.  Sir Chr. 
You are no ginger then?  End. 
None, in good sooth, Sir.  Sir Chr. 
You told me so before indeed;  
Though my itch of Learning would not let me  
Credit it: but now I do believe you▪  
He'd ne'er degrade himself in public thus,  
Could he maintain the height  
My credulity had raised him to.  End. 
And thus may you the better now forgive  
The error you've been in, that still were deaf  
To whatsoe'er I said to disabuse you.  
If sooner, Madam, than you durst expect,  To Clar. 
A Father's liking crown your Love, and his,  
You may thank me for't; your match had ne'er been  
Clapped up thus o'th' sudden, had he not on my  
Insinuation believed it made in Heaven.  Sr Chr. 
Truth, I think it had not.  End. 
Nor have I done less for you, if well considered,  
Was it fit so fair a stock of beauty  To Cel. 
Should lie begging of a beggar still?  
I ve placed you where you'll brightest shine,  
Where love with interest will be paid you back,  
Kiss for kiss were poor retaliation.  
Bellamy, whom I saw adore Clarinda,  
Was not an Idol fit for you to worship;  
While Gratian's heart became a burning sacrifice  
With fire shot from your killing eyes.  Bern. 
Now he tickle's her.  Lew. 
She'll forgive all her enemies  
For such another clawing speech.  Bell. 
Let them complain that suffer, I have my wish;  
Nor is your share, I see, so small in the  
Procurement of't, but it has made me yours.  
I might have perched in Gratian's Cock-loft still,  
But for Astrology.  Grat. 
As you have made me no less happy, with  
As sincere affection, I vow myself  
Your servant: yet let me tell you,  
I began to think there was not  
Much Astrology i'th' business neither,  
What ever we conceited of you.  End. 
Happiness, Gentlemen, is happiness still,  
I take it, which way so ere arriv d at.  
Something in every design we stalk with  
To take the Vulgar eye, when that which does  
The work indeed, being unperceived,  
It often is ascribed to a wrong Cause.  
I designed both these matches, Lewis and  
Bernard there can witness for me,  
And to your joys and mine I see 'em made,  
Be it with real or feigned skill in  
What I took upon me, that matter's not.  
The pleasures you reap from it are no fictions,  
That we all see.  
And I expect my thanks accordingly.  Sh. 
And you, Sir traveller, that were promised you should not be robbed by the way; prithee, how couldst, if thou hadst gone thy Journey, when I had secured thy money here before?  La-g. 
Well, well, vit one bottle or two de Vine, tis shall be satisfaction; and sirrahs, keark you, no tell my master, you know vat.  Raw. 
No, no; we would not hang thee.  Glar. 
Bellamy might think that were not my felicity, he has acknowledged you a furtherer of, did I not pay my thanks too; you have obliged us both, Sir.  Cel. 
If my Compliment be somewhat colder, Sir, then others you have had from this thankful Company, impute it to a certain blindness, allows me not yet a full view o'th' happiness you've placed me in; but as my sense of it increases, so shall my Gratitude.  Fan. 
I would fain thank you too, Sir; but truly I m beholding t'ee for nothing, but frighting me with the vision of Bellamy.  Sh. 
Now for our squeakers.  Ex. Raw. End. 
Why I passed for an ginger, or how, without being one, I knew enough of your adventures to make th' opinion good a while, Beatrix can partly tell.  Bell. 
The distaff was of Counsel.  End. 
The rest may better come from Lewis there, or Bernard; and be part of their Apology.  Bell. 
They in th' Intrigue too?  End. 
Grand Intriguers.  Sr Chr. 
All this we'll hear at leisure; 'twill make an excellent story, when we have it all together: but now let's in, the air grows cold, though love and youth keep you from feeling it— what fiddlers?  Music Sh. 
Yes in truth, Sir; I saw there would be a Wedding or two, and made bold to invite 'em in; there's no mirth without Music, Sir.  Sr Chr. 
Why God-a-mercy; come, strike up there,  
A kissing dance to please these Wenches.  Sh. 
A kissing dance! nay then, I will make one,  
I'm resolved on't. Come Beatrix.  Fan. 
You may dance, Sir; but we'll have no kissing,  
'Tis not come to that yet.  Sh. 
You are not quite come to 't indeed;  
But here are riper lips.  Cel. 
She tells you true, Sir; 'tis not come to that yet.  Fan. 
Play my delight.  Sh. 
Thy Mistress forbids no kissing.  Beat. 
No, I warrant her.  Raw. 
She goes to't with a better stomach.  Sh. 
And they won't kiss  
They shall dance by themselves for Shift.  Beat. 
And for Beatrix too.  Dance. Sr Chr. 
Brisk youths on my credit: come, to supper; nothing but welcome can I promise though o'th' sudden; but when my Girl is married  
I'll feast you all, and nobly, that are here;  
So your dislike blast not our Wedding cheer.    
FINIS.