THE GUARDIAN; A COMEDY. Acted before Prince CHARLES His HIGHNESS At Trinity-Colledg in Cambridge, upon the twelfth of March, 1641.  
Written by ABRAHAM COWLEY.  
LONDON, Printed for JOHN HOLDEN at the Anchor in the New-Exchange, 1650.   

The Actors Names.  

CAptain Blade the Guardian.  
Old Truman, a tasty old man.  
Young Truman his Son, in love with Lucia.  
Col Cutter a sharking Soldier Lodger at the Widow's house.  
Doggerel a sharking Poëtaster Lodger at the Widow's house.  
Puny a young Gallant, a pretender to wit.  
Lucia Niece and Ward to Captain Blade, in love with young Truman.  
Aurelia daughter to Blade.  
Widow, and old Puritan, Landlady to Colonel Cutter and Doggerel.  
Tabytha her Daughter.  
Jailers, Servants, and Fiddlers.   
The Scene London.   

The PROLOGUE.  
WHo says the Times do Learning disallow?  
'Tis false; 'twas never honoured so as now  
When you appear, great Prince, our night is done:  
You are our Morningstar, and shall by'rour Sun.  
But our Scene's London now, and by the rout  
We perish if the Roundheads be about:  
For now no ornament the head must wear,  
No Bays, no Mitre, not so much as Hair.  
How can a Play pass safely, when we know,  
Cheapside-Cross falls for making but a show?  
Our only hope is this, that it may be  
A Play may pass too, made ex tempore.  
Though other Arts poor and neglected grow,  
They'll admit Poetry▪ which was always so.  
Besides, the Muses of late times have been.  
Sanctified by the Verse of Master Prin.  
But we contemn the fury of these days,  
And scorn as much their Censure as their Praise.  
Our Muse, blessed Prince, does only on you rely;  
Would gladly live, yet not refuse to die.  
Accept our hasty zeal; a thing that's played  
Ere 'tis a Play, and acted ere 'tis made.  
Our Ignorance, but our Duty too, we show:  
I would all ignorant people would do so.  
At other times, expect our Wit and Art;  
This Comedy is acted by the Heart.   

The Guardian.  
Act. 1.  

Scaen. 1.  Widow, Tabytha, Colonel Cutter, Doggerel. Cutter. 
PRithee widow be not incensed, we'll show ourselves like young Lords shortly; and you know, I Hope, they use to pay their debts.  Wid. 
ay, you talk of great matters, I wis, but I'm sure I could never see a groat yet of your money.  Dog. 
Alas, we carry no silver about us,  
That were mechanical and base;  
Gold we about us bring:  
Gold, thou art mighty in each place,  
Of Metals Prince and King.  
Why I tell you my pockets have not been guilty of any small money in my remembrance.  Wid. 
I know not, but all things are grown dear of late; our Beef costs three shillings a stone, and the price of corn is raised too.  Taby. 
Nay, mother, coals are raised too, they say. These things you think cost nothing.  Dog. 
Nay, Tabytha, Mistress Tabytha! ifaithlaw now I'll make a Psalm for you, and be but peaceable.  

Contain thy tongue, and keep it in  
Within thy mouths large prison.  
Both jars, and also many a sin  
From out the mouth has risen.   
I'm only for Odes, by the Muses, and the quickest for them, I think, in the Christian world, take in Turks, Infidels, Jews and all.  Cutt. 
Have but a little patience, widow; well● I'll say this for thee, thou art the honestest Landlady upon the face of the earth, which makes me desire to live in your house; and you shall not lose by't: do but mark the end.  Wid. 
I stand not so much upon that; but I use to ha' Lawyers in my house, such civil complete gentlemen in their Satin doublets (I warrant you) and broad ruffs, as passes; and Courtiers, all to be laced and slashed, and fine fellows as you shall see in a summer's day; they would not say Why do ye this? to a woman: and then Knights.  Tab. 
ay, and Gentlemen too, mother.  Wid. 
But you, forsooth, come in drunk every night, and fall a swearing as if you would rend the house in two, and then mumble and tumble my daughter's clothes, she says.  Tab. 
ay, and would have—  Cutt. 
What would we have done?  Tab. 
Nay no good, I warrant you.  Wid. 
And then you drink up a kilderkin of small beer next morning.  Dog. 
All this shall be corrected and amended, Landlady: yes faith, Cutter, thou must repent, thou hast been to blame sometimes.  Wid. 
Besides, you are always so full of your fripperies, and are always a grinning and sneering at every thing: I was wont to have sober borders in my house, and not such hee-hee-heeing fellows.  Tab. 
Nay, they mocked and fleered at us as we sung the Psalm the last Sunday-night.  Cutt. 
That was that mongrel Rhymer; by this light, he envies his brother Poet honest john Sternhold, because he cannot reach his heights.  Wid. 
O the father! the Colonel's as full of waggery as an egge's full of meat: I warrant, M. Doggerel, what you get by him you may even put i' your eye, and ne'er see the worse for't.  Cutt. 
Well, and how dost i'faith now, honest Landlady? when shall we walk again into moorfield's, and rejoice at the Queen's Cake-house?  Dog. 
I'll bespeak Cakes and Ale o'th' purpose there; and thou shalt eat stewed Prunes, little Tabytha, till thy smock drop again. A word i' you ear, Landlady: Can you accommodate us with two shillings?  

To morrow ere the rosy fingered morn  
Starts from Tithonus bed, as Authors write;  
Ere Phoebus cry Gee-hoe unto his team,   
We will restore again, and thank you for your pain.  Cutt. 
I'll tell you a secret, Landlady: Captain Blade and I shall be called shortly to the Court; the King has taken notice of our deserts: I say no more: though yet thou scornest me, Tabytha, I'll make thee a Lady one day. Will you lend, widow? Great affairs bid me make haste.  Wid. 
I care not much if I trust you for once: Come in and take it.  Dog. 
Then Mistress let me lead you thus,  
And as we go let's buss.  Tab. 
Buss me no bussings. O lord, how you tumble my gorget! Exeunt.   

Act. 1. Scaen. 2.  Captain Blade, solus. 
I could now be as melancholy as an old scabby Mastiff, or the Lions in the Tower: 'twere a good humour to repent. Well, Captain, something must be done, unless a man could get true gems by drinking, or, like a mouse in a cheese, enlarge his houseroom by eating. Four hundred pound a year cashiered? Four hundred, by this light, Captain. All my comfort is, that now the usurer's damned; and now that niggardly three score and ten withered chap-faln Puritanical thing, his wife, refuses to marry me: I would see her burnt for an old witch before I'd take her for a wife, if she had not Agues, Squinancies, Gouts, Cramps, Palsies, Apoplexies, and two dozen of diseases more than S. Thomas Hospital; and if she live long with all these, I'm sure she'll kill me quickly. But let her be damned with her husband: Bring some drink, boy; I'm soxed, by this light, with drinking nothing yet.   

Act. 1. Scaen. 3.  Blade, Cutter, Doggerel. Blade. 
What are ye come? Bring us a Tun then, and that so big, that that of Heidelberg may seem but like a barrel of pickled Oysters to't. Welcome Snapsack, welcome little vermin of Parnassus: how is't, my Laureate Rhymer? Cost thou sing Fortune my foe still with thy brother Poet?  Dog. 
Ye Muses nine assist my verse,  
That dwell by Helicon along;  
Captain Blades praise I will rehearse,  
With lyre and with song.  Bla. 
Why this right Ballad, and they hobble like the fellow with the wooden leg that sings them. And how dost, man o' blood?  Cutt. 
As well as a man of worth can do in these days, where deserts are so little regarded: if Wars come once, who but Cutter? who else but Colonel Cutter? God save you, Colonel Cutter, cry the Lords; the Ladies they smile upon Colonel Cutter, and call Colonel Cutter a proper Gentleman: every man strives who shall invite Colonel Cutter to dinner: not a Cuckoldly creditor dares pluck me by the cloak, and say, Sir, you forgot your promise, I'm in a straight for moneys, my occasions force me, or the like.  Bla. 
Cheer up, my Hercules upon a sign, I have a plot for ye, which if it thrive, thou shalt no more lie sunning in a bowling-alley, nor go on special holidays to the three-peny Ordinary, and then cry It pleases my humour better than to dine at my Lord Majors.  Cutt. 
Would we had some drink here to stop your mouth.  Bla. 
No more be sick two or three days while thy boots are vamping: no more out-swear whores in a reckoning, and leave the house in an anger.  Cut. 
Ha' you done?  Bla. 
Nor sup at Taverns with Radishes: nor for a meals meat overthrow the King of Spain of the Hollanders when you please: not when you go to bed produce ten several Tavern snuffs to make one pipe of Tobacco.  Cut. 
'Slid would I had one here.  Bla. 
Nor change your name and lodging as often as a whore; for as yet, if you had lived like a Tartar in a cart, (as you must die, I fear, in one) your home could not have been more uncertain. Your last Gests were these: From a Waterman's house at the Banks side, (marry you stayed there but a small while, because the fellow was jealous of his wife) passing over like great King Xerxes in a Sculler, you arrived at a Chandler's house in Thames-street, and there took up your lodging. The day before you should have paid, you walked abroad, and were seen no more; for ever after the smell of the place offended you. Next, you appeared at an Alehouse i'th' Covent-Garden, like a Duck that dives at one end of the pond, but rises unexpectedly at the other. But that place (though there was Beer and Tobacco there) by no means pleased you; for there dwelled so many cheaters thereabouts, that you could not live by one another; they spoiled your trade quite. Then from a Shoemakers, (as you entitled him; marry some authors call him a Cobbler) to a Basket-makers; from thence to the Counter: from thence, after much benevolence, to a Barbers; changing more lodgings than Pythagoras his soul did. At length, upon confidence of those new breeches, and the scouring of that everlasting Buff, you ventured upon the widows, that famous house for borders, and are by this time hoisting up your sails, I'm sure; the next fair wind you're gone.  Cut. 
I wonder, Captain, among so many rascally houses, how I happened to miss yours. 'Tis true, I have not lain leaguer always at one place: Soldiers must remove their tents: Alexander the Great did it an hundred times.  Bla. 
Now to the words of comfort— drink first— then Lordings listen all.  Dog. 
We do, both great and small. O my conscience this cup of wine has done my genius good.  Bla. 
When first my brother departed—  Dog. 
'Twas poorly spoken, by this day.  Blanvel 
He committed his daughter and estate to my care; which if she either died, or married without my consent, he bequeathed all to me. Being five years gone, he died.  Dog. 
How frail is humane life! Well sung the divine Poet  

Like to the damask rose you see,  
Or like the blossom on the tree,  
Or like, etc.   Cutt. 
Sirrah, Trundle, either hear out peaceably, or I shall cut your ears off. Proceed, Captain.  Bla. 
I falling into ill company, yours, or some other such idle fellows, began to be misled, could drink and swear, nay, at last, whore sometimes too; which courses having now at last made me like job in every thing but patience; your Landlady (for to her husband my estate was mortgaged.) I have sought all means to marry.  Dog. 
That Niobe! that Hecuba!  Bla. 
Pish! I could have lain with either of the two, so 't had been before Hecuba was turned into a bitch, or t'other into a stone: for though I hate her worse than small beer.  Cutt. 
Or paled wine.  Dog. 
Or proverbs and Latin sentences in discourse.  Cutt 
Or a Sermon of two hours long.  Bla. 
Or Dogrels verses, or what you will else; yet she has money, blades; she would be a Guiana or Peru to me, and we should drink four or five years securely, like Dutchmen at a Wedding. But hang her, let her die and go to hell, 'tis only that can warm her: she scorns me now my money's gone.  Dog. 
Thus Pride doth still with Beauty dwell,  
And like the Baltic ocean swell.  Bla. 
Why the Baltic, Doggerel?  Dog. 
Why the Baltic? This 'tis not to have read the Poets.  Bla. 
Now if my niece should marry, praesto, the means are gone; and I must, like some Gentleman without fear or regard of the gallows, betake myself to the highway, or else cheat like one of you, and tremble at the sight of a pillory. Therefore— (prick up your ears, for your good angel speaks) upon conditions of share, I marry her to one of you.  Both. 
ay but how, Captain? how?  Blanvel 
Why either she shall have one of you, or no body; for if she marry without my consent, the money's mine own: and she'll be hang'd first i'th' Friars rope, ere she turn Nun.  Cutt. 
I'll be a Franciscan, if she do.  Bla. 
Not a Carthusian, I warrant thee, to abstain from flesh. Thou mightst well have taken holy Orders, if it were not for chastity and obedience: their other vow of never carrying money about thee, thou hast observed from thy youth up.  Dog. 
I'll have her, by Mercury; I have two or three Love-odes ready made; they can't choose but win her. Cutter, adore me, Cutter, thou shalt have wine thy fill, though thou couldst out-drink Xerxes his army.  Cutt. 
You get her? what with that Ember week-face of thine? that Razor of thy nose, those ears that prick up like a Puritanical button-makers of Amsterdam? thou look'st as if thou never hadst been fed since thou suckedst thy mother's milk: thy cheeks begin to fall into thy mother's mouth, that thou mightst eat 'em. Why thou very lath with a thing cut like a face atop, and a slit at the bottom! I am a man, and can do her service; here's metal, boy.  Dog. 
'Tis i' your face then.  Cutt. 
I can fight her quarrels, boy, and beget on her new Achillese.  Dog. 
Yes— thou art a very Achilles— in the swiftness of thy feet▪ but thou art a worse coward than any of the Trained Bands: I'll have a schoolboy with a cat-stick take away thy Mistress from thee. Besides, what parts hast thou? hast thou scholarship enough to make a Brewer's clerk? Canst thou read the Bible? I'm sure thou hast not. Canst thou write more than thine own name? and that in such vile characters, that most men take them for Arabian pot-hooks; and some think thou dost but set thy mark when thou writest thy name. I'm versed, Cutter in the whole Encyclopaedie, a word that is Greek to you. I am a Wit, and can make Greek verses ex tempore.  Bla. 
Nay not so; for if you come to your verses▪ Doggerel, In sure you ha' done with wit. He that best pleases her, take her a God's name, and allow the t'other a pension: What think you, gallants?  Cutt. 
Agreed; thou shalt have three pound and a cloak.  Dog. 
Away, you puff, you kickshaw, you quaking custard.  Cutt. 
Prithee be patient, thou shalt have lace to't too.  Bla. 
Pox take you both; drink and be friends.  Dog. 
Here's to you, Cutter. I'm something choleric, and given to jeering: but what, man? words are but wind.  Bla. 
I'll call her in. Why boy within three, call my niece quickly hither.  Dog. 
I'm undone; I ha' left my Ode at home: undone, by Mercury, unless my memory help me.  Cutt. 
Thus and thus will I accost her: I'm the man; Dogrels clothes will cast him.   

Act. 1. Scaen. 4.  Blade, Cutter, Doggerel, Lucia. Bla. 
When she has seen you both, one void the room, and so woo by turns.  Doggerel. 
I'll go out first, and meditate upon my Ode.  Bla. 
Welcome, dear niece; I sent for you to entertain these Gentlemen my friends: and hark you niece, make much of them; they are men of worth and credit at the Court, though they go so plain; that's their humour only: And hark you, niece, they both love you; you cannot choose amiss. I ha' some business— Your servant, gentlemans.  Luc. 
Not choose amiss? indeed I must do, Uncle, if I should choose again. You're welcome, Gentlemen.  Cutt. 
I thank you, fairest Lady: I am a Soldier, Lady, and cannot compliment; but I ha' travelled over all the world, Germany, Morocco, Swethland, Persia, France, Hungary, Caleput, Peru.  Dog. 
'Slid▪ how he shuffles all the Countries together like lots in a hat!  Cut 
Yet I never saw before so fair a Lady. I cannot compliment i' faith.  Luc. 
You've taken a long journey, Sir 'twere best  
To rest yourself a little: Will you sit?  
Will you, Sir, take a seat too?  Dog. 
'Slife I can't say my Ode now. I'll wait upon you presently. Exit.  Cutt. 
Fair Lady— (This 'tis to converse with none but whores: I know not what to say to her.)  
You are the only mistress of my thoughts.  
My service to you, Lady. Drinks to her.  Luc. 
To me, Sir, do you speak, or to the wine?  Cutt. 
To you, by Mars. Can you love me, Beauty? I'm sure your uncle prefers no man under the cope—  Luc. 
Soft, Sir, d'ye use to take in Towns so soon?  
My uncle gave an equal commendation  
To both of you.  Cutt. 
What? to that mole-catcher i'th' old Serge? he brought him in for humour, to make you sport. Ill tell you what he is.  Luc. 
Pray do, Sir.  Cutt. 
The very emblem of poverty and poor poetry: the feet are worse patched of his Rhymes, then of his Stockings: if one line forget itself, and run out beyond his elbow, while the next keeps at home (like him) and dares not show his head; he calls that an Ode. Your uncle and I maintain him only for sport. I'll tell you how I found him; marry walking in moorfield's cross armed: he could not pluck his hat over his eyes, there were so many holes in it: he had not so much linen about him as would make a cuff for a Bartlemew-fayr-baby. Marry the worst I like in him is, he will needs sometimes, in way of gratitude, present me with a paper of Verses. Here comes the vermin.   

Act. 1. Scaen. 5.  Cutter, Doggerel, Lucia. 
I'll leave him alone with you, that you may have the better sport: he'll not show half his tricks before me. I think I ha' spoiled his markets. Now will I stand behind the hangings, and hear how she abuses him. I know by her eye she loves me. Cutter, thou'rt blessed Exit.  Dog. 
Fairer, O fairer than the Lily,  
Then Primrose fair, or Daffa● illy;  
Lesle red than thy cheeks the Rose is,  
When the Spring it doth disclose his  
Leaves; thy eyes put down the starlight;  
When they shine, we see afar— light.  
O these eyes do wound my heart  
With pretty little Cupid's dart;  
Wounded I am with deadly smart;  
The pain reigns in every part.  
Thy beauty and thy great desert  
Draw me as horses draw a Cart.  
O that I had Rhetorics art— impart-sart-mart-start.  
To move thee; for I would not start  
Till I—  Luc. 
Take heed, Sir, you'll be out of breath anon.  
Y'ha ' done enough for any honest Poet.  Dog. 
Fairest nymph, I swear to thee,  
The later part was made ex tempore?  
Not a bit of prose goes down with me.  Luc. 
(I must know't.)  
May I be so bold as to inquire of you  
Your friend's name that was here; he seems to be  
A man of worth and quality.  Cut. 
That's I  Dog. 
Quality? yes?  Cut. 
That's I again. If whoring, drinking, cheating, poverty and cowardice be qualities, he's one of the best qualified men in the Christian world.  Cut. 
O the devil!  Luc. 
He's a great traveller.  Dog. 
In suburbs and by-lanes; he never heard a gun but in moorfield's or Finsbury at a mustering▪ and quaked then as if they had been the Spaniards: I'll undertake a Potgun shall dismay him  Cutt. 
A plague upon him—  Dog. 
Those breeches he wears, and his hat, I gave him: till then, he went like a Paper-mill all in rags, and like some old statue in a ruined Abbey. About a month ago, you might ha' seen him peep out at a grate, and cry, Kind merciful Gentlemen, for the Lords sake, poor prisoners undone by sur●●tish●p, and the like.  Cut. 
Contain thyself▪ great spirit; keep in a while.  Dog. 
We call him Colonel in an humour only. The furniture of his chamber (for now, at mine and some other gentlemen's charges, he has got one) is half a chair, and an earthen chamber-pot, the bottom of an inkhorn for a candlestick, and a dozen of little galley-pots with salve in 'em; for he has more diseases—  Cut. 
I can endure no longer. Enters. Doggerel, thou liest; there's my glove; meet me an hour hence.  Dog. 
And there's mine. I'll put a good face on't; he dares not fight, I'm sure.  Cut. 
Two hours hence  
Expect the Saracens head; I'll do't, by heavens.  
Though hills were set on hills, and seas met seas, to guard thee,  
I'd reach thy head, thy head, proud Doggerel.  Exit. Luc. 
Nay, you're both even: just such an excellent character  
He did bestow on you. Why thou vile wretch  
Go to the stews, the gaol, seek there a wife;  
Thou'lt find none there but such as will scorn thee.  
Was thy opinion of my birth or fortune,  
My chastity or beauty (which I willingly  
Confess to be but small) so poor and low,  
That thou couldst think thyself a match for me?  
I'll sooner marry with my grave; for thou  
Art worse dirt than that. See me no more.  Exit. Dog. 
Scorned by a mistress? with a friend to sight?  
Hence, lighter Oder; I'll biting Satyrs write. Exit.   

Act. 1. Scaen. 6.  Truman filius, Lucia. Tru. 
I must be gone, my Lucia; I must leave  
Myself, and thee more than myself, behind me  
Thus parts the greedy usurer from his bags,  
With an heart heavier than those: he fixes  
His covetous eye upon the charming metal,  
As if he meant to throng those many pleasures  
Which several times would yield, into one minute.  
With as much joy he kisses his loved Idol,  
As I do thee, to whom all gold compared,  
Seems but like Pebbles to the Diamond:  
And then he sighs, my Lucia.  Luc. 
And weeps too, if, like us, he bid farewel.  
Why should your father be so cruel?  Tru. 
He's old and angry, Lucia, very angry,  
And either has forgot his youthful days,  
Or else I'll swear he did not love my mother  
With half that noble heat that I do thee:  
For when he heard your uncle's resolutions,  
Doubting your portion if we two should marry,  
He forced me to an oath so strange, which though  
I then durst swear, I scarce dare now repeat;  
An oath ne'er more to see nor hear thee, Lucia,  
After the envious shortness of this hour,  
Without his leave.  Luc. 
You will forget me quite then.  Tru. 
Forget thee, Lucia? 'tis not death itself  
Has so much Lethe in't: I shall not choose  
In the long sleep o'th' grave, but dream of thee,  
If it be true that souls which leave hid treasures  
(Being buried far less peaceable than their gold)  
Walk up and down, and in their urns want rest,  
How will my ghost then wander, which has left  
Such precious wealth behind it? Sure it will  
Desire to see thee, and I fear will fright thee.  
I would say more, but I shall weep anon.  Exit. Luc. 
So quickly gone! he might have stayed, me thinks,  
A little longer, and I owed that happiness  
To the misfortune of his future absence.  
Why did he swear to's father? I'm a fool,  
And know not what to say.   

Act 1. Scaen. 7.  Truman filius, Lucia. Tru. 
Stay, Lucia, prithee stay; I had forgot  
The business which I came for.  Luc. 
I owe much  
To your forgetfulness, my Truman: if  
It be such always, though you forget me,  
I'll pardon you. What was your business, pray?  Tru. 
To kiss your hand, my dearest.  Luc. 
Was that all?  
I'm glad to see your grief so small and light,  
That it can find leisure to compliment:  
'Tis not like mine, believe me.  Tru. 
Was not that business, Lucia?  
In my opinion now, th'affairs of Kings,  
The honourable troubles of a Counsellor,  
Are frivolous and light, compared to this.  
May I not kiss your lips too, dearest Lucia?  
I have an inward dropsy; and my remedy  
Inflames my thirst: 'tis that best Nectar only  
Which has the power to quench it.  Luc. 
If there be Nectar there,  
It was your lip that brought it thither first;  
And you may well be bold to claim your own.  
Shall we sit down and talk a little while?  
They will allow us sure a parting-time.  Tru 
And that I would not change, not this poor minute  
In which I see, and hear, and touch thee, Lucia,  
For th'age of Angels, unless thy loved presence  
Make a heaven there for me too.  
What shall I do to bring the days t'an end?  
Sure they'll be tedious when I want thy company.  Luc. 
I'll pray for the success of our chaste loves,  
And drop down tears for beads.  Tru. 
I'll read o'er the large volume of the creatures;  
And where I find one full of grace and beauty,  
I'll gaze and think on that; for that's thy picture.  Luc. 
Whatever kind of Needlework I make,  
Thy name I'll intermingle, till at last,  
Without my mind's conjunction and consent,  
The needle and my hand shall both agree  
To draw thy name out.  Tru. 
I will gather flowers,  
Turn wanton in the truness' of my love,  
And make a posy too, where Lucia  
Shall be mysteriously writ in flowers:  
They shall be fair and sweet, such as may paint  
And speak thee to my senses.  
Within. Mistress Lucia, Lucia.  Luc. 
I am called: farewell.   

Act. 1. Scaen. 8.  Truman filius, Lucia, Aurelia. Aur. 
My father, cousin, would speak with you.  Luc. 
I'll wait upon him. Exit.  Aur. 
Will you be gone so soon, Sir?  Tru. 
I must offend your father else.  Aur. 
You would have stayed longer with her, I'm sure.  Tru. 
It may be so. Your servant, Lady.  Exit. Aur. 
Contemned by all? while my proud cousin walks  
With more eyes on her then the moon: but I,  
Like some small petty star without a name,  
Cast unregarded beams.  
It must not be; I snatch of all those glories  
Which beauty or feigned virtue crown her with,  
Till her short light confess her but a Comet.  
I love thee, Truman; but since 'tis my fate  
To love so ill, I'll try how I can hate.   
Finis Actus primi.   

Act. 2.  

Scaen. 1.  Cutter, Doggerel. Cut. 
Come on, Doggerel, now will I cut your throat.  Dog. 
You●ll be hanged first.  Cut. 
No, by this light.  Dog. 
You'll be hanged after then.  Cut. 
I'll slice thee into steaks.  Dog. 
I believe indeed thou art so hungry, thou couldst feed like a Cannibal.  Cut. 
No, thou'lt be a dish for the devil; he'll dress thee at his own fire. You called me Coward: hadst thou as many lives as are in Plutarch, I'd make an end of 'um. (I must daunt him, for fear he should fight with me.) I will not leave so much blood in thee as will wet my nail: and for thy flesh, I'll mangle it in such manner, that the Crows shall not know whether it were a man's body or no.  Dog. 
(He was once a Coward, and I never heard yet of his reformation)  
Hear, thou altitonant jove, and Muses three.  
(Muses? a plague upon 'em I meant Furies.)  
Hear, thou altitonant jove, and Furies three.  Cut. 
Nay then  
Leap from the leathern dungeon of my sheath,  
Thou Durindana brave.  
(Will nothing do?) Come on, miscreant. They draw.  Dog. 
Do, do, strike if thou dar'st.  Cut. 
Coward, I'll give thee the advantage of the first push.  Dog. 
I scorn to take any thing of thee I.  Cut. 
Thou hadst better eat up thy mother's soul, then touch me.  Dog. 
If thou wilt not strike first, take thy life.  Cut. 
I had rather die then give the first blow, since thou hast said it.  Dog. 
I see this quarrel, Cutter, will come to a quart of wine: shall's go?  Cut. 
How rash is anger! had not reason checked me,  
I should have killed my Poet for a woman,  
A very woman. Let's sheathe, Doggerel—   

Act. 2. Scaen. 2.  Cutter, Doggerel, Puny. 
Here's company; 'slid I'll fight then.  Pun. 
How now, Paynims? fight like two sea-fish in a map? slaying and killing like horseleeches? Why my little gallimaufry, what Arms and Arts?  Dog. 
Tam Marti, quam Mercurio, I. 'Slife, outbraved by a fellow that has no more valour in him then a woman's Tailor?  Cutt. 
By my father's Soul, I'll kill him an he were an Army.  Pun. 
Hold! stop! this Colonel's spirit's all flame.  Dog. 
'Tis the flame of a flap-dragon then, for 'twill hurt no body.  Cutt. 
Mr. Puny, you do me wrong.  Pun. 
What do ye mean bufles?  Cutt. 
'Slife, an you hinder me Puny—  Pun. 
Pox take you, kill one another and be hanged then, do, stab, why don't ye?  Cutt. 
At your command Mr. Puny? I'll be forced by no man; put up Doggerel, we'll fight for no man's pleasure but our own.  Dog. 
Agreed, I'll not make another sport by murdering any man though he were a Tinker.  Pun. 
Why now you speak like righteous Hom●ncles, ye ha' both great spirits, as big as Indian-whales, for wit and valour a couple of Phoenixes.  Cut. 
'Tis my fault Puny; I'm the resolutest man if I be but a little heated. Pox take't, I'm a fool for't.  Dog. 
Give me thy hand.  Cutt. 
I did not think thou hadst been so valiant, i'faith: I should have killed myself, if I had hurt thee in my fury.  Dog. 
So should I by this hand.  Pun. 
This is rare! up and down like a game at chess;  Dog. 
Why a game at chess more than any other?  Pun. 
A game at chess? why— pox thou'rt a kind of Poet I confess, but for wit you shall pardon me— there's as much in Tom Coriats' shoes. But prithee, why did you two Pythagorians fall out?  Dog. 
A trifle, only a Mistress.  Cutt. 
A pox take her, I wooed her in an humour only, I had rather marry a wench of gingerbread, they're both of a Complexion.  Dog. 
And then her mouth's as wide as a Crocodiles, her kisses devour a man.  Cutt. 
Her eyes are like the eyes of a needle, and her nose pointed like that; I wonder her face is no cleaner, for those two perpetually water it: As for her lower parts, blessed are they that live in ignorance.  Pun. 
What an Heliogabalus make you of this wench? would I could see this Barbara Pyramidum.  Dog. 
Hang her, she looks like a gentlewoman upon the top of a ballad.  Cutt. 
Shavers, who i the devil's name would you guests to be my Mistress?  Pun. 
Some wench at a red lattice.  Dog. 
Some beast that stinks worse than Thames-street.  Pun. 
And looks like a shoulder of mutton stuffed with parsley.  Cutt. 
I'faith guess who.  Pun. 
'Tis impossible among so many whores.  Cutt. 
I'faith Tabytha, none but gentle Mistress Tabytha.  Dog. 
We shall have him turn Brownist now, and read Comments upon the Revelations.  Cutt. 
Thou hast hit it Doggerel: I'll put myself into a rare garb; Buff, thou must off, truly Buff thou must.  Pun. 
'Slid, a good humour; I could find in my heart to change religion too.  Dog. 
Pox! no body will change with me, I'm sure. But canst thou put off swearing with Buff? canst thou abstain in the middle of long grace from crying a plague upon him, the meats cold? canst thou repeat scripture enough to make a Puritan? I'm sure for understanding thou'lt be like enough to any of 'um.  Cutt. 
Let me alone, I'll deal with no oath above gods fatlikins, or by my truly: exclaim upon the sickness of drinking healths, and call the Player's rogues, sing psalms, hear lectures; and if I chance to preach myself, woe be to the act, the object, the use, and application.  Pun. 
Thou art an everlasting stinker Colonel, 'tis a most potent humour, there's mustard in't, it bits i'the nose.  Cutt. 
doggerel, take heed of swearing before Tabytha.  Dog. 
If I look not as grave as a Judge upon the bench, let me be hanged for't.  Pun. 
Come away Physicians; 'slid I'll be of some Religion ere●t be long too.   

Act. 2. Scaen. 3.  Truman pater, Truman fillus. Tru. p. 
You hear me—  Tru. f. 
Sir—  Tru. p. 
Sir me no sirs: I say you shall marry Mistress Tabytha.  Tru. f. 
I hope sir—  Tru. p. 
ay, when I bid you do any thing, than you are a hoping; well, what do you hope sir?  Tru. f. 
That you'd be pleased—  Tru. p. 
No, I will not be pleased till I see your manners mended: marry gap, you'll be teaching your father.  Tru. f. 
I am—  Tru. p. 
Go to, you're a foolish boy, and know not what's good for yourself: you are? what are you, pray? we shall ha' you crow over your father.  Tru. f. 
I shall observe—  Tru. p. 
You will not sure? will you observe me? 'tis very well if my son come to observe me i'my old days, you will observe me? will ye?  Tru. f. 
I mean sir—  Tru. p. 
You shall mean what I please, if you be mine: I must be bound to your meaning?  Tru. f. 
It may be—  Tru. p. 
You'll teach me what may be, will you? do not I know what may be? 'tis fine, 'tis very fine: now i'your wisdom, now what may be?  Tru. f. 
That Captain Blade—  Tru. p. 
That what? what can he do? I'll see his nose cheese before you shall marry his niece. Captain Blade's a swaggering companion; let 'em swagger, and see what he gets by his swaggering; I would have swaggered with him for his ears when I was a young man. And though I ha' done swaggering— well— I shall meet with Captain Blade, I hold him a tester on't—  Tru. f. 
(Would he were gone.) I shall obey—  Tru. p. 
Obey me no obeying, but do what I command you. I'll to the Widow, and talk about her portion: stay ● I had almost forgot to tell you; oh— Mistress Tabitha's a virtuous maid, a very religious wench; I'll go speak concerning her portion.  Tru. f. 
It may be sir—  Tru. p. 
You●ll never leave this trick, you'll be at your may-bees; take heed boy, this humour will undo thee— she cannot have less than three thousand pounds: well— I'll go see— and d'ye hear? she goes plain, and is a good huswife; which of your spruce mincing squincing dames can make bonelace like her? o 'tis a notable, apt, quick, witty girl— I'll go to her mother about the portion. Exit.  Tru. f. 
About this time her letter promised me a meeting here: destiny itself will sooner break its word than she. Dear Mistress, there's none here besides your vassal. She's ready—   

Act. 2. Scaen. 4.  Truman filius, Lucia veiled. 
Ha! why this covering?  
This is mystery darker than the veil  
That clouds thy glorious face; unless t'increase  
My desire first, and then my joy to see thee,  
Thou cast this subtler night before thy beauty.  
And now like one scorched with some raging fever,  
Upon whose flames nor dew nor sleep hath fallen,  
I could begin to quarrel with the darkness,  
And blame the slothful rising of the morn;  
But with more gladness entertained, than they,  
Whose icy dwellings the cold Bare ore-looks,  
When after half the years continued night,  
And the most tedious night of all but death;  
A sudden light shot from their horizon,  
Brings the long wished-for day, which with such glory  
Leaps from the East, as doth thy mateless beauty.  
When thus the mist departs— Offers to pull away the veil.  
Why shrinkest thou back?  
I prit he let me see thee, Lucia.  
I'd rather some good power would strike me blind,  
Then lose the cause for which I love mine eyes:  
At least speak to me: well may I call it night,  
When silence too has joined itself to darkness.  
And did I not swear I would not—  
Thy witty goodness can save others too  
From sinning: I had quite forgot my oath  
Yet sure an oath forced from a lover's tongue  
Is not recorded in heaven's dreadful book,  
But scattered loosely by that breath that made it.  
However thy blessed Letter makes me patient:  
Thou giv'st all virtues: I can love thee thus.  
And though thy skin were such, that it might seem  
A black veil cast by nature o'er thy body,  
Yet I would love thee, Lucia: every night,  
Which is the harvest-time of all our hopes,  
Will make thee as thouart now; and dost thou think  
I shall not love thee most then?  
We trifle here: I'll follow thee, O heaven;  
Prosper the wise invention which it hath taught thee. Exeunt▪   

Act. 2. Scaen. 5.  Captain Blade, Servant. Bla. 
Is he carried to prison? that damned Urinal-monger, that stinking Clyster-pipe-rogue! that ignorant Satin cap! He has not so much physic as would cure the toothache. A slave that poisons Gentlemen, to keep his hand in ure Must a slave come up stairs mount the bank for money, and not be dishonoured down? He looked as patiently then, as any Fiddler need to do. Give me some small beer, and the godly book; I must not go to hell; there are too many Physicians there. I was never in a worse disposition to die, in my life: my guts begin to squeak already. Nothing vexes me now, but that I shall stand pictured in a Ballad, with Beware the physician, or some such sentence, coming out of my mouth. I shall be sung in Smithfield: not a blind Alehouse but the life and miserable death of captain Blade shall be pasted up in: there shall I be brought confessing my sins at the later end, and giving good counsel. (You will be jumbling still.) Ten to one but Doggerel makes an Epitaph; there's another mischief. Here, take the book again; I'll not trouble my brain now I'm a dying.  Seru. 
Here's the widow, Sir, and her daughter, come to see you; and they have brought M. Knockdown to comfort you.  Bla. 
How? everlasting Knockdown? 'Slid, will they trouble a man when he's a dying? Sirrah, blockhead, let in Knockdown, and I'll send thee to heaven before me. I ha' but an hour to live, my Physician says, and that's too little for him to preach in.  Seru. 
Shall I let the widow come in?  Blade. 
That's a she— Knockdown too. Well, let her come in; I must bear all torments patiently now. But, rogue, take heed of joseph Knockdown: thou shalt not live with ears, if joseph Knockdown enter. A plague upon all Physicians.   

Act. 2. Scaen. 6.  Capt. Blade, Widow, Tabytha. Wid. 
How do you? how is't, Sir?  Bla. 
Cut off i'the flower o' my age, widow.  Wid. 
Not so, Sir, you are old, neighbour, God he knows.  Bla. 
I' the very flower, i'faith. That damned quacksalver.  Tab. 
He looked like a rogue; a man might know him for a rogue, by his very eyes. Take comfort, Sir; ye know we must all die either sooner or later. Our life is compared to a flower; and a flower is subject to uncertainty, as M. Knockdown observes.  Bla. 
O the torture of such a tongue! Would I were dead already.  Wid. 
Alas, good man! his tongue, I warrant ye, is hot: look how he raves, daughter! I have heard, indeed, that many rave when they are poisoned. Think o' your sins, Sir.  Bla. 
I prithee molest me not; there's none of 'em worth thinking of. I'm hotter than a dozen of Fevers: give me a cup of Sack there: Shall I die thirsty?  Wid. 
By no means, M. Blade. Fellow, take heed what ye give him: he must ha' none; it breeds inflammations.  Bla. 
I'll never repent without a cup of Sack. Do, do, choose whether you'll ha'me saved or no.  Wid. 
For his souls sake then, I'll drink to him in a cup of Sack Drinks.  Blanvel 
To my good journey widow. Sirrah, fill me a brimmer. Here, Tabytha.  Drinks.  

Act. 2. Scaen. 7.  Blade, Widow, Tabytha, Aurelia, Cutter, Doggerel. Aur. 
Stand to 't now.  Dog. 
I'll warrant you I'll stand like a knight o'the post: I'll forswear with the devil. As for Cutter, he has done't forty times before a Judge already.  Aur. 
My dearest father, though we cannot call  
The sentence of fate back that's passed upon you,  
Yet heaven has mixed some mercy with its anger,  
And shown us the cursed plotters of your ruin.  Bla. 
How now, varlets? ye see I'm going to heaven, and ye must follow; but the Captain must be saved before the Colonel. Who art thou? a godly Weaver?  Cut. 
I am not he that I was of old: what hath passed, is gone and vanisheth; but what is now, remaineth.  Wid. 
No I'll besworn is he not; never was Christian creature so altered, as they say.  Tab. 
He said a prayer last night so zealously, that all the house heard him, did they not? Brother M. Cutter.  Cut. 
Sister, I did pour out myself last night. Captain, you're abused.  Bla. 
A small abuse; nothing but only poisoned.  Dog. 
Yes i'faith, we saw the Physician, Mistress Lucia and Truman consulting all together: the Physician plucked a box out, showed it them; they seemed to approve: an oath of secrecy we heard them take, but suspected nothing, by this hand. We honest men do seldom suspect others.  Bla. 
Is this true, Colonel?  Cut. 
Should I say it is not true, I should not tell the truth if I should say so.  Bla. 
You swear 'tis true?  Cut. 
Before an Elder I shall swear.  Bla. 
Aurelia, send for 'em immediately, as if I meant to see 'em contracted; and bid the servants be ready to carry 'em away. I'll see 'em clapped up close before I die.  Aur. 
I go, Sir. Exit.   

Act. 2. Scaen. 8.  Blade, Widow, Tabytha, Cutter, Doggerel, Lucia. Luc. 
Dearest Uncle,  
I come to beg one boon of you, the last  
Which you can grant me, or I need to wish.  Bla. 
Speak, gentle Niece.  Luc. 
That since the love 'twixt Truman and myself  
Hath been so fixed, and (as our fortunes) equal,  
You will be pleased to seal with your last breath  
The confirmation of our loves, our Contract:  
And when your soul shall meet in heaven my fathers,  
As soon as he has bid you welcome thither,  
He'll thank you for our marriage.  Bla. 
Oh by all means: where's gentle M. Truman? He's sorry for my death, good man, I warrant ye. Weep not for me, dear Niece, I know it grieves you. Where's loving Mr. Truman?  Luc. 
Without Sir, waiting on your will, as on the voice of his good fate.  Bla. 
Pray call him in. Exit Luc. Sirrah, fetch two or three more of my knaves in.  Dog. 
Oh the dissembling of these women; they're like a folded picture, that every diversity of light represents diversely.  Bla. 
Hang all women beside you and your daughter, widow: I could almost like Mahomet's religion, for turning all the sex out of Heaven.   

Act. 2. Scaen. 9  Blade, Cutter, Doggerel, Widow, Tabytha. Truman filius, Lucia veiled. Tru. 
'Tis as we wished, dear Lady; O this blessed hour!  Bla. 
Away with 'em immediately, let 'em be sent to prison strait.  Tru 
What means this rudeness? I understand not this incivility.  Cutt. 
Ungracious children, ye have poisoned a most virtuous Soldier here.  Tru. 
I poisoned? what d'ye mean?  Bla. 
Away with 'em I say, they shall find another place to answer for't.  Exeunt Servants, with Truman and Lucia. Wid. 
Hei ho! what pity ' 'tis.  Cutt. 
Captain, prithee away with these two impertinences; since you must die, let's have a parting cup for shame.  Bla. 
But thou art turned Apostate.  Cutt. 
I did but fain all this; I'm as very a Rogue as ever I was.  Bla. 
Thou speak'st righteously, we will not make a dry farewell on't. Widow. I have some business with these two; shall I desire privacy a little while?  Wid. 
Fare ye well. Mr. Cutter, you can speak comfortably to him: I'll see you again anon. Oh the wickedness of these worldlings! Come Tabytha.  Exeunt Widow and Tabytha. Bla. 
The Doctor says, I shall die without pain; therefore my sparks of Asia, let's be merry for a while. Boy, fetch some wine and an hourglass.  Cutt. 
An hourglass! what emblem shall we have? bring a scythe too; and this same lean, greedy, hungry Poet, shall act Time here. Enter boy with wine, and an hour glass.  Bla. 
Well said my little Pawn. So, thus I'll husband my time. According to my Emperick's computation I am to live an hour; half which I do allot to drink with you, a quarter to settle some business; and the rest to good meditations and repentance. How like ye this my gallants?  Cutt. 
Most Logically divided; never Scholar divided mess better.  The boy fills wine. Bla. 
How it sparkles! Never be drunk again? My Homer junior, have at thee; this will string up thy Muse: rejoice young frog of Hellicon. Drinks.  Dog. 
No, rather let me weep, drop briny tears, Till I like Niobe—  Cutt. 
There's a piece of her sticks in his throat still, drink it down Doggerel.  Bla. 
Do, for when I am once gone, ye must even like Mahumetans, count wine a thing forbidden.  Cutt. 
Let's drink, let's drink, whilst life we have:  
You'll find but cold drinking, cold drinking in the grave.  Dog. 
A catch i'faith.  
Boy go down,  
And fills the t'other quart;  
That we may drink the Captain's health,  
Before that we do part.  Cutt. 
Why dost thou frown, thou arrant Clown etc.  Bla. 
Ha hei boys! another catch i'faith.  
And all our men were very very merry.  
And all our men were drinking,  Cutt. 
One man o' mine,  Dog. 
Two men o' mine,  Bla. 
Three men o' mine,  Cutt. 
And a man o' mine,  Om. 
As we went by the way, were  
Drunk Drunk, Damnable Drunk;  
And all our men were very very merry etc.  Bla. 
Hei brave boys! now, Cutter, thou art a precious Puritan.  Cutt. 
And thou a puissant Captain. Some would ha' pined, and kept a quarter, and howled at their death, and ha' been more froward and troublesome than a Citizen's wife when she takes Physic. This is true valour.  Dog. 
Sure he has died before, he's so expert at it.   

Act 2. Scaen. 10.  To these, old Truman. Bla. 
What says old Priam to Achilles' great?  Tru. 
'Tis well, I'm glad to see you in you Priam's; but for all your Priam's, and your Killisses, what ha' you done with my Son?  Bla. 
Thrice was thy Hector drawn about the walls.  Cutt. 
Xanthus and Simois, with his purple gore.  Dog. 
Alas, and welladay! we are stained all o'er.  Om. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Tru. 
'Tis very well, excellent well, all's well that ends well; I say— I shall find Law I hope. My Son Dick in prison, and old Dick laughed at here by Raggamuffin's: 'Tis very excellent well; I thank you gentlemen I thank you heartily.  Bla. 
'Tis not so much worth i'faith Sir; what do you mean Sir? pray spare your courtesy, nay, I pray be covered Sir.  Tru. 
It may be so, 'tis very likely Sir, a there be Law in Westminster—  Cutt. 
— And what dost thou mean, old man?  Dog. 
— And what dost thou mean, old man?  Cutt. 
— If thou meanest to live long, plump, lusty, and strong;  Dog. 
— Then take of the cup and the Can.  Om. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Tru. 
Well, I'm made a laughing stock, it seems.  Bla. 
And good Sir—  Tru 
Yes, I am made the laughing stock; I shall take some other course, I hold you a groat. Rest ye merry Gentlemen, I pray be merry, very very merry.  Dog. 
Nay, you shall stay and drink first.  Tru. 
Shall I, jacksauce? Strikes off his hat.  
Pray Sir, be you covered too.  Bla. 
Come old jethro, here's a cup of wine will stir thy brains again, they're mouldy now.  Tru. 
ay, you'd poison me, would you? 'tis very well if a man may be suffered to poison whom he pleases. Breaks the glass.  Bla. 
No, your good Son has got the art of poisoning.  Tru. 
My Son? Thou liest. My Son?  Bla. 
If ye be raging Lyon-mad, d'ye see that door? Be gone to your Son, and take some juice of Opium: Thou wants sleep, jethro. Truman offers to go out, and turns back again.  Tru. 
There's Law, Captain.  Blanvel 
There is so; would you'd go fetch it.  Tru. 
Nay there's none it seems.  Bla. 
True, there shall be no Law, so you'll be gone  Tru. 
There shall be no Law, say you? I desire no more, 'tis very exceeding dainty. There shall be no Law; I desire no more, 'tis a kind of petty Treason: You'll remember, Sir, that there shall be no Law: That's enough, I pray remember Sir: and so farewell. There shall be no Law.  Exit. Bla. 
This wormeaten old fellow has spoiled our sport. And what says my hourglass now? Time was i'faith.  Cutt. 
How do you feel yourself?  Bla. 
As hot as Hell. Come we'll take our last farewell within; and farewell here all drinking. God send me a good journey, I say.  Dog. 
Then briny tears come trickling down apace,  
For loss of him—  Cutt. 
And what?  Dog. 
Nay, ye put me out. Exeunt.   
Finis Actus Secundi.   

Act. 3.  

Scaen. 1.  Doggerel, Aurelia. Dog. 
Not poisoned you say?  Au. 
No, hes as well as we.  Dog. 
It may be he has more lives than one, or used himself to poison, as we now, that are Scholars, and Poets read, of one Mithidrates.  Au. 
He was never sick.  Dog. 
Yes, very hot.  Au. 
ay, as a painted fire, his fancy made him so; I smell a plot in't. Lucia, you say, urged him then for Truman. 'Twas a mere plot, I doubt, to put him in fear of death.  Dog. 
I shall be taken for a kind of Rogue then, for bearing false witness  Au. 
You shall not be mistaken, Sir, at all.  Dog. 
Pilloryed, and whipped, with my godly brother Cutter.  Au. 
Abused by the Prentices as you walk in the streets, and have rotten apples slung at you.  Dog. 
Have a hundred blustering oaths o' mine no more believed, then when I swear to my Creditors, I'll pay all.  Au 
Be abandoned by all men above a Tapster; and not dare to look a gentleman i'the face; unless perhaps you sneak into a Playhouse, at the fifth Act.  Dog. 
If ever I have to do with women again, but i'the way of all flesh, may I die an Eunuch. I'll never lie or swear hereafter, but for myself. Were not you the virtuous gentlewoman, with the brown paper-face, that persuaded me to it?  Au. 
The very same, Sir; and I ha' just such another exploit here to employ thee in: therefore be secret, close as a cokle, my good Rymer.  Dog. 
To employ me in!  Au. 
Nay, you must do't i'faith; I ha' sworn first, Doggerel.  Dog. 
By this good light, I will do nothing at thy entreaty: not if thou shouldst entreat me to lie with thee. Must Poet Doggerel?  Au. 
ay, must, if he intent e'er to drink Sack again; or to make more use of his little-pocket, then to carry Tavern-bills in't; must do't, unless he intent to die without a shirt, and be buried without a winding-sheet.  Dog 
I like thy wit yet wench, what is't?  Au 
I would marry Puny; he's rich you know, and a bravery, and a wit.  Dog. 
He says himself he is so; but few are of his faith.  Au. 
He dances too, and courteth the Ladies.  Dog. 
Yes in more postures than a dozen of Bowlers.  Au. 
But he's rich, Doggerel, and will be wise enough; when I have got'um knighted, than I shall be a Lady, Doggerel; have a dozen of French-Taylors, Doctors, Jewellers, Perfumers, Tirewomen, to sit in consultation every morning, how I shall be dressed up to play at Gleek, or dance, or see a Comedy, or go to the Exchange i'the afternoon; send every day my Gentleman, to know how such a Lady slept, and dreamed; or whether her dog be yet in perfect health: Then have the young smelling braveries; all adore me, and cut their arms, if I be pleased to be angry: Then keep my close and open Coaches, my yellow satin Pages, Monkeys, and women, or (as they call 'em) creatures.  Dog. 
Be then a politic, Lady; keep none but ugly ones, you'll ne'er be handsome else. But suppose all this, what's this to Doggerel?  Au. 
Doggerel shall be maintained by me, he shall ha' fine new Serge; and every day more wine than's drunk at a Coronation.  Dog. 
This qualifies. And when the good Knights dicing, or at bowls, or gathering notes in private out o' Romances; might not Doggerel have a bit?  Au. 
Yes, like enough your Poetry might tempt some of my under-women to't. But are you prepared to cheat, in your own behalf, and mine?  Dog. 
ay, but how must this be done?  Au. 
Why thus briefly. First read this Letter.  Dog. (reads) 
Dearest Truman,  
We have long desired to be contracted together, that nothing might be wanting to our Loves, but Ceremony: To night about nine a clock, I shall find opportunity to meet you at the garden door, and let you in; silence and the help of veils, will save the violating of your oath. Farewell.  
Yours, Luc. Blade.  
I'faith, was this her writing?  Au. 
No▪ but the hand's ●s like hers as the left is to the right. This you shall show to Puny; and tell him that you found or stole it from Truman: I need not I suppose instruct you, to polish over a lie; he knows their love, and cannot suspect any thing; persuade him to make use of the occasion, and come himself.  Dog. 
And you●ll meet him veiled.  Au. 
Hast thou found it out? thou hast shrewd reaches Doggerel.  Dog. 
I'll do't. Thou shalt be blessed. I'll do't i'faith.  Au. 
About it then; I'll leave you: and fail not, Doggerel; remember wine and serge. But first, I have another way t' undo thee, Lucia: And that I'll try too. Exit.  Dog. 
Go thy ways girl for one, and that's for Puny I hope; I see thou'lt ne'er turn Sempstress, nor teach girls; thou'dst be a rare wife for me, I should beget on thee Donnes, and johnsons': but thou art too witty. We men that are witty know how to rule ourselves, can cheat with a safe conscience; 'tis charity to help thee, Aurelia, and I will do't, and merit.  Exit.  

Act. 3. Scaen. 2.  Truman filius, Solus. Tru. 
Our minds are like the Sea, and every Passion  
Like some fierce Tempest stricken from the North,  
Disturbs the Peaceful calmness of our thoughts:  
Custom of anger drives us from ourselves,  
The Adrian Gulf a milder fury hurries;  
Those Waves touch Heaven, but these arise to Hell.  
Sometimes the winged whirlwind of blind Avarice  
Shoots itself forth, and sweeps up all before it.  
Now we with greedy hope, knock at the Spheres,  
Anon the deadly hand of cold despair  
Throws us beneath the grave: and midst these dangers  
The flame of Love appears in stead of lightning;  
And with sad glory frights the night itself.  
Oh! 'tis a subtle fire! and kills, but wounds not.  
Good God What more than man can safely pass  
The Billows, Rocks, and Monsters of this Ocean,  
Unless some power Divine, become his Pilot?  
For then the winds would scatter, the waves shrink,  
And th'outworn storm suffer itself a shipwreck.   

Act 3. Scaen. 3.  Aurelia, Taylor, Truman filius. Au. 
Thanks good Tailor; now I'll only beg that I may buy your secrecy: Fare thee well, Friend. at the door.  Tru. 
Ha! I did but speak just now of Heavenly powers,  
And my good Angel enters! welcome  
Lucia; I can scarce say so here, yet welcome heartily:  
You see how ill our honest Plot succeeds;  
I see we must out-weary fortunes anger,  
And I have armed myself for't— ha!  She gives him a note, and embraces him. He reads. 
I have with much ado gotten to you, and can stay with you to night. (Ha!) Why should we defer our joys longer, since we are married in heart? The opportunity, and impatience of such delays, forced me to desire that which else my modesty would not suffer me— (Modesty?)— Your desires— to your bed— long wished-for— (why this is strange) hum-hum-hum— Yours, Lucia. No, no, thou art not Lucia. If thou dost (As thou sayest) love me, do not use that name. She embraces, and goes to kiss him Some devil has changed thee— This is worse still— with much ado— to night— joys longer— opportunity— Ready: then walks about the room; goes to the Candle, and burns the Letter  
May all remembrance of thee perish with thee,  
Unhappy paper, made of guilty linen.  
The menstruous relics of some lustful woman:  
Thy very ashes here will not be innocent,  
But fly about, and hurt some chaste men's eyes,  
As they do mine. Weeps.  
Oh thou that once wert Lucia! thy soul  
Was softer then, and purer than swans feathers,  
Then thine own skin: Two whitest things, that paper,  
And thine own self, thou didst at once defile.  
But now thouart blacker than the skin that covers thee:  
And that same gloomy shade not so much hides  
Thy Body's colour, as it shows thy Minds.  She knelt. 
Kneel not to me, fond woman, but to heaven;  
And prithee weep: tears will wash cleaner Ethiopes—  
Wouldst thou have had me been mine own adulterer?  
Before my Marriage too? Wouldst thou ha' given me  
An earnest of the horns I was to wear?  
Is Marriage only a Parenthesis  
Betwixt a maid and wife? Will they remain  
Entire without it? Go, pray go back,  
And leave me too, since thou hast left thyself:  
When peace is made with heaven, 'tis made with me. Exit Aurelia.  
What are these women made of? Sure we men  
Are of some better mould. Their vows and oaths  
Are like the poisonous Spiders subtle net,  
As dangerous to entrap, and broke as soon.  
Their love, their faith, their selves enslaved to passion.  
Nothing's at their command, except their tears,  
And we frail men, whom such heat-drops entice.  
Hereafter I will set myself at liberty,  
And live more free than is the air I breathe in:  
And when I sigh, henceforth, it shall not be  
For love of one, but pity of all the Sex.  Exit.  

Act. 3. Scaen. 4.  Doggerel, Puny. Pun. 
But how shall I represent this Anthropophagus?  Dog. 
Only speak softly, lest she chance to know your voice.  Pun. 
I warrant you I'll whisper like wet wood in a Justice's chimney at Christmas.  Dog. 
But of all things, take heed of too much wit; that's always dangerous, but especially now. Truman, you know, is an honest harmless fellow, and is contented to speak sense.  Pun. 
ay, hang him; there's clotted cream in his head in stead of brains; and no more o' that then will completely serve to fill the eye of a needle. But I shall ne'er abstain from these fine things, hyperboles and similitudes: my nature stands a tiptoe: Truman has got the cramp; his genius is like some gouty Alderman's that sits in a chair. An I were in Phalaris' Bull, I think I should be witty.  Dog. 
Nay, I know't; a man may as well keep a apprentice from moorfield's on a holiday, as you from your Muses, and Canundrums; they're meat and drink to you.  Pun. 
No, my good bagpipe, they're meat and drink to you, that feed by 'um.  Dog. 
I see you're ashamed of the Muses, and I hope they're even with you. But so much for this: you●ll find wine, I hope, when I have found you the wench.  Pun. 
Though thou wouldst drink cups bigger than Pauls-steeple, or the great bell at Westminster, thou shouldst have 'um. How long dost thou think has this night worn her mourning-gown, and looked like a funeral?  Dog. 
Indeed, she has many torches. Why sure, 'tis just about the Critical time which she appointed. You know your business: First break a piece of Gold; profess before Heaven and Angels, you take her for your wife; then give her half of it: and after that, somewhat as you understand me.  Pun. 
Will she be malleable, d'ye think? Shall I stamp Puny on her?  Dog. 
There's a Metaphor indeed! It seems 'tis the fashion; you take your wife for Gold. Hark! the door opens, use your fortune well. Exit.  Pun. 
Now, if my Alcocadin be right, I'm sure, I am made.  She opens the door, and lets him in.  

Act. 3. Scaen. 5.  Captain Blade, Servant. Bla. 
Pox upon 'em, they put me into a horrible fear; but I am glad I am so happily cheated, for all that. Well, I must devise some horrible lie, to justify my fears; some trick must be thought upon to gull Truman. How now? What news from Tripoli.  Seru. 
Sad news, my Lord; here's an Army at the door, to speak with you.  Bla. 
Who are they? Creditors? a Merchant, a Mercer, a Scrivener, a Tailor, a Butcher, Six Cooks, a dozen of Vintners, and the rest? Ha? Tell 'em I am sick, taking Physic, or else abroad; hang 'em Rogues, come like quotidian Agues on a man.  Seru. 
No, Sir, 'tis old Mr. Truman, the Widow, and her daughter, and Mr. Doggerel, and I know not who; there's a stock of 'um.  Bla. 
They are those I wished for, let 'em in. Exit Seru. Now, Signior Blade, If ever thou wouldst see the golden age of yore, this is the time.   

Act. 3. Scaen. 6.  Blade, Truman Pater, Widow, Doggerel. Tru. 
O Sir, my Son has poisoned you, I see; there's no Law yet, is there?  Bla. 
Mr. Statesman—  Tru. 
True me no more than I true you. Come, Captain Blade, I know what you are, and so shall others too.  Bla. 
You'll hear me, Sir, I hope—  Tru. 
And so shall you hear me, Sir; I can be heard, I would you should know, in as good a place as this is; and before as good as you are, Captain Blade.  Bla. 
First leave your raging, Sir: for though you should roar like Tamerlin at the Bull, 'twould do no good with me.  Tru. 
I Tamerlin? I scorn him, as much as you do, for your ears. I'll have an action of slander against you, Captain; you shall not miscall me at your pleasure: remember you called me jethro once before.  Wid. 
O the Father! little did I think, I wuss, to see you ever with these eyes again.  Bla. 
Pray, Sir, hear me; The wrong I did you, when you were last here, came from distraction only, and not my will; and therefore deserves pardon. The business, if you please, I'll relate truly to you; and by what special providence I escaped the danger. they whisper.  Tru. 
Well, Sir, I'm not angry; but I'll not be called Tamerlin by any man.  Bla. 
Upon my faith, Sir, it was an Antidote; I vomited up more than any whale could have done; things of more colours than twenty Rhetoricians were ever able to invent.  Tru. 
I shall teach my son—  Bla. 
No good Sir, I forgive him with all my heart: but for my Niece— You remember, Sir, the Will my brother left; you were witness to it. For this her disobedience, the means are fallen to me. Now if you please to marry M. Richard to my daughter, Lucia's portion shall all be hers.  Tru. 
Thank you good Captain Blade; I thank you for your love heartily: pray send for 'em; he shall do't presently. I thank you heartily for your love, good Captain: he shall do't, he shall do't. Calls his servant, and sends for 'um. (What good luck was this, that I spoke not to the widow for her daughter!) How do you, widow? you're melancholy methinks; you're melancholy i'faith, that you are.  Wid. 
Well, I praise God, Sir, in better health than I deserve, vile wretch. I'm glad to see our neighbour so recovered.  Tru. 
ay, good man, he has had a dangerous time of it, that he has, a very dangerous time: his niece is a naughty wench, a scurvy girl, to repay him thus for all his care and trouble: he has been a father to her, Widow, that he has; to my knowledge he has: Her father was an honest man, I'm sure on't.  Wid. 
Was he? ay, as ever trod upon God's ground, peace be with him; I, and as loving a neighbour too—  Tru. 
We have drunk our half pints of Muscadel together many a morning, that we have.  Wid. 
My husband too was all in all with him. Hei-ho! I shall never forget how merry we were when we went with him to Mortlake in the Easter-holy-days: and we carried a shoulder of Mutton with us, and a fat Pig, and he carried his bottle of wine down with him: I warrant you he he loved a cup of wine as well as his brother; in a fair sort, I mean.  Tru. 
Ah widow! those days are gone: we shall never see those days again. I was a merry grig too then, and would ha'danced and cut capers: ha— who but I? I was as merry as the maids.  Wid. 
My daughter Tabytha was just four year old then, come Lamas-tide.  Dog. 
Captain, I thought thou hadst been at Erebus by this time: but 'tis no matter; 'tis but an Epitaph lost: hang't, 'twas made ex tempore and so let it pass.  Bla. 
Hadst thou made one i'faith?  Dog. 
Yes, by thy, light.  Bla. 
I'm glad I did not die then. O here they come. She's a good handsome wench; 'tis pity to cozen her. But who can help it? Every one for himself, and God for us all.   

Act. 3. Scaen. 7.  Blade, Widow, Truman pater, Doggerel, Truman filius, Lucia. Bla. 
Welcome, kind Niece; you see I live still: there were Antidotes as well as Poisons.  Wid. 
He has been a loving Uncle to you, Mistress Lucia: he might have deserved better at your hands: you might had Master Truman, I warrant you, had you but held up your finger to him: he would not ha' seen you perish, Mistress Lucia; I may say I know him so far. Speak, Mistress Lucia, speak for yourself, good chuck; your Uncle will forgive you: we'll all speak for you: He shall forgive you, that he shall: he knows we have all our faults.  Dog. 
I understand the language of her silence; it's strong and good. You bound your son, Sir, to an oath never to see nor hear her without your commission: 'tis that troubles her conscience; she has a tender one.  True p. 
I bound bound? Well, I absolve 'em then; what's that to you, Sir? I'll bind 'em again, if 't be my pleasure so: if not, a fig for you; that's all I care. I love to speak my mind; you must pardon me, I ha' spoke to as good as you in my days.  Dog. 
D'ye speak thus always? I'll ha' you in a Play if you do.  Tru. p. 
I'm glad you are so religious, Sir; did I bind you too to silence? Go too, Sir; I told you what your may bees would bring you to, you'll always be wiser than your father: Nay, you may speak, and your Minion too, if she pleases.  Lucia, pulls off her vail. Luc. 
Does any man here accuse me of any thing?  Bla. 
We, and your conscience do.  Luc. 
My Conscience? 'tis as pure as Sythian Crystal,  
From any spot; I can see through't at pleasure.  
Whatever crime you mean, (for yet I know not)  
Would it were written in my face.  Bla. 
thou'dst be blacker than a Moor if 'twere. Did not you consent with that damned Physician to give me poison?  Luc. 
There was none given you, I call God to witness:  
If such a thought had slipped into my dream,  
The horror would have waked me, and I feared  
Ever to sleep again. No; what we did, Sir,  
Was but to fright you with a painted danger;  
That the just terror of your own destruction  
Might call to your remembrance my dead father:  
For sure, Sir, you forgot him when you thought  
To match his only child with one of these  
Fellows that live extempore; whose fortunes  
Are patched up like their wit by several patrons.  
Should I have married thus, (but I would sooner  
Endure the shameful end which they deserve)  
Your conscious Ghost would start to meet my fathers,  
And look more pale than death itself hath made it.  Dog. 
Let her alone, she'll call names and fling stones about anon.  Widgine 
Alas poor soul! you may see she's not her own woman.  Tru. p. 
What a poor excuse she made! a very idle simple excuse; have you never a better for us?  True f. 
No, she says true.  True p. 
You won't bite off my nose? will ye, Sir? pray do not bite off my nose, I pray, Sir, do not?   

Act. 3. Scaen. 8.  Blade, Widow, Truman pater, Doggerel. Truman filius, Lucia, Puny. Pun. 
What a bevy o' men's here! ha! My little Loadstone, art thou here, my little Diamond? I'll speak to your Uncle now; we'll have a Parson cry I Nicholas presently.  Luc. 
You're rude, Sir: what do you mean?  Pun. 
ay, so you said i'the garden, when I began to gather, you know what fruit: Come put on your vail, you'll blush else; and look like the picture of a red-rose i'the hangings. Captain, Salue, 'tis done.  Bla. 
Done! What?  Pun. 
I have her, i'faith.  Bla. 
God give you joy, Sir.  Pun. 
Nay, she's my own.  Blanvel 
I am very glad of 't.  Pun. 
I scaled the walls, entered the Town, and left a garrison there, I hope.  Bla. 
I congratulate your Victory, Mr. Puny.  Pur. 
You shall go to my wedding, with me and this fair Chorus. I'm as nimble as a Lybian Rabbit: Come, you must go, though you be as lame as a cripple, that bids at Westminster, or a Crow in a gutter without her right leg. What d'ye wonder at? I tell you, she's my Penelope now.  Bla. 
May I be so bold, Sir, as to ask, who 'tis you mean?  Pun. 
'Slid, canst thou not see my meaning? are your brains in a litter? I'm contracted to your Niece, and have got upon her— Nay, never blush, we're as good as married, my dear Agate.  Bla. 
Have you then lain with her?  Truman fill. 
Ha! No figures nor similitudes, good Mr. Puny; be as open and naked with me, as you were with her.  Pun. 
As plain as a Scholars mourning-cloak. I ha' done't i'faith, but d'ye see? We broke this gold between us first, and will be married to day. Who's that? Truman, ha, ha; he looks like the Globe of the World, now: look how he scratcheth his paul.  Bla. 
God give you joy, Sir: but she has not a farthing portion.  Pun. 
How, Captain?  Bla. 
Not so much as will buy ribbons: all s mine own: a lawful prize, i'faith.  Tru. fill. 
Oh monster of her sex!  Luc. 
Wilt thou, vile man— I cannot speak to him— Witness all these— Weeps.  Bla. 
So 'tis all forfeited to me. Will you try how your son's affection stands towards Aurelia?  Tru. p▪ 
Come, Dick, the Captain has forgiven you: never think of Lucia; she's not worth your thinking on; a scurvy girl: ne'er think o' her; thou shalt marry fair Aurelia: there's a wench, a wench worth gold i'faith.  Tru. f. 
I can't marry.  Tru. p. 
What can't you do, Sir?  Tru. f. 
I can't marry.  True p. 
Do you know who 'tis you speak to, Sir? you do'ned sure: Who am I, pray? you can't, when I bid you. Surely you know not who 'tis you speak to: you shall do't, or I'll know why you shall not.  Tru. f. 
I won't marry.  Tru. p. 
Get you out o' my sight: come within my doors no more; not within my doors, Sir.  Bla. 
Take heed, M Truman, what you do.  Tru. f. 
I won't marry.  Luc. 
Pray hear me all—  Bla. 
Come, M. Truman, let's talk of these things within: come, gentlemans.  Wid. 
Hei-ho! I'll ne'er trust a wart o' the right cheek and a twinkling eye again whilst I breathe, for Mistress Lucia's sake. A man would, think, that sees her▪ that butter would not ha' melted in her mouth. Take heed, Tabytha; the still Sow eats up all the draff, I see.  Tru. p. 
I'll never acknowledge him for my son again: I tell you, Captain, he's always thus; he's always with his may-be's and his wo'nots: I can't abide these wo'nots, not abide 'um.  Pun. 
I ll follow him about the portion; he shall not think to make an Asdrubal of me.  Dog. 
Now my plot works.  Exeunt omnes praeter Tru. fill. & Lucia.  

Act. 3. Scaen. 9  Truman fill. Lucia weeping. Tru. 
How precious were those tears, if they were true ones!  
How much more worth than all the Ocean's Jewels!  
But they are only false and empty bubbles;  
Fair to the sight, but hollow as her heart:  
There's nothing, nothing in 'em: he that weighs 'em,  
Shall find 'em lighter than a mad man's dreams,  
Or women's resolutions.  Luc. 
I never did that fellow any wrong.  
Why should he pay so dearly for the loss  
Of my poor honour, as to sell his soul for't?  Tru. 
O she confesses, now, sh'has lost her honour.  Luc. 
They triumph in the ruin of us women,  
And woo our beauties only, or our dowries;  
Which when they miss of, they resolve to take  
Revenge of their unworthiness on us;  
Stealing away all that makes rich our dowry,  
And beauty fair, our Name. But 'tis no matter,  
Since heaven and Truman know my chastity.  
Ha! he's here still! How do you, Sir?  Tru. 
Well, well.  Luc. 
You look ill.  Tru. 
No, no, no.  Luc. 
Indeed you do: your are not well, In sure.  Tru. 
I am. Will you be gone?  Luc. 
How, Sir! You do not know me, sure.  Tru. 
I would I never had.  Luc. 
What do you mean?  Tru. 
To see thy face no more.  Luc. 
You said you could not live without the sight on't.  Tru. 
It was a good one then.  Luc. 
Has one day spoiled it?  Tru. 
O yes, more than an hundred years of time,  
Made as much more by a continual sorrow,  
Could e'er ha' done.  Luc. 
I do not think my glass will say so.  Tru. 
That's  
A false as you, perhaps; but 'tis not half  
So brittle. Dares your husband trust me alone  
With you so long?  Luc▪ 
My husband?  Tru 
I cry you mercy;  
The man you sin withal. You scorn to use Pretences.  Luc. 
Yes, I do, Sir:  
For she that scorns th' offence, needs no excuse  
Have you so little confidence in that  
Which you have seemed to praise so oft, my Virtues?  
Or did you flatter only? Sure you did not:  
For I remember I have heard you swear  
You spoke your thoughts. Are Oaths but compliments?  
'Tis done unkindly, very unkindly, Truman;  
And were 't not yourself, I should be angry.  
Had a bright Angel come to me, and said  
That you were false, I should have sworn it had lied,  
And thought that rather false than you. Nothing  
Could ever move th' opinion of thy constancy  
But thine own self; and thee I must believe.  Tru 
And I'll believe myself in what I saw.  
I know thou canst speak prettily; but thy words  
Are not what Nature meant 'em, thy mind's picture.  
The Bee has left his honey in thy tongue,  
But in thy heart his sting.  Luc. 
O do not say so:  
My heart is honest still, unless thou spoildst it  
When it received thee in. 'T had but three corners.  
And thou hadst two, at least. Would thou couldst see  
How little room I've left myself there in it.  Tru. 
Yes; for 'tis crowded up with many guests;  
So many guests, that they excluded me:  
And now I frieze without; but never more,  
Never will enter: 'twas a Palace once,  
But now 'tis turned a Dungeon.  Luc 
Will you leave me?  
I will not call you fickle nor unconstant;  
But sure you are too blame: you will not find  
A woman that will love you half so well.  Tru. 
I do not mean to try.  Luc. 
Yes, prithee do.  
But when you've talked, and loved and vowed, and sworn  
A little while, take heed of using her  
As you do me. No, may your love to her  
Be such as mine to you; it can't be better,  
What e'er you think; I'm sure it cannot, Truman.  
May she be worthier of your bed then I,  
And bring forth many little selves to you:  
And when the happy course of divers years  
Makes you seem old to all besides your wife,  
May you in the fair glass of your blessed issue,  
See your own youth again. But I would have 'em  
True in their loves, and kill no innocent maids.  
For me it is no matter: when I'm dead,  
My busy soul shall slutter still about you;  
'Twill not be else in heaven: it shall watch  
Over your sleeps, and drive away all dreams  
That fly not with a soft and downy wing.  
If any dangers threaten, it shall because,  
And call your spirit away till they be passed;  
And be more diligent than your Guardian-Angel.  
Only sometimes, when your best leisure serves,  
(For I'd not trouble you more dead than living)  
Bestow one thought on Lucia, and then sigh,  
And (if you will) drop down a tear or two.  
But that's a task Ill not enjoin you to:  
And if you do't, spend not too many on me;  
One will suffice: then only say, That maid  
Deserved more of me. And again t'your business.  
For my wronged virtue and forsaken truth,  
I ask no more. So, dear False-man, farewell.  Exit. Tru. 
Farewell? That word has charms and poisons in't;  
It makes my frighted soul start back and tremble.  
'Tis but an airy word. D'ye hear me, Lucia?  Luc. 
(within) Who calls?  Tru. 
Farewell, Lucia, farewell; that's all: farewel  
Repent, and meet me in heaven—  
Why did rash Nature quarrel with herself,  
In making one so excellently bad?  
She is more fair than May ●s new painted blossoms,  
But falser than the smiles of faithless April:  
And this I know, and yet me thinks I love her.  
O she has killed my Reason: I have lost  
That and myself for ever. Exit.   
Finis Actus tertii.   

Act. 4.  

Scaen. 1.  Lucia sola. 
Every thing now has left me; tears themselves,  
The riches of my very grief, forsake me:  
Sorrow, me thinks, shows nakedly without '●m.  
My sighs are spent too; and my wearied lungs  
Deny me fresh supplies: and I appear  
Like some dull melancholy ●pril-even,  
When after many a shower the heavens still lower,  
As if they threatened more; and the s●ed Sun  
Leaves nothing but a doubtful blush behind him.  
And I could wish my eternal night were coming,  
Did I but know who 'tis that makes me wish it:  
Else, when my soul is ready for her slight,  
And knows not who it is she must forgive,  
A thousand light suspicions will call  
Her charity several ways; and I may chance  
To doubt thee, Truman. But thou art abused:  
I know not why; but sure thou couldst not do it.  
I fear thee, cozen When we were both girls,  
Thou wouldst accuse me falsely to my Mistress,  
And laugh to see my tears. I fear thee, cousin;  
But I'll not judge too rashly: for I would not  
Have any innocent wronged as I have been.  
But I'm resolved to try her. She's now seeking  
(Hoping that all my fortunes now are hers)  
For a new maid t'attend her. That maid I'll be.  
clothes I have got already; and my face  
Grief has disguised: that and my voice some art  
Will quickly alter. I have left a Note  
Upon my chamber-window, which will keep 'em  
From all suspicion of my staying here.   

Act. 4. Scaen. 2.  Cutter, Doggerel, Puny, Lucia. Cut. 
Hei! the Sisters are ravished, and we have holy kisses enough. I shall be as great among 'em as— Who's there? What, your Spouse, Pury?  Dog. 
She looks like Niobe on the mountains top.  Cut. 
That Niobe, Doggerel, you have used worse than Phoebus did. Not a dog looks melancholy, but he's compared to Niobe. He beat a villainous Tapster t'other day, to make him look like Niobe.  Pun. 
Why i'faith that 's pretty odd, like one o' mine.  Luc. 
O, Sir, had you the virtuous impudence to slander a poor maid thus?  Pun. 
Poor enough now indeed. I will not marry thee: thy portion was a condition of the Contract. I'll sooner marry a woman that sells Oranges with a face like Belins-gate.  Luc. 
I scorn thee— I contracted to thee?  Pun. 
Wert not? Answer.  Luc. 
No, by heaven.  Pun. 
Bear witness, Gentlemen; these words are Carduus benedictus to me.  Cut. 
And what will you do now, fair Gammer Lucia, you that contemned the Colonel? Will you knit for your living?  Dog. 
Or else weed gardens for six pence a day and bread.  Luc. 
This is unheard-of rudeness.  Pun. 
Nay let me ha' mine too; I ha' got a pat one for her. Or else turn Applewoman, live in a stall, and sell pippins for eight a penny.  Dog. 
Or hither in triumph 'twixt two panniers ride,  
And sell the bowls of wheat and butter in Cheapside.  
The last is a little too long: but I imitate Spencer.  Cut. 
What think ye, Gentlemen? she'll make a pretty Landress.  Pun. 
A Landress? hang her, she looks like a foul handkerchief.  Luc. 
Pray let me go; I ha' business requires me.  Cut. 
What? you're to meet some Gentlemen? How is't? twelve pence a time, I warrant, in these clothes.  Dog. 
Where do you set up? Nay, we are true strikers. What, is't in Covent-garden?  Cut. 
Or do you renew the decayed credit of Turnbal-street?  Pun. 
Or honour the Mill-bank at Westminster.  Dog. 
Or flee to Wapping, and engross the Sailors.  Cut. 
Or moorfield's, and sell cakes.  Luc. 
Are all barbarous here?  Dog. 
Nay tell's; we shall be customers.  Pun. 
Enough, enough; give her a clap o'the breech, and let her go.  Cut. 
Well, fare thee well, girl; we shall find you at the Play house i' the six-peny-room sometimes.  Dog. 
And d'ye hear, Lucia, Keep yourself wholesome: your tubs a terrible thing.  Luc. 
Unworthy villains— But I'm born to wrongs,  
And must endure 'um. Exit.  Omn. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Cut. 
A pretty Scene i'faith. Now for the Captain; he'll entertain us like foreign Princes: we'll drink this half-yeer with him before we eat or sleep.  Pun. 
I'll drink like Gog-Magog himself, or the Spanish Tinker on a holiday.  Dog. 
There will I whet my Lyric Muse  
With Falern wine as I do use.  
Captain Blade cannot refuse  
To entertain us; he cannot choose,  
When we bring him such good news,  
As that his niece is gone to the stews.  Cut. 
Leave your verses, Doggerel. I hate your verses, Doggerel, till I be drunk. 'Tis a glorious Captain.  Dog. 
As free as Free-town in Germany▪ Here comes jeronymo.   

Act. 4. Scaen. 3.  Cutter, Puny, Doggerel, Blade. Bla. 
The story says my niece is run away. The story is not bad. Now will I get the widow, turn off my old rascally companions, and live like an Emperor.  Cut. 
He says he will live like an Emperor; ha, ha, ha, brave Captain.  Pun 
Invincible Captain Priam.  Omn. 
Hei brave Captain!  Blanvel 
What do you mean, Gentlemen? Are ye broke loose from Bedlam? Ha' you no other place to play your tricks in, but at my door? If you come here as Mummers, much may be done; haply you may have twelvepences: or else depart; depart, if you be wise.  Omn. 
Why how now, Captain!  Bla. 
If you be not gone immediately, I'll ha' my men switch you further off— Here are saucy knaves indeed with all my heart—  Offers to go out. Cut. 
By this light the Captain's drunk without us.  Pun. 
Prithee, Captain, thou art as humorous as a bell-rope. Dost thou know me, man? I'm M. Puny.  Blade. 
YE are a fool, an addle egg: there's nothing else but cobwebs i' your head: The height of all thy knowledge is to find out the quarter day against thy rents come in, and thou couldst not find out that, if 'twere not markeed i'the Almanac with red letters. Yet you forsooth, because you see some Gentlemen and Poets of late, a little extravagant sometimes in their similitudes; because they make a pretty kind of sound to those that mark 'em not; make that your way of wit, and never speak without comparisons. But never were comparisons so odious as thine are. And these two Rabbit-suckers, for a quart of wine extol thee, and cry good when thou speakest so.  Pun. 
The Captains raging mad like a Baker when his oven is over heated.  Bla. 
And that was one of 'em—  Cut. 
Come leave your humours, hang you, confound you, pox take you, Captain, we come to drink here.  Bla. 
Mine's no blind Alehouse, where you may roar and swagger with half a pipe of Tobacco in your mouth.  Cut. 
Do you know me, Captain?  Bla. 
I would I never had. Thou art one that sayest thou hast seen the wars, but thou liest basely; for if thou ever wast in a battle, i'm sure thou winkest there. Thou art one that liust like a Raven by providence and rapine: one that if thou shouldst chance to go to bed sober, thou wouldst put it down in thy Almanac for an unlucky day; sleep is not death's image with thee, unless thou be'st dead-drunk.  Dog. 
He dares not abuse me thus.  Cut. 
Is't even so, Captain? Has your money exalted you?  Blanvel 
No, it has humbled me, and made me know myself and you, whom I shall study to forget hereafter.  Dog. 
Come, Captain, shall you and I drink hand to hand?  Bla. 
Oh, you're his Lansprizado, Sirrah, Trundle.  Dog. 
Let not thy wrath swell like the Adrian Sea.  Bla. 
Thou that troublest thyself to be a fool; I will so beat thee, Trundle, that thou shalt hobble like one of thy own Rhyms. Therefore, if ever thou showest that Poetical face of thine within my doors again, I'll use thee worse than thou didst me, when thou mad'st an Ode in commendation of me.  Dog. 
Then break thine oaten reed—  Bla. 
Fare ye well Gentlemen. I shall see thee Cutter a brave Tapster shortly; it must be so i'faith, Cutter; thou must like Bardolph i'the play, the spigot wield. Doggerel shall make and sell small Pamphlets i'the playhouse, or else Tobacco, or else snuff Candles. As for Puny, his means will serve him to be cheated of these five or six years.  Cut. 
'Tis very well the times are so altered.  Bla. 
Ye cannot want a living Gentlemen, as long as there are Whores, Bowling-allies, or Ordinaries; especially such able men as you are. There will be wars too shortly; never quake, Cutter; here's Doggerel, when his want has spun him out a little thinner, will serve you for a pike.  Cut. 
'Tis very well: pray God your mirth last, Captain.  Bla. 
When you're grown old, and your fingers then only nimble with the palsy, I'll provide an Hospital for you— Sedes ubi fata quietas— Fare ye well, Gallants; and pray be merry: Fare ye well heartily.  Exit. Cut. 
Poverty, the pox, an ill wife, and the Devil go with thee, Captain.  Pun. 
I vexed him, when I put that jest upon him, like a Baker when his oven's overheated.  Dog. 
If I don't compose a Satire shall make him hang himself, may I never write verse more.  Cut. 
I would beat him like a Buck, but I shall be bound to the peace for't, and be affronted afterward by every one.  Dog. 
No, no, no— let me see— Besides my Satire I have another way— let me see— His brother trafficked at Guiny.  Cut. 
Yes, but the Merchants there report him dead.  Dog. 
The more knaves they: he lives, and I am he.  Cut. 
How? How, Doggerel, thou the Merchant man?  Dog. 
By this light, I either am, or will be.  Cut. 
How, Doggerel! Though thou be as thin and penetrable as a spirit, yet thou canst not assume dead bodies.  Pun 
Prithee, Dogrel, hold thy peace; thou talkest like a hog's face.  Dog. 
De●ide not Puny: if I be not more like than any of your similitudes, I'll be hang'd for't.  Cut. 
Thy face, indeed, will do exceeding well to represent one risen from the grave  Dog. 
By long conversation with the Captain, I know all the passages between him and his brother; know what his humour, what his state and fortunes were, better than himself did when he lived.  Cut. 
ay, but thou ' lt ne'er act him. Why, man, he was a thing more strange than any monster in afric where he travelled.  Pun. 
What was he, prithee?  Dog. 
I knew him well enough; he had lost his memory, and therefore either writ down every thing, and took his business with him in a scroll, or else trusted it to his man john, whom he carried with him.  Cut. 
O I, that john and he went perpetually together, like the blind man and his dog.  Pun. 
Or a Tinker and his trull. But d'ye hear, gallants, let me do apple- john: never was such a john as I'll be, not john a Gaunt himself, nor john a Nook.  Cut. 
But Doggerel, how wilt thou be made like that Cinque-●ater?  Dog. 
Why we Poets can do any thing. First you may remember (unless you be like him) 'tis seven years since he went from hence; and time, you know, will alter men. I made an Ode upon that subject once: Time, that dost eat, and mak'st no Lent—  Cut. 
Pox take your Ode; go on i' your business, Doggerel.  Dog. 
Then I and my man john (as simply as he stands here) will swarthy over our faces as if the Country had made us so: for if you remember my verses, In afric they are black as coals—  Cut. 
The devil's i' thy verses. Prithee on.  Dog. 
Besides, we'll be attired in some strange habit of those Countries: I know not how; but you shall see't in Speed, Maps.  Cut. 
Why now I like thee, my little Ovid; go about thy Metamorphosis. I'm for Tabytha; she's taken, Doggerel, melted like virgin's wax. I ll to her presently, and tell her that the vision appeared to me last, and warned me to carry her to S. 〈◊〉; there will I have a Priest.  Dog. 
A Priest, Cutter?  Cut. 
A Minister, I mean; a holy, godly, zealous Minister: and she— You conceive me, Doggerel—  Dog. 
Well, let's be going then. Puny, take heed o' your wit when you act john: I shall beat my servant john, if he be witty.  Pun. 
That's the devil; I shall hardly abstain.  Cut. 
And Doggerel, you must make no verses, Doggerel: let that be the first thing your memory fails you in.  Pun. 
Well, I'll follow you in a pissing-while.  Dog. 
Do so, good john. Exit Dog. Cut.  Pun. 
Now will I turn john, as round as a Wedding-ring: and if that plot be cut off by the nose— Ha? Here comes sententious Bias that walks gravely. I'll observe my young Laconian.   

Act. 4. Scaen. 4.  Puny, Truman filius. Tru. 
She's gone for ever. Peace be with thee, Lucia.  
Where ever thou art.  Pun. 
Now he begins his Epithalamium.  Tru. 
If she be guilty,  
Forgive her, heaven; she'll repent, I'm sure:  
For she is soft, and melting as the dew,  
That kisses every morn the ●embling roses;  
And howsoever beauty and youth misled her,  
She cannot be, I know, a stubborn sinner.  Pun. 
Did ever Basketmaker talk thus?  
to himself too, like a Conjurer in a garden?  Tru. 
Ha! This is he, that wicked man,  
That devil which betrayed her.  Pun. 
O, are you thereabouts? Offers to go out.  Tru. 
Nay stay,  
For wert thou armed with thunder and my anger,  
Yet I would bring thee back. Tell me what charms,  
(For I will rip thy heart up but I'll know it)  
What witchcraft didst thou use t'entice her thus?  
Never deny't. For hadst thou been more handsome  
Than other men's, or thine own flattery  
Could ever make thee: hast thou been as beautiful,  
And couldst have spoke as well as she herself,  
All this were nothing; she would look upon thee,  
But lust no more than thine own Angel does.  
No, thou didst use some cursed art to tempt her,  
Some Philter—  Pun 
Not I by all— what d'ye mean pray, Sir?  Tru. 
Why then you ravished her, by Heaven you ravished her:  
Alas, she's weak and tender, very tender,  
And was not able to resist that strength  
Which youth and furious lust did arm thee with.  
'Twas basely done, above expression basely,  
And I would presently revenge it fully,  
But that my sword would take from the laws justice,  
And from thy shame.  Pun. 
I ravish her? By this light I scorn't.  Tru. 
You did enjoy her body? Did you not?  Pun. 
I did so.  Tru. 
You did? I prithee do not say you did so;  
This is to brag of the vile act thoust done:  
But I shall spoil your pride and shameful glory  
Which your base sin affords you.  Pun. 
You bid me tell you the truth, what would you ha'me do?  Tru. 
Do? I would have thee fix thy adulterous eye  
Upon the ground, which thy cursed feet dishonour;  
And blush more red than is the sin thoust acted.  
What would I have thee do? I'd have thee weep,  
Shed as true tears as she does for thy fault,  
And sigh away thy body into air.  
What would I have thee do? I'd have thee kill thyself.  
And sacrifice thy life to her wronged Soul.  
Canst thou refuse to do all this for her,  
For whom thoust damned thyself?  Pun. 
We were contracted first e'er I enjoyed her.  Tru. 
Didst thou enjoy her then? How dared thou do it?  
Why she was mine, I tell thee she was mine;  
All the Seas wealth should not have bought her from me,  
While she remained as spotless as my love:  
And so she did remain till thy sin stained her.  
I tell thee to that hour she was more innocent  
Than thou, false man, wert in thy mother's womb.  
Didst thou enjoy her? Either fetch back that word,  
Say, nay I'll have thee swear thou didst not touch her,  
Or by those joys which thou hast robbed me of,  
I'll kill thee straight.  Pun. 
‛ Siid I did not touch her. What would you ha' me say? would I were john the Merchant's man now.  Tru. 
O heavens! O most unheard of villainy!  
Th' hast done a crime so great, that there is hardly  
Mercy enough in Heaven to pardon thee.  
Tell me, (for now I'll argue mildly with thee)  
Why should you seek t' undo a harmless maid?  
To rob her of her friends, her life perhaps,  
I'm sure her fame, which is much dearer to her.  
'Twas an inhuman act; an act so barbarous,  
That Nations uncivilised would abhor it:  
I dare say boldly she never injured you;  
For she was gentle as the breath of Zephyrus:  
And if she e'er did but begin a thought  
Of wronging any man, she would have wept  
Before she thought it out.  Pun. 
I had rather be a pickled▪ Oyster, then in'is case I am in now.  Tru. 
Is Lucia abused? and I stand here  
T expostulate with words her injuries?  
Draw, for I'll talk no more with thee.  Pun. 
D'ye hear, Sir— by Heaven I lay with her, but we were contracted first— will you be pleased to hear me?  Tru. 
No, be gone.  Pun. 
Most willingly. Fare ye well heartily, Sir; I wish you a good nightcap.  Exit. Tru. 
The want of sleep and diet has distempered me,  
If I stay thus I shall be quite distracted;  
Me thinks a kind of strangeness seizes me:  
And yet if I go home I shall be forced  
To marry with Aurelia. Is it possible  
There should be women good, if Lucia be not?  
They are not sure: She looked as well as any,  
And spoke as well too.   

Act. 4. Scaen. 5.  Truman pater, Truman filius, Blade. Tru. p. 
I tell you, Captain, he's a stubborn boy, a self-willed hare-brained boy: he has his know-nots, and his wo'nots, and his may be's, when I speak. I have told him of his manner a hundred times; nay I may say a thousand.  Bla. 
Pray take my counsel for this once: though I be a soldier, yet I love not to do all things by force. Speak fairly to him.  Tru. p. 
Speak fairly to my son? I'll see him buried, I'll see his eyes out first.  Bla. 
I mean, desire him.  Tru. p. 
O, that's another matter. Well, for your persuasion, I'll do it: but if ever I speak fair to him—  Bla. 
I know his nature's such, that kindness will sooner win him— Look you, he's here i'faith, as melancholy as an owl i' the daytime.  Tru. p. 
O, are you there, Jacksauce—  Bla. 
Nay, remember what I told you.  Tru. p. 
'Tis true indeed How now, son Dick? you're melancholy still, I see.  Tru. f. 
It best becomes my fortune, Sir, now you have cast me off.  True p. 
I cast thee off? marry God forbid, Dick. How dost do, Dick? Thou look'st ill, Dick, in troth thou dost: I must have thee merry.  Bla. 
I see all kindness is against this dotard's nature, he does so overact it.  Tru. p. 
Wilt thou have a Physician, Dick? Thou art my only son, Dick, and I must have a care of thee: thou shouldst ride abroad sometimes, Dick, and be merry. We'll ha' a wife too for thee, Dick, a good wife, ha—  Tru. fill. 
I thank you, Sir; but I know not—  Tru. p. 
ay, now he's at his know-nots. I will make you leave those know-nots, boy—  Bla. 
Remember, M. Truman, what I told you.  Tru. p. 
'Tis true indeed. Your father's old now, Dick, you see, and would fain see a grandchild: 'tis out of love to you, Dick, that I persuade you to't; you may be a comfort, Dick, to your father now.  Tru. f. 
You may command me.  Tru. p. 
Well said, Dick, I see thou lovest me now, Dick; dost thou want any money, Dick? or clothes? or horses? You should tell me what you want, you shall have any thing— here's the Captain, a hearty friend of yours— where's your Daughter, Captain? there's a wench, Dick! ha you seen her?  Tru. f. 
Yes, Sir.  Tru. p. 
And how do you like her, Dick? speak freely.  Tru. f. 
I know no cause why any should dislike her.  True p. 
Why well said, Dick; keep thee o' that mind still, and God will bless thee.  Bla. 
Your father means, Mr. Truman, I suppose, how you like her for a wife.  Tru. p. 
I can tell my own meaning myself I hope, I'm old enough I'm sure.  Tru. f. 
You wrong her much, I never shall deserve her.  
Alas, I am a man so weak in all things,  
So lost both to the world and to myself;  
That if I loved a woman heartily,  
And wooed her with all zealous passions,  
And valued her love 'bove all things else but Heaven;  
Yet, when I thought upon my own unworthiness,  
I should myself persuade her not to marry me.  Bla. 
Well, Sir, if you esteem her worth your choice, she shall be yours.  Tru. p. 
Why what should air him, Captain? He esteem her? Must he, forsooth, or I be Master pray? Captain Blade, you make him too saucy with such talk; never tell me, Captain Blade, I say it makes him too saucy, I marry does it, it does i'faith; must he be his own Carver? Come no more words, I'll have you married presently: i'saith law, Captain, you make him too saucy, that you do, you do i'faith, Sir; I can't abide when sons must come to esteem, he esteem her with a vengeance?  Tru. f. 
I desire time only to consider—  Tru. p. 
ay, why I told you this; 'tis such a another wilful, hair-braind Coxcomb, he's always a considering. Captain Blade, I could never keep him from his considering; but I shall so consider you— go get you in, Sir, I'll have it done when I please; get you in, Sir, I'll keep you from considering hereafter. Exeunt.   

Act. 4. Scaen. 6.  Aurelia, Lucia disguised. Aur. 
What did you say your name was?  Luc. 
Jane, forsooth.  Aur. 
Well said, jane; and as I told you, jane, you shall have six pound a year, jane, for your wages; and then my clothes will serve you with a little alteration: There's a gown of my cousin's within will almost fit you, you're much about her height, you shall ha' that too. I had a Cousin here was a foolish thing god wot, 'tis well I'm rid of her— and d'ye hear— you must be very secret and faithful to your Mistress; a waiting woman's place, is a place require, secrecy.  Luc. 
I shall ill deserve your favour else.  Aur. 
Nay, I dare trust thee, jane, thou look'st ingenuously: didst thou ever live at Court?  Luc. 
No forsooth.  Aur. 
O, you must learn the fashions of the Court: I'm already contracted to one Mr. Puny, though he little things of it; Take heed of speaking, jane, you see I trust you. And when I'm married to him I'll live at Court: He's a simple thing God knows, but I'll have him knighted, and I like him the better for't: A wise woman you know will make the best use of a foolish husband. You know how to dress me, jane, i'the Court fashion?  Luc. 
Yes forsooth.  Aur. 
And you can lay me on a Fucus handsomely?  Luc. 
I hope I shall quickly learn it.  Aur. 
And when you see a friend with me, or so, that I would be private with; you can stay i'the next room, and see that no body come in, to interrupt us?  Luc. 
I shall not be deficient in my duty.  Aur. 
Well said. And can you tell in private such a Gentleman that you heard me speak in commendation of him, and that I dreamt of him last night? that will be in your way, jane, such men will be grateful. And say that I was longing t'other day, for such a jewel or such a toy?  Lucia makes a courtesy. Luc. 
I hope you shall not find me wanting in any service to you.  Aur. 
I believe thee, jane. To morrow I'll teach thee more: I shall read to you every day a lesson, till I see you perfect in the science: 'tis requisite that you have a little of the Theory first. Go look out the pearl chain in the Cabinet within; and stay till I come to you. Exit jane.  
The wench I see is docile, and will learn; but alas she must have time; she has a little to much City breeding, I see, by Courtesies and forsooths.   

Act 4. Scaen. 7.  Aurelia, Blade. Bla. 
How now? all alone, Aurelia? you're eating soap and ashes here, I warrant you, without so much as saying grace for 'um.  Aur. 
I'd rather repent in ashes, Sir, then eat 'em  Bla. 
What would you think if I should marry now this very day?  Aur. 
I should think, Sir, you'd repent to morrow for't.  Bla. 
And the widow too.  Aur 
The widow? then you'll repent to night, Sir, I believe.  Bla. 
I wooed her long ago, and now she sees there's an estate fallen to me, faith she's content; and, to save charges, is willing to be married to day privately.  Aur. 
But I hope you are not so, Sir: why we shall have all the silenced Ministers humming and hawing thrice a week here; not a dish o' meat but will be longer a blessing then a roasting. I shall never hear my Virginals when I play upon 'em, for her daughter Tabytha's singing of Psalms. The first pious deed will be, to banish Shakespeare and Ben. johnson out of the parlour, and to bring in their rooms Mar-prelate, and pryn's works. You'll ne'er endure 't, Sir You were wont to have a Sermon once a quarter at a good time; you shall have ten a day now.  Bla. 
Let me alone to deal with 'um. If any of her eating talking tribe show their ears here, I will so use her tribe, that they shall free the Pope, and call me Antichrist hereafter: and the widow, I'll warrant you, I'll convert: I'll carry her to Plays, in stead of Lectures: she shall see them, as well as the dancing o' the ropes, and the Puppet-play of Nineve. But this is not my business, girl: I have an husband too for you.  Aur. 
I could wish you would keep him, Sir, if you have him; I know not what to do with him myself.  Bla. 
Come, 'tis a man you'll like, I'm sure; I have heard you often commend him for his parts. 'Tis young M. Truman.  Au. 
Truman, Sir? the melancholy cross-armed Gentleman that talks to trees and rivers as he goes by 'um? We should sit all day together like pictures of man and wife, with our faces towards one another, and never speak I'll undertake, upon our Marriage-night he'll only sigh a little, cry Cruel Fate, and then go sleep.  Bla. 
Never fear't. Come, thou shalt have him, girl: go quickly and dress yourself; we'll both be married on a day. The humour is good, and it saves charges: there's the widow's humour too.  Aur. 
You'll give me leave, Sir—  Bla. 
No, no, no; prithee go dress thyself: by heaven it must be as I say: the fates have ordained it.  Aur. 
Be pleased to hear me, Sir.  Bla. 
I would not hear thee, though thou wert an Angel. I'm as resolute as he that writ the Resolves. Come away, and adorn thyself. Exeunt.   

Act. 4. Scaen. 8.  Cutter, Doggerel, and Puny disguised. Pun. 
Me thinks. I look now like a twopenny apple pie, I know not how.  Dog. 
john, What's your name, john? I have forgot your name, john.  Pun. 
Do you mean the name that was given me at the Font?  Dog. 
Font? Font? I do not remember that Font. Let me see my scroll. (Reads.) There's ne'er a such town in Africa as Font. I do not remember Font.  Pun. 
Your memory, Sir, 's as short as an Ephemerideses.  Dog. 
Did not I warn you, john, of such strange what-d'ye-call ums? Here's for that word. (striketh.) I have forgot what word 'twas: for the word I mean.  Pun. 
Pox take you, Doggerel, you strike too hard.  Cut. 
thou'dst act well, I see: we'll ha' thee to Golden-lane, and there thou shalt do a King, or else some God in thine own clothes.  Dog. 
When a dead man from Orcus I retract,  
Well may you see that to the life I act.  Pun. 
Did not I warn you o' these what-d'ye-call-ums? I'faith we'll be even, Master. Strikes him.  Cut. 
Very well, john; those be good Memorandums for your Master.  Dog. 
I should be angry with thee for it, but that I ha' quite forgot it.  Cut. 
Let's see your scroll. (Reads) Me●morandum for my house: I have a house in Fleetstreet, with a garden to't. My daughter is called Lucia; a handsome fair maid with red cheeks, black eyes, and brown hair, and a little dimple in her chin. My brother's name (to whom I left the charge of my daughter) is Blade. (A most excellent Note indeed.) What ha' we here? Memorandums concerning my estate. What, they're all of this stamp, are they not? Take heed, Doggerel, the Captain's a shrewd fellow; he'll examine you more strictly than the Spanish Inquisition can.  Dog. 
Pish, if he pose me in any thing, my memory's weak, he knows; I he forgot it quite.  Cut. 
And then your voice I fear; and then—  Dog. 
Pox take you, Cutter; a Casuist would not find so many scruples.  Pun. 
The devil's in't, I shall never do this part; I know not how to speak and not be witty.  Cut. 
Well, look to't, gallants; if the Captain find you out, he'll abuse you most unmercifully— I'm now for Tabytha.  Pun. 
The Captain abuse me? By this day, I'll jeer with him with my hands bound behind me. Come away, Master.  Dog. 
ay, john; but which way did we come?  Pun. 
Why this way, Master.  Dog. 
Then that way we must go. Is not this my house in Fleet street, john I thought you had said t' had been in Fleet street.  Pun. 
Yes, so 'tis, Sir.  Dog. 
Truly I thought you said so. Come away, john. Exeunt.   
Finis Actus quarti.   

Act. 5.  

Scaen. 1.  Cutter, Tabytha. Cut. 
And the vision told me, sister Tabytha, that this same day, the twelfth of March, in the year of grace 1641, at this same holy place, by a holy man, we two, who are both holy vessels, should be joined together in the holy band of Matrimony.  Tab. 
My mother will be angry, I'm afeard.  Cut. 
Your mother will rejoice. I would not for a world that you should do it, but that we were commanded from above; yea, I may say commanded: for, to do things without a divine warrant, is like unto the building of a fire without a bottom cake.  Tab. 
I (God knows) that it is.  Cut. 
Very well, sister. Now when my eyes were opened in the morning, I awoke: for it was morning-tide, and my eyes were opened; and I looked into my pockets; for my breeches lay upon a joined stool not far from the bed's side: and in my pockets, even made with leather, I looked (I say) and found; What did I find? marry a Licence written with ink and pen: Where did I find it? in no other place, but even in a godly Catechism which I had wrapped and folded up long-ways, even in that very pocket.  Tab. 
I would my mother knew it. But I'll not resist, God willing.  Cut. 
There is a godly Teacher within, that never was defiled with the Cap and Surplice, never wore that gambol called the Hood; even he shall join our hands. Shall we enter, sister?  Tab. 
Brother, I'll not resist.  Exeunt.  

Act. 5. Scaen. 2.  Truman filius, Aurelia. Tru. 
And must we marry then?  Aur. 
It appears so by the story.  Tru. 
Why will you marry me? What is there in me  
That may deserve your liking? I shall be  
The most ill-favoured melancholy Bridegroom  
That ever took a melting maid t'his bed:  
The faculties of my Soul are all untuned,  
And every glory of my spreading youth  
Is turned into a strange and sudden winter.  
You cannot love me sure.  Aur. 
No by my troth, Sir.  Tru. 
No, nor I you. Why should we marry then?  
'Twere a mere folly, were it not Aurelia?  Aur. 
Nay, ask our Parents why. But, Sir, they say  
'Tis the best marriage where like is joined to like;  
Now we two are a very even match;  
For neither I love, you nor you love me;  
And 'tis ten to one but we shall beget  
Children that will love neither of us.  Tru. 
Nay, by my Soul I love you, but alas,  
Not in that way that husbands love their wives;  
I cannot play, nor toy, nor kiss, nor do  
I know not what: And yet I was a lover,  
As true a lover—  Aur. 
A lack a day, Sir.  Tru. 
'Twas then methought the greatest happiness  
To sit and talk, and look upon my Mistress,  
Or (if she was not by) to think upon her.  
Then every morning next to my devotion,  
And sometimes too (forgive me Heaven) before it,  
She slipped into my fancy, and I took it  
As a good omen for the following day.  
It was a pretty foolish kind of life,  
An honest harmless vanity: But now  
The fairest face moves me no more than Snow  
Or Lilies when I see 'em and pass by.  
And I as soon shall deeply fall in love  
With the fresh scarlet of an Eastern cloud,  
As the red lips and cheeks of any woman.  
I do confess, Aurelia, thou art fair  
And very lovely, and (I think) good natured.  Aur. 
Faith, Sir, I would not willingly be a man, if they be all like you.  Tru. 
And prithee now, Aurelia, tell me truly,  
Are any women constant in their vows?  
Can they continue a whole week? a month?  
And never change their faith? O if they could,  
They would be excellent things. Nay, ne'er dissemble:  
Are not their lusts unruly, insolent,  
And as commanding as their beauties are?  
Are their tears true and solid when they weep?  Aur. 
Sure, Mr. Truman, you han't slept of late;  
If we be married to night, what will  
You do for sleep?  Tru. 
Why? Do not married people use to sleep?  Aur. 
Yes, yes. Alas good innocence!  Tru. 
They have a scurvy time of't if they do not;  
But we'll not be as other people are,  
We'll find out some new handsome way of love,  
Some kind of way that few shall imitate,  
But all admire. For 'tis a sordid thing  
That lust should dare t'insinuate itself  
Into the marriagebed. We'll get no children,  
The worst of men and women can do that.  
Besides too, if our issue should be female,  
They would all learn to flatter and dissemble,  
They'd all deceive with promises and vows  
Some simple man, and then turn false and kill him.  
Would they not do't Aurelia?  Aur. 
Our sex is little beholding to you, Sir; I would your mother were alive to hear you. But pray, Mr. Truman, what shall we do when we are married?  Tru. 
Why we'll live lovingly together:  
Sometimes we'll sit and talk of excellent things,  
And laugh at all the nonsense of the world:  
Sometimes we'll walk together into the fields:  
Sometimes we'll pray and read, and sometimes eat,  
And sometimes sleep; and then at last we'll die,  
And go to heaven together. 'Twill be dainty▪  Aur. 
We may do this, me thinks, and never marry for the business.  Tru. 
'Tis true, we might do so:  
But since our parents are resolved upon't,  
In such a trifle let 'em have their humour.  
My father sent me here to compliment,  
And keep a prating here, and play the fool:  
I cannot do 't. What should I do, Aurelia?  
What do they use to say?  Aur. 
Sure. Sir, you knew, when you were a suitor to my cousin Lucia.  Tru. 
ay, but those days are past, and I have now  
Forgot what manner of man a lover is:  
I was one then, I'm sure on't. O that Lucia,  
That Lucia was so wonderful a creature—  
There was a cheek, a lip, a nose, an eye!  
Did you observe her eye, Aurelia?  Aur. 
Yes, yes, Sir, you were wont to sit all day,  
And look upon the pretty babies in it.  Tru. 
It was as glorious as the eye of heaven,  
Like the souls eye, dispersed through every thing.  
And then her hands! her hands of liquid Ivory!  
Did she but touch her Lute (the pleasing'st harmony  
Than upon earth, when she herself was silent)  
The subtle motion of her flying fingers  
Taught Music a new art, To take the sight  
As well as th'ear.  Aur. 
ay, I, Sir, youhad best go look her out, and marry her.  Tru. 
Nay prithee be not angry, good Aurelia;  
I do not say she is more fair than thou art:  
Yet if I did— No, but I will not say so:  
Only I strive to cherish the remembrance  
Of one I loved so well. And, now I think on't,  
I'll beg a favour of you: you'll laugh at me,  
I know, when you have heard me: but I'll beg it:  
Prithee be veiled as Lucia was of late;  
Cast such a silken cloud upon thy beauty  
For this one day: I'd fain marry you so.  
'Tis an odd foolish humour, I confess:  
But love and grief may be allowed sometimes  
A little innocent folly.  Aur. 
Well, I'll obey your humour; pray walk in there;  
I'll only dress myself, and wait upon you.  Tru. 
And we'll be married very privately.  
None but ourselves, it will be best, Aurelia.  Exit. Aur. 
Why here's a husband for a wench of clouts! May I never laugh again, if his company has not made me duller than Ale and buttered cakes would ha' done. I marry him? the old men must excuse me. I'll sooner choose a fellow that lies bedrid, and can do nothing a-nights but cough. Well, if I don't teach 'em what 'tis to force a wench that has wit, may my husband beat me when I have one, and I sit still and cry. I like this very well— It shall be so. jane, come hither, jane.   

Act. 5. Scaen. 3.  Aurelia, Lucia. Aur. 
O jane, that's well; little think you what good's towards you; 'tis that you have wished for, I dare say, these five years; a good handsome husband. What think you of young Truman?  Luc. 
I think every thing  
That makes a man complete, and his wife happy,  
The richest glories of a mind and body,  
And their not ill companion, Fortune too,  
Are reconciled and married all in him:  
And I commend the wisdom of your stars,  
That join you two together.  Aur. 
Nay saith thou shalt even have him thyself for better or worse. He's too handsome indeed, unless he could make better use of his beauty; for by my troth, wench, I'm afraid thou'lt find thy pillow as good a bedfellow.  Luc. 
I pray do not mock your servant.  Aur. 
Thou shalt see, jane, I do not; come in, wench, and I'll tell thee all my plot. Exeunt.   

Act. 5. Scaen. 4.  Blade, Servant. Bla. 
Well, Sir, is the Cook doing according to my directions?  Seru. 
Yes, Sir, he's very hard at his business i'the kitchen: he has been a swearing and cursing at the scullions at least this hour, Sir.  Bla. 
'Tis such an over-wasted Coxcomb; an other wedding dinner would make him a S. Laurence: bid him be sure the Venison be well seasoned  Seru. 
Troth, Sir, I dare not speak to him now, unless I put on the armour in the hall: he had like to have spitted me next to a goose, for saying that he looked like an ox that was roasted whole at S. Iame's fair.  Bla. 
You have invited all the guests to dinner you talked of?  Seru. 
Yes, Sir.  Bla. 
And the widow's round-headed kindred?  Seru. 
Yes, Sir.  Bla. 
They'll come i'their guarded petticoats, will they not? You should have bid 'em eat no porride at home, to seem more mannerly here at dinner. The widow will be angry at their charges, but I'll please her at night. Go bid the Butler look to his plate, and not be drunk till he sees it all in again. Whose at the door there?   

Act. 5 Scaen. 5.  Blade, Doggerel, and Puny disguised. Seru. 
Faith, Sir, you know as well as I; some charitable beast come to be dressed here. Shall I call the Cook, Sir?  Dog. 
Why this is my house here, john: ha! ha! little thought I to have seen my house in Fleetstreet again. Where's my brother Blade?  Bla. 
They call me Captain Blade.  Dog. 
Is this he john? Let me see (reads) A proper burly man, with a whitish beard, a quick eye, and a nose inclining to red, 'tis true Save you good brother, you did not expect me here; did you brother? Stay let me see how many years ago is't since we went from home?  Pun. 
'Tis now just seven, Sir.  Dog. 
Seven! me think's I was here but yesterday: How the what-d'ye-call-'um runs? What do ye call it?  Pun. 
Time, Sir.  Dog. 
ay, I, Time. What was't I was saying? O, I was telling you brother, that I had quite forgot you: was I not telling him so john?  Bla. 
By my troth, Sir, we are both quits then; for I have forgot you too. Why, you were dead five years ago.  Dog. 
Was I so? I ha' quite forgot it. john, was I dead five years ago? My memo●ry fails me very much of late▪  Pun. 
We were worse than dead I'm sure; we were taken by a barbarous kind of Nation, and there made slaves these five years. john quoth he! I was poor john indeed: I'm sure they fed us three whole years with nothing but Acorns and water: we looked like wicker-bottles.  Dog. 
How, Sirrah? Did your Master look like a wicked boat-man? (strikes him) Nay I remember what you said we looked like Did we look like what-d'ye-call-ums?  Bla. 
Where did they take you prisoners?  Dog. 
Nay ask john, he can tell you I warrant you. 'Twas in— tell him, john, where it was.  Pun. 
In Guiny, Sir.  Bla. 
By what Countrymen were you taken?  Dog. 
Why they were called— I know not what they called 'em 'twas an odd kind of name; but john can tell you.  Pun. 
'Slife, who I Sir? d'ye think I can remember all things?  Dog. 
'Tis in my book here; I remember well the name of any Country under the Sun.  Pun. 
I know their names, Sir, well enough; but I only tried my Master's memory. They be called Tartarians.  Dog. 
How say you? what were they?  Pun. 
Tartarians, Sir.  Dog. 
ay, I, these were the men  Bla. 
How, john! why all the world, man, lies between 'em: they live up i' the North.  Pun. 
The North?  Bla. 
ay, the very North, john.  Pun. 
That's true indeed: but these were another nation of the Tartarians that lived by us.  Bla. 
Well, how escaped you, john, at last?  Pun. 
Why i'faith, Sir, to tell you the truth, for I love not to tell a lie, the King's daughter fell in love with me, and for my sake there set us free. My master has it all in his book; 'tis a fine story.  Bla. 
Strange! In what ship did you come back?  Dog. 
What ship? why 'twas called— a thing that swims— How d'ye call it?  Bla. 
What? the Mermaid?  Dog. 
No, no, no, let me see—  Bla. 
What? was't the Triton?  Dog. 
No, no— it swims, I tell you.  Bla. 
The Dolphin?  Dog. 
No, no— I have forgot what ' 'twas.  Bla. 
What say you, john?  Pun. 
(Pox take him.) ay, Sir? O God, my Master, Sir, can tell as well as I.  Bla. 
He says he has forgot.  Pun. 
'tis his pleasure to say so, Sir: he may say what he pleases. (A plague upon him.) You can't conceive the misery we have passed, Sir.  Bla. 
Well, brother, I'll make bold to ask one question more of you. Where did you leave your Will when you went away?  Pun. 
'Slife, now he's posed again.  Dog. 
I'll tell you presently, brother; let me see. (Reads.) Memorandum for my Will: Left to my brother Blade the whole charge of my estate— hum— What did you ask me brother?  Bla. 
In what place you left your Will?  Dog▪ 
ay, that was it indeed; you're i' the right; 'twas the very thing you asked me; and yet see how quickly I forgot it. My memory's short, alas, God help me.  Bla. 
This is no answer to my question, yet.  Dog. 
'Tis true indeed. What was your question, pray?  Bla. 
Where you left your Will.  Dog. 
Good lord● I had forgot you asked me this; I had forgot, i'faithlaw, that I had: you'll pardon my infirmity, I hope, brother; for alas— alas— I ha' forgot what I was going to say to you; but I was a saying something, I am sure.  Pun. 
Did not you know us, Will? prithee tell's true.  Seru. 
No, by this light: why, you're grown as black as the chimney-stock.  Pun. 
That's the nature of the Country where we lived. O the stories that I shall tell you! And how does Nell, and little bonny Bess? are they as merry grigs as e'er they were?  Seru. 
No; Bess, poor wench, is married to a Chandler; but she's true blue still, as right as my leg, I'll warrant you.  Dog. 
What is't, john? what was I going to say, john, to my brother?  Pun. 
I know not, Sir; was't not about your daughter?  Dog. 
ay, I, my daughter— What d'ye call her?  Pun. 
Lucia, Sir.  Dog. 
'Tis true indeed; my daughter Lucia, brother.  Bla. 
Pray walk into the parlour; I'll come to you presently, and tell you all.  Dog. 
Well, john, put me in mind o' my daughter Lucia. (A plague o' your Tartarians.)  Pun. 
(And o' your what-d'ye-call ums.)  Dog. 
('Slife, Tartarians.) Exeunt Dog. Pun.  Bla. 
If these be rogues, they are as impudent as Mountebanks and Jugglers: and if I find 'em to be rogues, (as I see nothing yet to the contrary) how I will exercise my rogues! The tyranny of a new Beadle over a beggar, shall be nothing to mine. Come hither, Will, what think you of these two fellows?  Seru. 
I'faith, Sir, I know not: but if you think it be not my old Master, I'll beat 'em worse than the Tartarians did.  Bla. 
No, no, let's try 'em first. Thou wast wont to be a very precious knave, and a great actor too, a very Roscius. Didst not thou once act the Clown in Musidorus?  Seru. 
No, Sir; but I played the Bear there.  Bla. 
The Bear? why that's a good part; thouart an actor then, I'll warrant thee. The Bear's a well penned part. And you remember my brother's humour, don't you? They have almost hit it.  Seru. 
Yes, Sir, I know the shortness of my Master's memory; he would forget sometimes to pay me my wages till he was put in mind on't.  Bla. 
Well said. I'll dress thee within in his own chamber; and all the servants shall acknowledge you. But who shall do trusty john?  Seru. 
O, Ralph the Butler, Sir; he's an old actor, Sir, h'has played a King he says. I have heard him speak a Play ex tempore in the Buttery, Sir.  Bla. 
O Ralph, excellent Ralph, incomparable Ralph, Ralph against the world! Come away, William; I'll give you instructions within. It must be done in the twinkling of an eye. Exeunt.   

Act. 5. Scaen. 6.  Cutter, Tabytha, Boy. Cut. 
Now, Mistress Tabytha Cutter, let me kiss thee.  Tab. 
Pray God my mother be not angry.  Cut. 
Think not o' thy mother, Spouse; I tell thee, Spouse, thou shalt be a mother thyself, within these nine months.  

Come to my bed, my dear; my dear come to my bed:  
For the pleasant pain,  
And the loss with gain,  
Is the loss of a maidenhead.   Tab. 
Is that a Psalm, brother husband, that you sing?  Cut. 
No, no, a short ejaculatory. Sirrah boy, are the things within that I spoke for?  Boy. 
Yes, Sir.  Cut. 
Go fetch 'em in. Exit Boy. Come, Tabytha, let's be merry: Canst thou sing a catch, wench? O well said, Boy!  Enter boy with a hat and a feather, a broad band, a sword & a belt, & a periwig. Tab 
What do you mean, brother husband?  
I hope you'll not turn roarer.  Cut. 
What? do these clothes befit Queen Tabytha▪ s husband? this hat with a chimny-crown, and brims no broader than a moderate hatband? Give me the Periwig, boy. What? shall Empress Tabytha's husband go as if his head were scalded? or with the seam of a shirt for a band? Shall I walk without a sword, and not dare to quarrel i' the streets, and thrust men from the wall? Will the Fiddlers be here presently, boy?  Boy. 
Yes, Sir.  Tab. 
Pish, I can't abide these doings. Are you mad? O lord! what will my mother say? There shall come no Fiddlers here.  Cut. 
Be peaceable, gentle Tabytha; they will not bring the Organs with 'um. I say be peaceable; he vision bid me do thus. Wilt thou resist the vision?  Tab. 
An these be your visions— Little did I think 'twere— Is this your religion and praying? Which of all the Prophets wore such a map about his head, or such a sheet about his neck? What shall I do? I am undone.  Cut. 
What shalt thou do? Why, thou shalt dance, and sing, and drink, and laugh; thou shalt go with thy breasts open, and thy hair braided; thou shalt put fine black stars upon thy face, and have great bobs for thy ears. Nay, if thou dost begin to look rustily, I'll have thee paint thy face like the whore of Babylon.  Tab. 
O that ever I was born to see this day!  Cut. 
What? dost thou weep, Queen Did●? Thou shalt have Sack to drive away thy sorrow. Come hither, boy, fetch me a quart of Canary. (Exit boy.) Thou shalt see I'll be a loving husband to thee. The vision, Tabytha, bid me give you drink: we must obey these visions. Sing, Tabytha: Cry on your wedding-day? 'tis ominous.  

Come to my bed, my dear;  
Come to my bed:  
For the pleasant pain— Enter boy with wine.   
O art thou come, boy— Well said, fill a brimmer; nay fuller yet, yet a little fuller. So. Here's to the Lady-Spouse; to our good sport to night.  Tab. 
Drink it yourself, if you will; I'll not touch it.  Cut. 
By this hand, thou shalt pledge me, seeing the vision said so. Drink, or I'll take a Coach and carry thee to a Play immediately.  Tab. 
I can't abide— (She drinks.)  Cut. 
Why, this will clear thy heart, wench: Sack, and an husband, wench, are both comfortable things. Have at you again.  Tab. 
I'll pledge you no more. not I  Cut. 
Here, take this glass, and take it off too, or else I'll swear an hundred oaths in a breathing-time. Here—  Tab. 
Well, you're the strangest man—  Cut. 
Why this is right now. Nay off with it. So. But the vision said that whatsoever we left of this same wine, would turn to poison strait. There, here's to you, Tabytha, once again: 'tis the visions will.  Tab. 
What? must I drink again, then? Well, I'll not resist. You're such another brother-husband. (Drinks.) There's a whole one now—  

Come to my bed, my dear;  
Come to my bed—   
How was't? 'twas a pretty one.  Cut. 
O divine Tabytha! Here come the Fiddlers too. Strike up, you rogues.  Tab. 
What? must we dance now? is not that the fashion? I could have danced the Coranto when I was a girl. The Corantoes a curious dance.  Cut. 
We'll dance out the disease of the Tarantula: but first we'll have a health to my pretty Tabytha.  Tab. 
I'll begined myself. Here, Duck, here's to all that love us.  Cut. 
A health, you eternal scrapers sound a health. Bravely done, Tabytha: what thinkst thou now o' thy mother?  Tab. 
A fig for my mother; I'll be a mother myself. Come, Duckling, shall we go home?  Cut. 
Go home? the Bride and the Bridegroom go? We'll dance home. Afore us, squeakers: that way, and be hanged. So. O brave Queen Tabytha! excellent Empress Tabytha! On, you rogues They go out dancing, with the music before 'um.   

Act. 5. Scaen. 7.  Blade, Doggerel, Puny. Dog. 
I must not be fobbed off thus about my daughter: I remember not your excuse; but john can tell well enough, I warrant you.  Bla. 
I have told you the plain truth: you'll not be angry, I hope.  Dog. 
I shall have cause to be angry, I fear: Did not I leave her to his charge, john? Brother, I tell you—  Bla. 
I must not answer, brother—  Dog. 
I know you put me out, that I might forget what I said to you before: remember, john: I'll be as cunning as you're crafty: remember, John. How now? what's the matter? Enter servant.  Seru. 
Ho, my old Master's come; he's lighted now at the door with his man John: he's ask for you; he longs to see you: my Master, my old Master.  Bla. 
This fellow's mad.  Seru. 
If you won't believe me, go in and see, Sir: he's not so much altered, but you'll quickly know him. I knew him as soon as I saw him. Pray, Sir, go in. Exeunt Blade and servant.  Bla. 
Why this is strange.  Pun. 
If this be true, what course shall we take, Doggerel? I begin to shake like a plum-tree-leaf.  Dog. 
We'll shift some way or other, I warrant you.  Pun. 
How, Doggerel? prithee how?  Dog. 
Let the worst come, we can be but whipped, or burnt in the hand, at the most.  Pun. 
Ho, our best way will be to hang ourselves— 'Slife, here's John.   

Act. 5. Scaen 8.  Doggerel, Puny, John, two or three servants. 1 Seru. 
Give me thy hand i'faith, boy: is't possible that thou shouldst be alive still?  2 Seru. 
Ha rogue! art thou come i'faith? I have a pottle o' Sack to welcome thee.  3 Serv. 
Why you'll not look upon your poor friends, John Give me thy golls, John. How hast thou done this great while?  John. 
I thank you all heartily for your love; thank you with all my heart-law. What? my old bedfellow Robin? how dost do? when shall we steal Apricocks again? d'ye remember, Robin?  2 Seru. 
A murrain take you; you'll never forget your roguery.  Pun. 
A murrain take you all: this was your plot, and be hanged▪ Would I were Puny the Wit again.  Dog. 
Accursed Fate—  3 Seru. 
Come, John, let's go to the Buttery and be merry: Ralph longs to see you, I'm sure.  John. 
And how does Ralph? good honest Ralph? That Ralp's as honest a fellow, though I say't myself; I love him with all my heart-law, that I do; and there's no love lost, I dare say for him.  2 Seru. 
Come, my masters, will you go in? I'll prevail with the Cook for a slice or two of Beef; and we'll have a cup of Stingo, the best in the cellar.  John. 
Well said, steel to the back still; that was your word, you know. My master's coming in: go. I'll follow you strait.  1 Seru. 
Make haste, good John, for I can't stay. Exeunt Servants.  John. 
Here's a company of as honest fellows as a ma● would with to live i' the house withal; all, no man excepted▪  Dog. 
Would I were out of the house, as honest as they are. Here they come, John.  Pun. 
John, quoth he, with a pox.   

Act. 5. Scaen. 9  Doggerel, Puny, John, Blade, William. Bla. 
Me thinks you're not returned, Sir,  
But born to us anew, and I could wish  
My tongue were not more niggardly than my heart  
In giving you a welcome.  Will 
Thank you good brother. Truly we ha' passed through many dangers; my man shall tell you all, I'm old and crazy, and forget these things. Enter Widow.  Bla. 
Pox on't, the Widow's come already; keep 'em here John, till I come back. O are you here sweetheart?  Wid. 
Who have you yonder, I pray?  Bla. 
O you should not ha' seen 'em yet, they are Maskers.  Wid. 
Not vagrant players, I hope?  Bla. 
No, no, they can only tumble, and dance upon the rope, you shall see 'em after dinner. Let●s away sweetheart, the Parson stays for us, he has blown his fingers this hour. Exeunt Blade and the Widow.  Dog. 
I'm glad the Captain's gone, now will I sneak away, like one that has stolen a silver-spoone.  Pun. 
I'll be your man and follow you.  Wil 
Who are these john? By your leave, Sir; would you speak with any here?  Dog 
The Captain, Sir. But I'll take some other time to wait on him, my occasions call me now.  Wil 
Nay, pray, Sir, stay. Whom did you say you would speak withal?  Dog. 
The Captain, Sir. But another time will serve. I ha' some haste of business.  Will. 
Whom would he speak with, john? I forget still.  joh. 
The Captain Sir.  Will. 
Captain? What Captain Sir?  Dog. 
Your brother I suppose he is.  Will. 
'Ti, true indeed, I had forgot that my brother was a Captain. I cry you mercy, Sir, he'll be here presently. Are you an Englishman, Sir?  Dog. 
Yes, Sir.  Will. 
Where were you born I pray?  Dog. 
In London, Sir. I must leave you—  Will. 
In London? you're an Englishman than I see, Sir. Would you have spoke with me Sir?  Dog. 
No, with your brother, but my business with him requires not haste, and therefore—  Will. 
You're not in haste you say; pray sit down then: may I crave your name, Sir?  Dog. 
My name's not worth your knowledge, Sir; but my man's name's john.  Pun. 
(If I be John any more I'll be hanged) No my name Timothy, Sir.  Will. 
Mr. John Timothy? Very well, Sir. You seem to Be a Traveler.  Dog. 
We're newly come out of Africa, and therefore have some business that requires us  Will. 
Of Africa? Law you there now. What Country pray?  Dog. 
Prester John's Country. Fare you well, Sir. now.  Will. 
Marry God forbid. What come from Prester John, and we not drink a cup of Sack together?  Dog. 
(What shall I do?) Friend, shall I trouble you to show me where your house of office is?  Will. 
You'll stay here Mr.— what's your name, pray?  Pun. 
Timothy, Sir.  Will. 
God's me, 'tis true indeed Mr. John Timothy.  Pun. 
Ill only make water, and come to you.  Joh. 
The door, Sir, is locked; the Captain has locked us all in here, if you●ll be pleased to stay, Sir, till he comes—  Dog. 
(I'd as live stay to meet the Devil, or a Sergeant.)  Pun. 
(Would I were hid like maggot in a peascod; we shall be abused I see, oh, oh, oh,)  Joh. 
What makes you quake so, Sir?  Pun. 
Nothing, only I have an extreme list to make water: 'Tis nothing else by this light.  Will. 
My brother would not have you gone it seems. Your names Mr. John Timothy, is it?  Dog. 
No, that's my man's name.  Will. 
O, your man's name; 'tis true, 'tis very true indeed, that's your man's name. You'll pardon me, Sir?  joh. 
Pray, friend, do you know the great City called Astervadil, where my namesake Prester-Iohn keeps his Court?  Pun. 
Know't? ay, very well; I have lived there a great while, I have cause to know't.  joh. 
there's a brave Castle of three miles long.  Pun. 
ay, and many stately building too.  joh. 
The noble men's houses are all built of Marble.  Pun. 
They make indeed a glorious show. I ha' seen 'um.  joh. 
It may be so. But to my knowledge, friend, there is no such City there.  Pun. 
It may be the names are altered since I was there. (Here's the Captain, I'll sneak behind the hangings.)   

Act. 5. Scaen. 10.  Doggerel, Puny, William, john, Blade, Widow. Bla. 
I like this Person well, he has made short work on't, he had appointed sure some meetting at an Alehouse. Welcome wife, welcome home now. But I ha' two brethren which you must know.  Wid. 
Marry, heavens for●sheild, Sir.  Bla. 
Brethren in God sweetheart, no otherwise. Come hither Guiny brother; what say you?  William 
This Gentleman, Brother, has stayed for you here; pray use him kindly, he's a Traveller: where did you say you travelled Sir?  Bla. 
O yes! How do you, brother?  Dog. 
I your brother? what d'ye mean?  Bla. 
Why, are not you my brother Blade that was taken captive by the Tartars? Ha!  Dog. 
You're merrily disposed, Sir: ay your brother! I taken captive by the Tartars! Ha, ha, ha! I understand not your meaning, Sir.  Bla. 
What an impudent slave's this! Sirrah monster, didst not thou come with thy man john?  Dog. 
ay, my man john? here's no such fellow here, you see: how you're mistaken, Sir! you mean some other man. This is the strangest humour.  Bla. 
Sirrah, dost thou see this fist? dost thou see this foot? I'll wear these out upon thee—  Dog. 
Hold, pray Sir, hold. I remember now indeed that I was Blade the Merchant; but I had quite forgot it. You must pardon me; my memory's very weak.  Bla. 
I like the humour. But I must know, Sir, who you are, now you ha' left being my brother.  Dog. 
Who, I? done't you know me? I'm Doggerel the Poet, and Puny was my man john. Lord that you should not know▪ me all this while! not know Poet Doggerel!  

Why I intended here this merry play,  
To solemnize your nuptial-day.   Wid. 
O thank you, M. Doggerel; Can you dance upon the ropes, and tumble? Truly I never knew it before, not I  Bla. 
Where's that fool, Puny? Is he slipped away?  Pun. 
(He was wise enough to do so, I'll warrant you.)  Bla. 
I will beat him so, that he shall not find a similitude for himself. As for you, Doggerel, because you came off pretty handsomely, with the best at the last, like an Epigram, I may chance to pardon you; but upon this condition, that you make no Epithalamium upon my marriage.  
Well said, Will; bravely done, He pulls off his men's disguises. Will: i'faith thou shalt ha' two laces more to thy Livery, for doing this so well. I told thee, Will, what 'twas to have acted the Bear in Musidorus. And Ralph was a brave john too—  Dog. 
How's this? I plainly see I'm an Ass then: 'twas this damned Puny's fearfulness spoiled all.  Pun. 
(A pox o' this coward Doggerel: I thought they were not the right ones.)  Bla. 
I see my Players had more wit than my Poet. Here's something for you to drink. Go in now: this is your Cue of Exit; and see all things there in a readiness.  Will. 
Nay, let the Master go first. Follow me, john. Exeunt Will. and Ralph.  Wid. 
What, husband? Ha' you given 'em any thing? Indeed, Love, you're too lavish.  Dog. 
'Twas very wittily put off o' me, howsoever.   

Act. 5. Scaen. 11.  Blade, Widow, Doggerel, Puny, Cutter, and Tabytha, with Fiddlers before 'um. Bla. 
How now? what ha' we here? another Puppet-play? Any thing now but brothers, and I'm for 'um. Who? Cutter? What's the matter, Poet? Come, what device is this? like one o' yours?  Cut. 
Stay at the door, ye sempiternal squeakers. Come, Queen o' fame.  Tab. 
Lord, I'm so weary with dancing as passes. Yonder's my mother. Oh mother! what d'ye think I ha' been doing to day?  Wid. 
Why what, child?  Tab. 
Nay nothing: I have only been married a little; and my husband and I ha' so danced it since!  Cut. 
Brave Tabytha still! Never be angry, Widow; you know where Marriages are made. How now, Captain? If I turn Tapster now, 'twill be happy for you: for I shall be rich enough to trust you, Captain.  Wid. 
'Twas God's will, I see, and therefore there's no resisting. But what d'ye mean, son? I hope you'll not turn swaggerer?  Cut. 
'Tis for special reasons, gentle mother. Why how now, Doggerel? M. Blade the Merchant looks as if he were broke: he has turned away his servant too.  Tab. 
Who's that? M. Doggerel i' these Player's clothes? Can M. Doggerel dance too, husband?  Bla. 
Prithee, Cutter, what hath exalted Tabytha thus?  Cut. 
What? this good fortune she has got by me: You know what a dull creature she was before; her soul was in her body, like butter in a hot cake; now she's as full of Spirits as Hell itself. My counsel and two cups o' Sack, have wrought this miracle.   

Act. 5. Scaen. 12.  To these, Truman Pater, Truman Filius, Lucia veiled. Tru. p. 
Well said! You are joined then now, my blessing on you both; come in to your father Blade. Nay, daughter Aurelia, off with your veil now. Ha! Whom ha' you married here?  Tru. f. 
I know not, Sir. She was Aurelia when we went to Church.  Bla. 
This is my daughter's maid. Where's the wench? Ho! Aurelia?   

Act. 5. Scaen. 13.  To them, Aurelia. Aur. 
Here, Sir.  Bla. 
Here, Sir? Why do you make your husband lead your maid in thus?  Aur. 
My husband, Sir? what's that?  Bla. 
Why, huswife is not Mr. Truman your husband?  Aur. 
No, by my troth, Sir, I thank God.  Tru. p. 
These are fine tricks; delicate, dainty tricks. Sirrah, how durst you Sirrah?— and for your minion— marry come up, marry a Chambermaid? Well, Captain, this was your plotting. You said indeed you'd make a jethron o' me: ye ha' done't indeed; I thank you, Captain Blade, 'tis well. Out o' my sight, Sir, with your minion there, I say out o' my sight. Ha! am I fooled thus? I shall make some repent it, I hold a groat on't.  Bla. 
D'ye hear, Mr. Truman—  Tru. p. 
Yes, Sir, I do hear; and I will not hear if it please me, Sir; but some body shall hear o' this Captain. But, Captain, you're deceived, this is not a lawful marriage.  Luc. 
Pray, hear me all; for I shall tell those things  
That will appease your wrath, and move your wonder.  
I've married Truman, and I will enjoy him,  
And he will love me, I am sure he will;  
For I am Lucia, the much injureed Lucia.  Omn. 
Ha!  Luc. 
The habit of a servant I put on,  
That I might find who 'twas I aught to pardon,  
For all the wrongs done to me. I have found it,  
Cousin, you know I have, and I forgive 'um.  Aur. 
Then all my plots are spoiled. Pardon me, Cousin:  
And, Mr. Truman, know you have a wife  
That is as pure and innocent as the thoughts  
Of dying Saints? 'Twas I that with the veil  
Deceived you in the Prison; it was I,  
Who in that veil contracted myself to Puny.  
Forgive me both; I do confess I've wronged you,  
But Heaven has seen you righted.  Tru. f. 
O this blessed hour!  
What shall I say? I know thou art all goodness,  
But canst thou pardon, Lucia, that great sin,  
That high and mighty sin which I have done  
In doubting of thy faith? I fear thou canst not.  Luc. 
I do desire no more than that I may,  
Deserve your better opinion, Sir, hereafter.  
And uncle for your poison—  Bla. 
Speak no more of it,  
I do confess it, Niece; and shall most willingly  
Surrender up the charge of your Estate.  
It hath pleased Heaven to restore me mine own  
By marriage with this Widow.  Tru. p. 
Ha, ha, ha! To see how things are come about! I thought Dick would not be such a fool as to marry one that he knew not. He knew her well enough, I'll warrant you. How do you, Captain? I was somewhat rash: I'm an old man, alas.  Bla. 
Cutter, and M. Doggerel, you that sneak there;  
You're precious witnesses. But no more o' that.  
You have been to blame, Aurelia. But 'tis past.  
We want your husband here: Where's Puny?  Pun. 
(I'll venture out amongst amongst.) Enter Puny. Nay ne'er laugh at me; I know I look like a door without hinges. A pox upon you, Doggerel; are you there?  Bla. 
What? my son john? d'ye know this Gentlewoman?  Aur. 
D'ye know this piece of gold, Sir, which you broke?  Pun. 
Hum? Yes i'faith, 'tis the same: thou art my Cynthia, wench, my Endymion: we'll be married presently. O for a witty Parson to marry us two Wits!  Dog. 
'Slife, one, two, three, i'faith four matches here at one time! What accursed fortune's this! there's three feasts lost: they'll dine all together.  Pun 
I will not kiss thee, my little magazine, till I have washed my face Ha, M. Doggerel, hast thou got no Spouse too?  Dog. 
The thrice three Sisters are my wives.  Pun. 
Well, because thou art a Poet, and my Jews-trump and I are Wits, thou shalt eat and drink at my pavilion always.  Aur. 
You shall ha' wine and serge. D'ye remember, Doggerel?  Dog. 
Thank you: but I'll ne'er lie for you again.  Bla. 
Come, let's all in to dinner.    

The Epilogue.  
THe Play is done, great Prince, which needs must fear,  
Though you brought all your father's mercies here,  
It may offend your Highness, and we've now  
Three hours done treason here, for aught we know.  
But power your Grace can above Nature give;  
It can give power to make abortives live.  
In which if our bold wishes should be crossed,  
'Tis but the life of one poor week that's lost.  
Though it should fall beneath your present scorn,  
It could not die sooner than it was born.  
FINIS.