ANY THING FOR A QUIET LIFE.  
A COMEDY, Formerly Acted at Blackfriars, by His late Majesty's Servants.  
Never before Printed.  
Written by Tho. Middleton, Gent.  
LONDON: Printed by Tho. Johnson for Francis Kirkman, and Henry Marsh, and are to be sold at the PRINCE's Arms in Chancery-Lane. 1662.   

Drammatis Personae.  
The Scene LONDON.  

LOrd Beaufort.  
Sir Francis Cressingham, an Alchemist.  
Old Franklin, a Country Gentleman.  
George Cressingham, son to Sir Francis.  
Franklin a Sea-Captain, son to old Franklin, and Companion to George Cressingham.  
Mr. Water Chamlet a Citizen  
Knavesbee a Lawyer, and Pander to his Wife.  
Selenger, Page to the Lord Beaufort.  
Saunder, Steward to Sir Francis.  
George and Ralph, two Prentices to Water Chamlet.  
A Surveyor.  
Sweetball, a Barber.  
barber's boy.  
Fleshhook and Counterbuff, a Sergeant and a Yeoman.  
Two Children of Sir Francis Cressingham's, nursed by Water Chamlet.  
Lady Cressingham, wife to Sir Francis.  
Rachel, wife to Water Chamlet.  
Sib, Knaves-bee's wife,  
Margarita, a French Bawd.    

PROLOGUE.  
howe'er th'intents and appetites of men  
Are different as their faces, how and when  
T'employ their actions, yet all without strife  
Meet in this point, Any thing for a Quiet Life.  
Nor is there one I think that's hither come  
For his delight, but would find Peace at home  
On any terms. The Lawyer does not cease  
To talk himself into a sweat with pain,  
And so his Fees buy Quiet, 'tis his gain:  
The poor man does endure the scorching Sun,  
And feels no weariness his day-labor done,  
So his Wife entertain him with a smile,  
And thank his travail, though she slept the while:  
This being in men of all conditions true,  
Does give our Play a Name; and if to you  
It yield Content, and usual Delight,  
For our parts we shall sleep secure tonight.   

Any thing for a Quiet Life.  

ACTUS I.  Enter the Lord Beaufort, and Sir Francis Cressingham. Beau. 
AWay, I am ashamed of your proceedings, and seriously you have in this one act overthrown the reputation the world held of your wisdom.  Cress. 
Why Sir?  Beau. 
Can you not see your error? that having buried so good a wife not a month since; one that, to speak the truth, had all those excellencies which our books have only feigned to make a complete Wife, most exactly in her in practice, and to marry a Girl of fifteen; one bred up i'th' Court, that by all consonancy of reason, is like to cross your estate: why, one new Gown of hers when 'tis paid for, will eat you out the keeping of a bountiful Christmas. I am ashamed of you, for you shall make too dear a proof of it, I fear; that in the election of a Wife, as in a project of War, to err but once, is to be undone for ever.  Cress. 
Good my Lord, I do beseech you let your better judgement go along with your reprehension.  Beau. 
So it does, and can find nought to extenuate your fault, but your dotage: you are a man well sunk in years, and to graft such a young blossom into your Stock, is the next way to make every carnal eye bespeak your injury. Troth I pity her too, she was not made to wither and go out by painted fires, that yields her no more heat, than to be lodged in some bleak Banqueting-house i'th' dead of Winter, and what follows then? your shame, and the ruin of your children, and there's the end of a rash bargain.  Cress. 
With your pardon, that she is young is true; but that Discretion has gone beyond her years. and overta'en those of maturer age, does more improve her goodness. I confess she was bred at Court, but so retiredly, that (as still the best in some place is to be learned there) so her life did rectify itself more by the Court Chapel, then by the Office of the Revels: best of all virtues are to be found at Court, and where you meet with writings contrary to this known truth, they are framed by men that never were so happy to be planted there to know it: for the difference between her youth and mine, if you will read a matron's sober staidness in her eye, and all the other grave demeanour fitting the Governess of a House, you'll then confess there's no disparity between us.  Beau. 
Come, come, you read Enter Mr. Water Chamlet what you would have her to be, not what she is. Oh Mr. Water Chamlet, you are welcome.  Cham. 
I thank your Lordship.  Beau. 
And what news stirring in Cheapside?  Cham. 
Nothing new there my Lord, but the Standard.  Beau. 
Oh that's a Monument your wives take great delight in; I do hear you are grown a mighty Purchaser, I hope shortly to find you a continual resident upon the North Isle of the Exchange.  Cham. 
Where? with the Scotchmen?  Beau. 
No Sir, with the Aldermen.  Cham. 
Believe it, I am a poor Commoner.  Cress. 
Come, you are warm, and blessed with a fair Wife.  Cham. 
There's it, her going brave, has the only virtue to improve my credit in the Subsidy-book.  Beau. 
But I pray, how thrives your New Plantation of Silkworms, those I saw last Summer at your garden?  Cham. 
They are removed sir.  Beau. 
Whether?  Cham. 
This winter my wife has removed them home to a fair Chamber, where divers Courtiers use to come and see them, and my wife carries them up; I think shortly, what with the store of Visitants, they'll prove as chargeable to me as the morrow after Simon and Jude, only excepting the taking down and setting up again of my Glass-windows.  Beau. 
That a man of your estate should be so gripple-minded, and repining at his wife's bounty!  Cress. 
There are no such ridiculous things i'th' world, as those love money better than themselves; for though they have understanding to know riches, and a mind to seek them, and a wit to find them, and policy to keep them, and long life to possess them; yet commonly they have withal such a false sight, such bleared-eyes, all their wealth when it lies before them, does seem poverty, and such a one are you.  Cham. 
Good sir Francis, you have had sore eyes too, you have been a Gamester, but you have given it o'er, and to redeem the vice belonged to't, now you entertain certain farcels of silenced Ministers, which I think will equally undo you; yet should these waste you but lenitively, your devising new Water-mill for recovery of drowned Land, and certain dreams you have in Alchemy to find the Philosophers-Stone, will certainly draw you toth' bottom: I speak freely sir, and would not have you angry, for I love you.  Cress. 
I am deeply in your Books for furnishing my late Wedding; have you brought a Note of the particulars?  Cham. 
No sir, at more leisure.  Cress. 
What comes the sum to?  Cham. 
For Tissue, Cloth of Gold, Velvets and Silks, about fifteen hundred pounds.  Cress. 
Your money is ready.  Cham. 
Sir, I thank you.  Cress. 
And how does my two young children, whom I have put to board with you?  Beau. 
Have you put forth two of your children already?  Cress. 
'twas my wife's discretion to have it so.  Beau. 
Come, 'tis the first principle in a Mother-in-law's chop-logic, to divide the Family, to remove from forth your sight the Object, that her cunning knows would dull her insinuation: had you been a kind father, it would have been your practice every day to have preached to these two young ones carefully, your late wife's Funeral Sermon. 'las poor souls, are they turned so soon a grazing?  Enter George Cressingham & Franklin. Cham. 
My Lord, they are placed where they shall be respected as mine own.  Beau. 
I make no question of it, good Mr. Chamlet. See here your eldest son, Frank Cressingham!  Cress. 
You have displeased and grieved your Mother in Law, and till you have made submission and procured her pardon, I'll not know you for my son.  George Cress. 
I have wrought her no offence sir, the difference grew about certain Jewels which my Mother (by your consent) lying upon her Deathbed, bequeathed to her three Children; these I demanded, and being denied these, thought this sin of hers to violate so gentle a Request of her Predecessor, was an ill foregoing of a Mother in Laws harsh nature.  Cress. 
Sir, understand my will moved in her denial: You have Jewels to pawn, or sell them! Sirrah, I will have you as obedient to this woman as to myself, till then you are none of mine.  Cham. 
Oh Mr. George, be ruled, do any thing for a quiet Life, your Father's peace of Life moves in it too. I have a Wife, when she is in the Sullens, like a cook's dog that you see turn a wheel, she will be sure to go and hide herself out of the way Dinner and Supper: and in these Fits Bowe-bell is a still Organ to her, when we were married first, I well remember, her railing did appear but a vision, till certain scratches on my hand and face, assured me it was substantial. She's a creature uses to way lay my faults, and more desires to find them out, then to have them amended: She has a Book, which I may truly nominate her Blackbook, for she remembers in it in short Items all my misdemeanours: As, Item such a day I was got foxed with foolish Metheglin, in the company of certain Welsh Chapmen. Item, such a day being at the Artillery-Garden, one of my neighbours in courtesy to salute me with his musket, set afire my Fustian and Apes Breeches. Such a day I lost fifty pound in hugger-mugger, at Dice at the Quest-house. Item I lent money to a Sea-Captain, on his bare Confound-him he would pay me again the next morning, and such like; for which she railed upon me when I should sleep, and that's, you know, intolerable; for indeed 'twill tame an Elephant.  George Cress. 
'tis a shrewd vexation, but your discretion sir, does bear it out with a month's sufferance.  Cham. 
Yes, and I would wish you to follow mine example.  Franklin. 
Here's small comfort George from your Father. Here's a Lord whom I have long depended upon for employment, I will see if my suit will thrive better. Please your Lordship, you know I am a younger brother, and my Fate throwing me upon the late ill-starred Voyage to Guiana; failing of our golden hopes, I and my Ship addressed ourselves to serve the Duke of Florence.  Beau. 
Yes, I understood so.  Franklin. 
Who gave me both Encouragement and Means, to do him some small service 'gainst the Turk; being settled there both in his Pay and Trust, your Lordship minding to rig forth a Ship to trade for the East-Indies, sent for me, and what your promise was, if I would leave so great a fortune to become your servant, your Letters yet can witness.  Beau. 
Yes, what follows?  Franklin. 
That for aught I perceive, your former purpose is quite forgotten; I have stayed here two months, and find your intended Voyage but a Dream, and the Ship you talk of as imaginary, as that the Astronomers point at in the clouds. I have spent two thousand Ducats since my arrival; men that have command, my Lord, at Sea, cannot live ashore without money.  Beau. 
Know sir, a late Purchase which cost me a great sum, has diverted me from my former purpose, besides Suits in Law do every Term so trouble me by Land, I have forgot going by Water. If you please to rank yourself among my followers, you shall be welcome, and I'll make your means better than any Gentleman's I keep.  Franklin. 
Some twenty Mark a year! will that maintain Scarlet and Goldlace, play at th' Ordinary, and Beavers at the Tavern?  Beau. 
I had thought to prefer you to have been Captain of a Ship that's bound for the Red-sea.  Frank. 
What hinders it?  Beau. 
Why certainly the Merchants are possessed you have been a pirate.  Frank. 
Say I were one still, if I were past the Line once, why methinks I should do them better service.  Enter Knavesbee. Beau. 
Pray forbear: here's a Gentleman whose business must engross me wholly.  George Cress. 
What's he, dost thou know him?  Frank. 
A pox upon him, a very knave and rascal, that goes a hunting with the penal Statutes; and good for nought but to persuade their Lords to rack their Rents, and give o'er Housekeeping; such Caterpillars may hang at their Lords ears, when better men are neglected.  George Cress. 
What's his name?  Frank. 
Knavesbee.  George Cress. 
Knavesbee!  Frank. 
One that deals in a tenth share about Projections: he and his partners when they have got a Suit once past the Seal, will so wrangle about partition, and sometimes they fall toth' ears about it, like your Fencers, that cudgel one another by Patent; you shall see him so terribly bedashed in a Michaelmas Term coming from Westminster, that you would swear he were lighted from a Horse-race: Hang him, hang him, he's a scurvy Informer, has more cozenage in him, then is in five travelling Lotteries. To feed a Kite with the carrion of this Knave when he's dead, and reclaim her, oh she would prove an excellent Hawk for talon: has a fair Creature to his Wife too, and a witty rogue it is, and some men think this knave will wink at small faults; but honest George, what shall become of us now?  George Cress. 
'Faith I am resolved to set up my rest for the Low-Countries.  Frank. 
To serve there?  G. Cress. 
Yes certain.  Frank. 
There's thin commons, besides they have added one day more toth' Week then was in the Creation; Art thou valiant? Art thou valiant, George?  Geo. Cress. 
I may be, and I be put too't.  Frank. 
O never fear that, thou canst not live two hours after thy Landing without a quarrel. Thou must resolve to fight, or like a Sumner, thou'lt be bastinadoed at every town's end. You shall have Gallants there as ragged as the Fall o'th' Leaf, that live in Holland, where the finest linen's made, and yet wear ne'er a Shirt: These will not only quarrel with a newcomer when they are drunk, but they will quarrel with any man has means to be drunk afore them: Follow my council, George, thou shalt not go o'er, we'll live here i'th' City.  Ceo. Cress. 
But how?  Frank. 
How? why, as other Gallants do that feed high, and play copiously, yet brag they have but nine pound a year to live on: these have wit to turn rich Fools and Gulls into Quarter-days, that bring them in certain payment. I have a Project reflects upon yon Mercer, Mr. Chamlet, shall put us into money.  George Cress. 
What is't?  Frank. 
Nay, I will not stale it aforehand, 'tis a new one: Nor cheating amongst Gallants may seem strange, Why a reaching Wit goes currant on th'Exchange.  Exeunt George Cressingham and Franklin. Knavesbee. 
O my Lord, I remember you and I were Students together at Cambridge; but believe me you went far beyond me.  Beau. 
When I studied there, I had so fantastical a brain, that like a Phelphare, frighted in winter by a Birding-piece, I could settle nowhere; here and there a little of every several Art, and away.  Knavesbee. 
Now my wit, though it were more dull, yet I went slowly on, and as divers others, when I could not prove an excellent Scholar by a plodding patience, I attained to be a Petty Lawyer; and I thank my dulness for't, you may stamp in Lead any figure, but in Oil or Quicksilver nothing can be imprinted, for they keep no certain station.  Beau. 
O, you tax me well of irresolution; but say worthy friend, how thrives my weighty Suit which I have trusted to your friendly bosom? is there any hope to make me happy?  Knavesbee. 
'tis yet questionable, for I have not broke the ice to her; an hour hence come to my house, and if it lie in man, be sure, as the Law Phrase says, I will create you Lord Paramount of your wishes.  Beau. 
O my best friend, and one that takes the hardest course i'th' world, to make himself so. Sir, now I'll take my leave.  Cress. 
Nay good my Lord, my Wife is coming down.  Enter Lady Cressingham and Saunder. Beau. 
Pray pardon me, I have business so importunes me o'th' sudden, I cannot stay; deliver mine excuse, and in your ear this. Let not a fair woman make you forget your children.  La. Cress. 
What? are you taking leave too?  Cham. 
Yes, good Madam.  La. Cress. 
The rich Stuff which my Husband bought of you, the works of them are too common: I have got a Dutch Painter to draw Patterns, which I'll have sent to your Factors; as in Italy, at Florence and Ragusa, where these Stuffs are woven, to have pieces made for mine own wearing of a new invention.  Cham. 
You may Lady, but 'twill be somewhat chargeable.  La. Cress. 
Chargeable! what of that? if I live another year, I'll have my Agents shall lie for me at Paris, and at Venice, and at Validolet in Spain, for intelligence of all new Fashions.  Cress. 
Do Sweetest, thou deserv'st to be exquisite in all things.  Cham. 
The two Children to which you are Mother in Law, would be repaired too, 'tis time they had new clothing.  La. Cress. 
I pray fir, do not trouble me with them; they have a Father indulgent and careful of them.  Cress. 
I am sorry you made the motion to her.  Cham. 
I have done: He has run himself  
Into a pretty dotage, Madam, with your leave;  
He's tied to a new Law, and a new Wife,  
Yet to my old Proverb, Any thing for a quiet Life.  Exit Chamlet. La. Cress. 
Good friend, I have a suit to you.  Cress. 
Dearest Self, you most powerfully sway me.  La. Cress. 
That you would give o'er this fruitless, if I may not say this idle, Study of Alchemy; why half your house looks like a Glass-house.  Saunder. 
And the smoke you make is a worse enemy to good Housekeeping, than Tobacco.  La. Cress. 
Should one of your glasses break, it might bring you to a Dead Palsy.  Saunder. 
My Lord, your Quicksilver has made all your more solid gold and silver fly in fume.  Cress. 
I'll be ruled by you in any thing.  La. Cress. 
Go Saunder, break all the Glasses.  Saunder. 
I fly to't.  Exit Saunder. La. Cress. 
Why noble friend, would you find the true Philosophers-stone indeed, my good Housewifry should do it. You understand I was bred up with a great Courtly Lady, do not think all women mind gay clothes and riot, there are some Widows living have improved both their own fortunes and their children's: would you take my counsel, I'd advise you to sell your Land.  Cress. 
My Land!  La. Cress. 
Yes, and the Manor House up n't, 'tis rotten: Oh the new fashioned Buildings brought from the Hague! 'tis stately. I have intelligence of a Purchase, and the Title sound, will for half the money you may sell yours for, bring you in more Rent than yours now yields you.  Cress. 
If it be so good a pennyworth, I need not sell my Land to purchase it, I'll procure money to do it.  La. Cress. 
Where sir?  Cress. 
Why, I'll take it up at Interest.  La Cress. 
Never did any man thrive that purchased with use-money.  Cress. 
How come you to know these thrifty Principles?  La. Cress. 
How? Why my Father was a Lawyer, and died in the Commission, and may not I by a natural instinct, have a reaching that way: there are on mine own knowledge some Divines daughters infinitely affected with reading Controversies, and that some think has been a means to bring so many Suits into the Spiritual Court. Pray be advised, sell your Land, and purchase more: I knew a Pedlar by being Merchant this way, is become Lord of many Manors: we should look to lengthen our Estates Ent. Saunder .as we do our Lives; and though I am young, yet I am confident your able constitution of body when you are past fourscore, shall keep you fresh till I arrive at the neglected year that I am past child-bearing, and yet ever there quickening our faint heats in a soft embrace, and kindling divine flames in fervent prayers, we may both go out together, and one Tomb quit our Executors the rites of two.  Cress. 
Oh you are so wise, and so good in every thing, I move by your direction.  Saunder. 
She has caught him!  Exeunt.  

ACTUS. II.  Enter Knavesbee and his Wife. Table. Kna. 
HAve you drunk the Eggs and Muskadine I sent you?  Wife. 
No, they are too fulsome.  Kna. 
Away, you're a fool, how shall I begin to break the matter to her? I do long, wife.  Wife. 
Long, sir!  Kna. 
Long infinitely. Sit down, there is a penitential motion in me, which if thou wilt but second, I shall be one of the happiest men in Europe.  Wife. 
What might that be?  Kna. 
I had last night one of the strangest Dreams; methought I was thy Confessor, thou mine, and we revealed between us privately how often we had wronged each other's Bed since we were married.  Wife. 
Came you drunk to bed? there was a Dream with a witness.  Kna. 
No, no witness; I dreamed nobody heard it but we two. This Dream wife, do I long to put in act, let us confess each other, and I vow whatever thou hast done with that sweet corpse in the way of natural frailty, I protest most freely I will pardon.  Wife. 
Go sleep again; was there ever such a motion?  Kna. 
Nay sweet woman, and thou wilt not have me run mad with my desire, be persuaded to't.  Wife. 
Well, be it your pleasure.  Kna. 
But to answer truly.  Wife. 
O most sincerely.  Kna. 
Begin then; examine me first.  Wife. 
Why, I know not what to ask you.  Kna. 
Let me see, your father was a Captain; Demand of me how many dead Pays I am to answer for in the Muster-book of Wedlock, by the martial fault of borrowing from my neighbours?  Wife. 
Troth I can ask no such foolish questions  Kna. 
Why then open Confession I hope dear wife, will merit freer pardon: I sinned twice with my Laundress, and last Circuit there was at Banbury a She-chamberlain that had a spice of purity, but at last I prevailed over her.  Wife. 
O, you are an ungracious husband.  Kna. 
I have made a vow never to ride abroad but in thy company; Oh a little drink makes me clamber like a Monkey: now sweet wife, you have been an outlier too, which is best feed in the Forest, or in the purlieus?  Wife. 
A foolish mind of you i' this.  Kna. 
Nay sweet Love, confess freely, I have given you the example.  Wife. 
Why you know I went last year to Sturbidge-Fair.  Kna. 
Yes.  Wife. 
And being in Cambridge, a handsome Scholar, one of Emanuel College, fell in love with me.  Kna. 
O you sweet-breathed Monkey.  Wife. 
Go hang, you are so boisterous.  Kna. 
But did this Scholar show thee his Chamber?  Wife. 
Yes.  Kna. 
And didst thou like him?  Wife. 
Like him! oh he had the most enticingst straw-coloured Beard, a woman with black eyes would have loved him like Jet: he was the finest man with a formal wit; and he had a fine dog that sure was whelped i'th' College, for he understood Latin.  Kna. 
Pue wawe, this is nothing, till I know what he did in's Chamber.  Wife. 
He burned Wormwood in't, to kill the Fleas i'th' Rushes.  Kna. 
But what did he to thee there?  Wife. 
Some five and twenty years hence I may chance tell you. Fie upon you, what tricks? what crotchets are these? have you placed anybody behind the Arras to hear my Confession? I heard one in England got a Divorce from's wife by such a trick; were I disposed now, I would make you as mad. You shall see me play the Changeling.  Kna. 
No, no wife, you shall see me play the Changeling: hadst thou confessed, this other Suit I'll now prefer to thee, would have been dispatched in a trice.  Wife. 
And what's that sir?  Kna. 
Thou wilt wonder at it four and twenty years longer than nine days.  Wife. 
I would very fain hear it.  Kna. 
There is a Lord o'th' Court, upon my credit a most dear, honourable Friend of mine, that must lie with thee. Do you laugh? 'tis not come to that, you'll laugh when you know who 'tis.  Wife. 
Are you stark mad?  Kna. 
On my Religion I have passed my word for't, 'tis the Lord Beaufort, thou art made happy for ever, the generous and bountiful Lord Beaufort: you being both so excellent, 'twere pity if such rare Pieces should not be conferred, and sampled together.  Wife. 
Do you mean seriously?  Kna. 
As I hope for preferment.  Wife. 
And can you lose me thus?  Kna. 
Lose you! I shall love you the better: why, what's the viewing any Wardrobe, or jewelhouse, without a companion to confer their likings? yet now I view thee well, methinks thou art a rare Monopoly, and great pity one man should enjoy thee.  Wife. 
This is pretty.  Kna. 
Let's divorce ourselves so long, or think I am gone to'th' Indies, or lie with him when I am asleep, for some Familists of Amsterdam will tell you may be done with a safe conscience: Come you wanton, what hurt can this do to you? I protest nothing so much as to keep company with an old woman has sore eyes: no more wrong than I do my Beaver when I try it thus. Look, this is all; smooth, and keeps fashion still.  Wife. 
You are one of the basest fellows.  Kna. 
I looked for chiding, I do make this a kind of fortitude the Romans never dreamed of, and 'twere known, I should be spoke and writ of when I am rotten, for 'tis beyond example.  Wife. 
But I pray resolve me: suppose this done, could you ever love me after?  Kna. 
I protest I never thought so well of thee, till I knew he took a fancy to thee; like one that has variety of choice meat before him, yet has no stomach to 't until he hear another praise: Hark, my Lord is coming.  knock within. Wife. 
Possible.  Kna. 
And my preferment comes along with him; be wise, mind your good, and to confute all reason in the world which thou canst urge against it when 'tis done, we will be married again wife, which some say is the only Supersedeas about Limehouse, to remove Cuckoldry.  Enter Beaufort. Beau. 
Come, are you ready to attend me to the Court?  Kna. 
Yes my Lord.  Beau. 
Is this fair one, your wife?  Kna. 
At your Lordship's service; I will look up some Writings, and return presently.  Exit Knavesbee. Wife. 
To see and the base fellow do not leave's alone too!  Beau. 
'tis an excellent habit this, where were you born, Sweet?  Wife. 
I am a Suffolk woman, my Lord.  Beau. 
Believe it, every Country you breathe on, is the sweeter for you: Let me see your hand. The Case is loath to part with the Jewel: Fairest one, I have skill in Palmistry.  Wife. 
Good my Lord, what do you find there?  Beau. 
In good earnest I do find written here, all my good fortune lies in your hand.  Wife. 
You'll keep a very bad House then, you may see by the smallness of the Table.  Beau. 
Who is your Sweetheart?  Wife. 
Sweetheart!  Beau. 
Yes, come, I must sift you to know it.  Wife. 
I am a Sieve too course for your Lordship's Manchet.  Beau. 
Nay, pray you tell me, for I see your husband is an unhandsome fellow.  Wife. 
Oh my Lord, I took him by weight, not fashion: Goldsmiths Wives taught me that way of bargain, and some Ladies swerve not to follow the example.  Beau. 
But will you not tell me who is your private friend?  Wife. 
Yes, and you'll tell me who is yours.  Beau. 
Shall I show you her?  Wife. 
Yes, when will you?  Beau. 
Instantly, look you there you may see her.  Wife. 
I'll break the glass, 'tis now worth nothing.  Beau. 
Why?  Wife. 
You have made it a flattering one.  Beau. 
I have a Summer-house for you; a fine place to flatter solitariness: will you come and lie there?  Wife. 
No my Lord.  Beau. 
Your husband has promised me: will you not?  Wife. 
I must wink I tell you, or say nothing.  Beau. 
So, I'll kiss you and wink too,  Ent. Knavesbee. 
Midnight is Cupid's Holiday.  Kna. 
By this time 'tis concluded: Will you go my Lord?  Beau. 
I leave with you my best wishes till I see you.  Kna. 
This now (if I may borrow our lawyer's phrase) is my wife's Imparlance, at her next appearance she must answer your Declaration.  Beau. 
You follow it well, sir.  Ex. Beaufort & Knavesbee Wife. 
Did I not know my Husband of so base contemptible nature, I should think 'twere but a trick to try me; but it seems they are both in wicked earnest; and methinks upon the sudden I have a great mind to loathe this scurvy unhandsome way my Lord has ta'en to compass me: why 'tis for all the world as if he should come to steal some Apricots my Husband kept for's own Tooth, and climb up upon his head and shoulders. I'll go to him, he will put me into brave Clothes, and rich Jewels; 'twere a very ill part in me not to go, his Mercer and his Goldsmith else might curse me; and what I'll do there, o' my troth yet I know not; Women though puzzled with these subtle deeds, May, as i'th' Spring, pick Physic out of weeds.  Exit Lady. Enter (a Shop being discovered) Walter Chamlet, his Wife Rachel, two Prentices, George and Ralph. George. 
What is't you lack, you lack, you lack?  
Stuffs for the Belly, or the Back?  
silk-grograms, Satins, Velvet fine,  
The Rosy-coloured Carnadine;  
Your Nutmeg hue, or Gingerline,  
Cloth of Tissue, or Tobine,  
That like beaten Gold will shine  
In your Amorous lady's eyen,  
Whilst you their softer Silks do twine: Enter Rachel.  
What is't you lack, you lack, you lack?  Rach. 
I do lack Content Sir, Content I lack: have you or your worshipful Master here, any Content to sell?  George. 
If Content be a Stuff to be sold by the Yard, you may have content at home, and never go abroad for't.  Rach. 
Do, cut me three yards, I'll pay for 'em.  George. 
There's all we have i'th' Shop; we must know what you'll give for 'em first.  Cham. 
Why Rachel, sweet Rachel, my bosom Rachel, how didst thou get forth? thou wert here sweet Rac. within this hour, even in my very heart.  Rach. 
Away, or stay still, I'll away from thee, one Bed shall never hold us both again, nor one roof cover us: didst thou bring home  George. 
What is't you lack, you lack, you lack?  Rach. 
Peace Bandog, Bandog, give me leave to speak, or I'll  George. 
Shall I not follow my Trade? I'm bound to't, and my Master bound to bring me up in't.  Cham. 
Peace, good George, give her anger leave, thy Mistress will be quiet presently.  Rach. 
Quiet! I defy thee and quiet too: Quiet thy Bastards thou hast brought home.  George & Ralph. 
What is't you lack, you lack? &c.  Rach. 
Death, give me an Ell, has one bawling Cur raised up another? two dogs upon me, and the old Bearward will not succour me, I'll stave 'em off myself: give me an Ell, I say.  George. 
Give her not an Inch, Master, she'll take two els if you do.  Cham. 
Peace George and Ralph, no more words I charge you; and Rachel, sweet Wife, be more temperate, I know your tongue speaks not by the rule and guidance of your heart, when you proclaim the pretty children of my virtuous and noble Kinswoman, whom in life you knew above my praises reach, to be my bastards; this is not well, although your Anger did it, pray chide your Anger for it.  Rach. 
Sir, sir, your gloss of Kinswoman cannot serve turn, 'tis stale, and smells too rank, though your shop wares you vent with your deceiving lights, yet your Chamber Stuff shall not pass so with me; I say, and I will prove.  George. 
What is't you lack?  Enter two children Cham. 
Why George, I say.  Rach. 
lecher I say, I'll be divorced from thee, I'll prove 'em thy bastards, and thou insufficient.  Exit Rachel. Mar. 
What said my angry Cousin to you sir? that we were bastards?  Ed. 
I hope she meant not us.  Cham. 
No, no, my pretty Cousins, she meant George and Ralph; rage will speak any thing, but they are ne'er the worse.  George. 
Yes indeed forsooth she spoke to us, but chiefly to Ralph, because she knows he has but one stone.  Ralph. 
No more of that if you love me, George, this is not the way to keep a quiet house.  Mar. 
Truly Sir, I would not for more treasure than ever I saw yet, be in your house a cause of discord.  Ed. 
And do you think I would, Sister?  Mar. 
No indeed, Ned.  Ent. Frank. & young Cress. disguised Ed. 
Why did you not speak for me with you then, and said we could not have done so?  Cham. 
No more sweet Cousins now: Speak George, Customers approach.  Young Cress. 
Is the Barber prepared?  Frank. 
With ignorance enough to go through with it, so near I am to him, we must call Cousins, would thou wert as sure to hit the tailor.  Young Cress. 
If I do not steal away handsomely, let me never play the tailor again.  George. 
What is't you lack? &c.  Frank. 
Good Satins sir.  George. 
The best in Europe, sir; here's a piece worth a Piece every yard of him, the King of Naples wears no better Silk; mark his gloss, he dazzles the eye to look upon him.  Frank. 
Is he not gummed?  George. 
Gummed! he has neither mouth nor tooth, how can he be gummed?  Frank. 
Very pretty.  Cham. 
An especial good piece of Silk, the Worm never spun a finer thread, believe it, sir.  Frank. 
Gascoyn, you have some skill in it.  Cham. 
Your tailor, sir?  Frank. 
Yes sir.  Young Cress. 
A good piece, sir; but let's see more choice.  Ralph. 
Taylor, drive thorough, you know your bribes.  Young Cress. 
Mum: he bestows forty pounds, if I say the word.  Ralph. 
Strike through, there's poundage for you then.  Frank. 
I marry! I like this better, what sayst thou, Gascoyn?  Young Cress. 
A good piece indeed, sir.  George. 
The Great Turk has worse Satin at's elbow, than this sir.  Frank. 
The price?  Cham. 
Look on the mark, George.  George. 
O. sauce and P, by my facks, sir.  Cham. 
The best sort then, sixteen a yard, nothing to be bated.  Frank. 
Fie sir, fifteen's too high, yet so, for how many yards will serve for my Suit, sirrah?  Young Cress. 
Nine yards, you can have no less, Sir Andrew.  Frank. 
But I can sir, if you please to steal less; I had but eight in my last Suit.  Young Cress. 
You pinch us too near in faith, Sir Andrew.  Frank. 
Yet can you pinch out a false pair of Sleeves to a Freezado Doublet.  George. 
No sir, some Purses and Pin-pillows perhaps: A tailor pays for his kissing that ways.  Frank. 
Well sir, eight yards, eight fifteens I give, and cut it.  Cham. 
I cannot truly, sir.  George. 
My Master must be no Subsidy-man sir, if he take such fifteens.  Frank. 
I am at highest sir, if you can take money.  Cham. 
Well sir, I'll give you the buying once, I hope to gain it in your custom: want you nothing else, sir?  Frank. 
Not at this time, sir.  Young Cress. 
Indeed but you do, Sir Andrew, I must needs deliver my Lady's Message to you, she enjoined me by Oath to do it, she commanded me to move you for a New Gown.  Frank. 
Sirrah, I'll break your head, if you motion it again.  Young Cress. 
I must endanger myself for my Lady, sir: you know she's to go to my Lady Trenchmore's Wedding, and to be seen there without a New Gown, she'll have ne'er an eye to be seen there, for her fingers in 'em: Nay by my fack, sir, I do not think she'll go, and then the cause known, what a discredit 't will be to you!  Frank. 
Not a word more, Goodman Snip-snapper for your ears: What comes this to, sir?  Cham. 
Six pound, sir.  Frank. 
There's your money: will you take this, and be gone, and about your business presently?  Young Cress. 
Troth Sir, I'll see some Stuffs for my Lady first, I'll tell her at least I did my good will; a fair piece of Cloth of Silver, pray you now.  George. 
Or Cloth of Gold if you please sir, as rich as ever the Sophy wore.  Frank. 
You are the arrantest villain of a tailor, that ever sat cross-legged: what do you think a Gown of this Stuff will come to?  Young Cress. 
Why say it be forty pound sir: what's that to you? three thousand a year I hope will maintain it.  Frank. 
It will sir, very good, you were best be my Overseer: say I be not furnished with money, how then?  Young Cress. 
A very fine excuse in you, which place of ten now will you send me for a hundred pound, to bring it presently?  Cham. 
Sir, sir, your tailor persuades you well, 'tis for your credit, and the great content of your Lady.  Frank. 
'tis for your content sir, and my charges: Never think Goodman False-stitch to come to the Mercers with me again; pray will you see if my Cousin Sweetball the Barber (he's nearest hand) be furnished, and bring me word instantly.  Young Cress. 
I fly, sir.  Exit Cress. Frank. 
You may fly sir, you have clipped somebody's wings for it to piece out your own; An arrant thief you are.  Cham. 
Indeed he speaks honestly and justly, sir.  Frank. 
You expect some gain sir, there's your cause of love.  Cham. 
Surely I do a little, sir.  Frank. 
And what might be the price of this?  Cham. 
This is thirty a yard; but if you'll go to forty, here's a Non pareile.  Frank. 
So, there's a matter of forty pound for a Gown Cloth.  Cham. 
Thereabouts, sir; why sir, there are far short of your means that wear the like.  Frank. 
Do you know my means, sir?  George. 
By overhearing your tailor, sir, three thousand a year: but if you'd have a Petticoat for your Lady, here's a stuff.  Frank. 
Are you another tailor, Sirrah? here's a knave, what are you?  George. 
You are such another Gentleman; but for the Stuff Sir, 'tis L. SS. and K; for the turn stripped a purpose, a yard and a quarter broad too, which is the just depth of a woman's Petticoat.  Frank. 
And why stripped for a Petticoat?  George. 
Because if they abuse their Petticoats, there are abuses stripped, then 'tis taking them up, and they may be stripped and whipped too.  Frank. 
Very ingenious.  George. 
Then it is likewise stripped standing, between which is discovered the open part, which is now called the Placket.  Frank. 
Why, was it ever called otherwise?  George. 
Yes: while the word remained pure in his original, the Latin tongue, who have no Ks, it was called the Placet, a Placendo, A thing, or place, to please.  Enter young Cressingham. Frank. 
Better and worse still: Now sir, you come in haste, what says my Cousin?  Young Cress. 
Protest sir, he's half angry, that either you should think him unfurnished, or not furnished for your use, there's a hundred pound ready for you; he desires you to pardon his coming, his folks are busy, and his wife trimming a Gentleman, but at your first approach the money wants but telling.  Frank. 
He would not trust you with it: I con him thanks, for that he knows what Trade you are of: well sir, pray cut him patterns, he may in the mean time know my lady's liking, let your man take the Pieces whole, with the lowest prices, and walk with me to my Cousins.  Cham. 
With all my heart, sir: Ralph, your Cloak, and go with the Gentleman, look you give good measure.  Young Cress. 
Look you carry a good yard with you.  Ralph. 
The best i'th' shop sir, yet we have none bad: you'll have the Stuff for the Petticoat too?  Frank. 
No sir, the Gown only.  Young Cress. 
By all means sir: Not the Petticoat? that were Holiday upon Working-day i'faith.  Frank. 
You are so forward for a knave, sir.  Young Cress. 
'Tis for your credit and my Ladies both, I do it sir.  Frank. 
Your man is trusty sir?  Cham. 
O sir, we keep none but those we dare trust sir. Ralph, have a care of light gold.  Ralph. 
I warrant you sir, I'll take none.  Frank. 
Come sirrah: Fare you well sir.  Cham. 
Pray know my shop another time, sir.  Frank. 
That I shall sir, from all the shops i'th' Town; 'tis the Lamb in Lombardstreet.  Exeunt Frank. Cress. Ralph. George. 
A good morning's work, sir; if this Custom would but last long, you might shut up your shop and live privately.  Cham. 
O George. But here's a grief that takes away all the gains and joy of all my thrift.  George. 
What's that, sir?  Cham. 
Thy Mistress, George: her frowardness sours all my comfort.  George. 
Alas sir, they are but Squibs and Crackers, they'll soon die; you know her flashes of old.  Cham. 
But they fly so near me, that they burn me; George they are as ill as muskets charged with Bullets.  George. 
She has discharged herself now sir, you need not fear her.  Cham. 
No man can love without his affliction, George.  George. 
As you cannot without my Mistress.  Cham. 
Right, right, there's harmony in Discords: this Lamp of Love while any Oil is left, can never be extinct, it may (like a snuff) wink and seem to die, but up he will again and show his head; I cannot be quiet George, without my wife at home.  George. 
And when she's at home, you're never quiet I'm sure, a fine life you have on't: well sir, I'll do my best to find her, and bring her back if I can.  Cham. 
Do honest George, at Knaves-bee's house, that Varlets, there's her haunt and harbour, who enforces a Kinsman on her, and calls him Cousin:  
Restore her George, to ease this heart that's vexed,  
The best new Suit that e'er thou wore'st is next.  George 
I thank you aforehand sir.  Exeunt. Enter Franklin, young Cress. as before, Ralph, Barber, Boy. Barb. 
Were it of greater moment than you speak of (noble Sir) I hope you think me sufficient, and it shall be effectually performed.  Frank. 
I could wish your wife did not know it, coz. Women's tongues are not always tuneable, I may many ways requite it.  Barb. 
Believe me, she shall not sir, which will be the hardest thing of all.  Frank. 
Pray you dispatch him then.  Barb. 
With the celerity a man tells Gold to him.  Frank. 
He hits a good comparison! give my Waste-good your Stuffs, and go with my Cousin sir, he'll presently dispatch you.  Ralph. 
Yes Sir.  Barb. 
Come with me youth, I am ready for you in my more private chamber.  Exeunt Barber & Ralph. Frank. 
Sirrah go you show your Lady the Stuffs, and let her choose her colour, away, you know whether: Boy, prithee lend me a Brush i'th' mean time: Do you tarry all day now.  Young Cress. 
That I will sir, and all night too, ere I come again.  Exit young Cressingham. Boy. 
Here's a Brush sir.  Frank. 
A good child.  Barber within. 
What Toby.  Boy. 
Anon sir.  Barber within. 
Why when, goodman Picklock?  Boy. 
I must attend my Master, sir: I come.  Exit boy. Frank. 
Do pretty Lad: so, take water at Coleharbour, An easy Mercer, and an innocent Barber.  Exit Franklin. Enter Barber, Ralph, Boy. Barb. 
So friend, I'll now dispatch you presently: Boy, reach me my dismembering Instrument, and let my Cauterize be ready; and hark you Snipsnap.  Boy. 
I Sir.  Barb. 
See if my Luxinium, my Fomentation be provided first, and get my Rulers, Bolsters, and Pleggets armed.  Ralph. 
Nay good sir dispatch my business first; I should not stay from my shop.  Barb. 
You must have a little patience sir, when you are a Patient; if Prepusium be not too much perished, you shall lose but little by it, believe my Art for that.  Ralph. 
What's that sir?  Barb. 
Marry if there be exulceration between Prepusium and glance, by my faith the whole Penis may be endangered as far as Os pubes.  Ralph. 
What's this you talk on, sir?  Barb. 
If they be gangrened once, Testiculi, Vesica, and all may run to mortification.  Ralph. 
What a pox does this Barber talk on?  Barb. 
O fie youth, Pox is no word of Art, Morbus Gallicus, or Neopolitanus had been well: Come friend, you must not be nice; open your griefs freely to me.  Ralph. 
Why sir, I open my grief to you, I want my money.  Barb. 
Take you no care for that, your worthy Cousin has given me part in hand, and the rest I know he will upon your recovery, and I dare take his word.  Ralph. 
's Death, where's my Ware?  Barb. 
Ware! that was well, the word is cleanly, though not artful; your Ware it is that I must see.  Ralph. 
My Tobine, and Cloth of Tissue?  Barb. 
You will neither have Tissue nor Issue, if you linger in your malady: better a Member cut off, then endanger the whole Microcosm.  Ralph. 
Barber, you are not mad?  Barb. 
I do begin to fear you are subject to Subeth, unkindly sleeps, which have bred oppilations in your brain; take heed, the symptoma will follow, and this may come to Frenzy: begin with the first cause, which is the pain of your Member.  Ralph. 
Do you see my Yard, Barber?  Barb. 
Now you come to the purpose, 'tis that I must see indeed.  Ralph. 
You shall feel it sir: Death, give me my fifty pounds, or my Ware again, or I'll measure out your Anatomy by the yard.  Barb. 
Boy, my Cauterizing-Iron red hot.  Exit boy. Boy. 
'Tis here, sir.  Barb. 
If you go further, I take my dismembering Knife.  Ralph. 
Where's the Knight your Cousin? the Thief, and the tailor with my Cloth of Gold and Tissue?  Boy. 
The Gentleman that sent away his man with the Stuffs, is gone a pretty while since, he has carried away our new Brush.  Barb. 
O that Brush hurts my heart's side: Cheated! cheated! he told me that your Virga had a Burning-fever.  Ralph. 
Pox on your Virga, Barber.  Barb. 
And that you would be bashful, and ashamed to show your head.  Ralph. 
I shall so hereafter, but here it is, you see yet my head, my hair, and my wit, and here are my heels that I must show to my Master, if the Cheaters be not found; and Barber, provide thee Plasters, I will break thy head with every Basin under the Pole.  Exit Ralph. Barb. 
Cool the Luxinium, and quench the Cauterizer,  
I am partly out of my wits, and partly mad:  
My Razor's at my heart: these storms will make  
My Sweet-balls stink, my harmless basins shake.  Exeunt.  

ACTUS III.  Enter Selenger, Mris. Knavesbee. Sel. 
YOu're welcome Mistress (as I may speak it) but my Lord will give it a sweeter Emphasis: I'll give him knowledge of you.  Exiturus. Mris. Knavesb. 
Good sir stay, methinks it sounds sweetest upon your tongue, I'll wish you to go no further for my welcome.  Sel. 
Mine! it seems you never heard good Music, that commend a Bagpipe: hear his harmony.  Mris. Kna. 
Nay good now, let me borrow of your patience, I'll pay you again before I rise tomorrow, if it please you.  Sel. 
What would you forsooth?  Mris. Kna. 
Your company sir.  Sel. 
My attendance you should have Mistress, but that my Lord expects it, and 'tis his due.  Mrs. Kna. 
And must be paid upon the hour! that's too strict, any time of the day will serve.  Sel. 
Alas 'tis due every minute, and paid, 'tis due again, or else I forfeit my recognizance, the Cloth I wear of his.  Mrs. Kna. 
Come, come, pay it double at another time, and 'twill be quitted, I have a little use of you.  Sel. 
Of me, forsooth, small use can be made of me: if you have suit to my Lord, none can speak-better for you than you may yourself.  Mrs. Kna. 
Oh, but I am bashful.  Sel. 
So am I in troth, Mistress.  Mrs. Kna. 
Now I remember me, I have a toy to deliver your Lord that's yet unfinished, and you may further me, pray you your hands, while I unwind this skein of Gold from you, 'twill not detain you long.  Sel. 
You wind me into your service prettily; with all the haste you can, I beseech you.  Mrs. Kna. 
If it tangle not, I shall soon have done.  Sel. 
No, it shall not tangle if I can help it, forsooth.  Mrs. Kna. 
If it do I can help it, fear not, this thing of long length you shall see I can bring you to a bottom.  Sel. 
I think so too, if it be not bottomless, this length will reach it  Mrs. Kna. 
It becomes you finely, but I forewarn you, and remember it your enemy gain not this advantage of you, you are his prisoner then; for look you, you are mine now, my captive manacled, I have your hands in bondage.  grasps the skein between his hands. Sel. 
'Tis a good Lesson, Mistress, and I am perfect in it, another time I'll take out this, and learn another, pray you release me now.  Mrs. Kna. 
I could kiss you now spite of your teeth, if it please me.  Sel. 
But you could not, for I could bite you with the spite of my teeth, if it pleases me.  Mrs. Kna. 
Well, I'll not tempt you so far, I show it but for rudiment.  Sel. 
When I go a-wooing, I'll think on't again.  Mrs. Kna. 
In such an hour I learned it, say I should (in recompense of your hands courtesy) make you a fine wrist-favour of this Gold, with all the letters of your Name embossed on a soft Tress of Hair, which I shall cut from mine own Fillet, whose ends should meet and close in a fast True-love-knot, would you wear it for my sake, sir?  Sel. 
I think not, truly Mistress, my Wrists have enough of this Gold already, would they were rid on't yet: pray you have done, in troth I'm weary.  Mrs. Kna. 
And what a virtue is here expressed in you, which had lain hid but for this trial; weary of Gold, sir! Oh that the close Engrossers of this Treasure could be so free to put it off of hand, what a new mended world would here be! It shows a generous condition in you, in sooth I think I shall love you dearly for't.  Sel. 
But if they were in prison, as I am, they would be glad to buy their freedom with it.  Mrs. Kna. 
Surely no, there are that rather than release this dear companion, do lie in prison with it, yes, and will die in prison too.  Enter Beaufort. Sel. 
'Twere pity but the hangman did enfranchise both.  Beau. 
Selenger, where are you?  Sel. 
e'en here, my Lord. Mistress, pray you my liberty, you hinder my duty to my Lord.  Beau. 
Nay sir, one courtesy shall serve us both at this time; you're busy I perceive, when your leisure next serves you I would employ you.  Beaufort puts off his Hat. Sel. 
You must pardon me, my Lord, you see I am entangled here: Mistress I protest I'll break prison, if you free me not, take you no notice?  Mrs. Kna. 
Oh cry your Honour mercy, you are now at liberty, sir.  Sel. 
And I'm glad on't, I'll ne'er give both my hands at once again to a woman's command, I'll put one finger in a hole rather.  Beau. 
Leave us.  Sel. 
Free leave have you, my Lord, so I think you may have: filthy Beauty, what a white witch thou art!  Exit Selenger. Beau. 
Lady, you're welcome.  Mrs. Kna. 
I did believe it from your Page, my Lord. Beau. Your husband sent you to me.  Mrs. Kna. 
He did my Lord, with duty and commends unto your Honour, beseeching you to use me very kindly, by the same token your Lordship gave him grant of a New Lease of Threescore pounds a year, which he and his should forty years enjoy.  Beau. 
The token's true, and for your sake Lady, 'tis likely to be bettered, not alone the Lease, but the Fee-simple may be his and yours.  Mrs. Kna. 
I have a suit unto your Lordship too, only myself concerns.  Beau. 
'T will be granted sure, tho' it outvalue thy husbands.  Mrs. Kna. 
Nay, 'tis small charge, only your good will, and good word, my Lord.  Beau. 
The first is thine confirmed, the second then cannot stay long behind.  Mrs. Kna. 
I love your Page, sir.  Beau. 
Love him! for what?  Mrs. Kna. 
Oh, the great wisdoms that our Grandsires had! do you ask me reason for't? I love him, because I like him, sir.  Beau. 
My Page!  Mrs. Kna. 
In mine eye, he's a most delicate youth, but in my heart a thing that it would bleed for.  Beau. 
Either your eye is blinded, or your remembrance broken: call to mind wherefore you came hither, Lady.  Mrs. Kna. 
I do my Lord, for love, and I am in profoundly.  Beau 
You trifle sure, do you long for unripe fruit? 'twill breed diseases in you.  Mrs. Kna. 
Nothing but worms in my belly, and there's a Seed to expel them; in mellow falling fruit I find no relish.  Beau. 
'Tis true, the youngest Vines yields the most Clusters, but the old ever the sweetest Grapes.  Mrs. Kna. 
I can taste of both sir; but with the old I am the soonest cloyed: the green keep still an edge on appetite.  Beau. 
Sure you are a common creature.  Mrs. Kna. 
Did you doubt it, wherefore came I hither else? Did you think that honesty only had been immured for you, and I should bring it as an Offertory unto your shrine of Lust? As it was, my Lord, 'twas meant to you, had not the slippery Wheel of Fancy turned when I beheld your Page; nay had I seen another before him in mine eyes better grace, he had been forstalled; but as it is, (all my strength cannot help) beseech you your good will, and good word, my Lord, you may command him, sir; if not affection, yet his body, and I desire but that, do't, and I'll command myself your prostitute.  Beau. 
You're a base strumpet, I succeed my Page!  Mrs. Kna. 
Oh that's no wonder, my Lord, the servant oft tastes to his Master of the daintiest Dish he brings to him; beseech you, my Lord.  Beau. 
You're a bold Mischief, and to make me your Spokesman; your procurer to my Servant.  Mrs. Kna. 
Do you shrink at that? why, you have done worse without the sense of ill, with a full free conscience of a Libertine: Judge your own sin, was it not worse with a damned Broking-fee to a corrupt Husband, state him a Pander to his own wife, by virtue of a Lease made to him and your Bastard issue, could you get 'em: what a degree of baseness call you this? 'Tis a poor Sheep-steal provoked by want, compared unto a Capital Traitor; the Master to his servant may be recompensed, but the husband to his wife never.  Beau. 
Your husband shall smart for this.  Exit Beaufort. Mrs. Kna. 
Hang him, do, you have brought him to deserve it, bring him to the punishment, there I'll join with you: I loathe him to the Gallows, hang your Page too, one Mourning-Gown shall serve for both of them: This trick hath kept mine honesty secure, best Soldiers use policy, the lion's skin Becomes not the body when 'tis too great, But then the Foxes may sit close, and neat.  Exit. Enter Fleshhook, Counterbuff, and Sweetball the Barber. Barb. 
Now Fleshhook, use thy talon, set upon his right shoulder; thy Sergeant Counterbuff at the left, grasp in his Jugulars, and then let me alone to tickle his Diaphragma.  Flesh. 
You are sure he has no protection, sir?  Barb. 
A protection to cheat and cozen! there was never any granted to that purpose.  Flesh. 
I grant you that too, sir, but that use has been made of 'em.  Counterb. 
Marry has there sir, how could else so many broken Bankrupts play up and down by their Creditors noses, and we dare not touch 'em?  Barb. 
That's another Case, Counter buff, there's privilege to cozen; but here cozenage went before, and there's no privilege for that; to him boldly, I will spend all the Scissors in my shop, but I'll have him snapped.  Counterb. 
Well sir, if he come within the length of large Mace once, we'll teach him to cozen.  Barb. 
Marry hang him, teach him no more cozenage, he's too perfect in't already; go gingerly about it, lay your Mace on gingerly, and spice him soundly.  Counterb. 
He's at the Tavern, you say?  Barb. 
At the Man in the Moon, above stairs, so soon as he comes down, and the Bush left at his back, Ralph is the dog behind him: he watches to give us notice, be ready than my dear Bloodhounds, you shall deliver him to Newgate, from thence to the Hangman; his body I will beg of the Sheriffs, for at the next Lecture I am likely to be the Master of my Anatomy, then will I vex every vein about him, I will find where his Disease of Cozenage lay, whether in the Vertebrae, or in Oscox-Index, but I guess I shall find it descend from Humour, through the Thoric, and lie just at his finger's ends.  Enter Ralph. Ralph. 
Be in readiness, for he's coming this way, alone too; stand to't like Gentleman and Yeoman, so soon as he is in sight, I'll go fetch my Master.  Barb. 
I have had a Conquassition in my Cerebrum ever since the disaster, and now it takes me again, if it turn to a megrim, I shall hardly abide the sight of him.  Ralph. 
My Action of Defamation shall be clapped on him too, I will make him appear to't in the shape of a white Sheet all embroidered over with Peccavi's: look about, I'll go fetch my Master.  Enter Franklin. Counterb. 
I Arrest you, sir.  Frank. 
Ha qui va la, que penses vous faire Messieurs, me voles vous derober, je nay point d'argent: Je suis un powre Gentilhomme Francois.  Barb. 
Whoop! pray you sir speak English you did when you bought Cloth of Gold at six Nihils a yard, when Ralph's Preputium was exulcerated.  Frank. 
Que voules vous, me voules vous tuer; Le Francois ne sont point enemis: voila ma bource, que voles vous d'avantage.  Counterb. 
Is not your name Franklin, sir?  Frank. 
Je na'y point de Joiaux que cestui ci; et cest a Monsieur L'ambasadeur, il m'en voie a ces afaires et vous enpaiches mon service.  Enter Chamlet and Ralph hastily. Counterb. 
Sir, we are mistaken for aught I perceive.  Cham. 
So, so, you have caught him, that's well: how do you sir?  Frank. 
Vous sembles estre un homme courtois, Je vous prie entendes mes affairs: il y a ici deux ou erois Quenailles qui m'ont asseige un powre estranger, qui ne leur ay fait nul mal, ny donner mawaisse parrolle, ny tirer mon espet; l'un me prend par une espaule, et me frape deux Liure peisant; L'autre me tire par le bras, il par le je ne scay quoy: Je leur ay donne ma bource, et si ne me veuleut point Laiser aller; que feray je Monsieur?  Cham. 
This is a Frenchman it seems, sirs.  Counterb. 
We can find no other in him, sir, and what that is we know not.  Cham. 
He's very like the man we seek for, else my lights go false.  Barb. 
In your shop they may sir, but here they go true: this is he.  Ralph. 
The very same sir, as sure as I am Ralph, this is the Rascal.  Counterb. 
Sir, unless you will absolutely challenge him the man, we dare not proceed further.  Enter Margarita a French Bawd. Flesh. 
I fear we are too far already.  Cham. 
I know not what to say to't.  Marga. 
Bon iour, bon iour, Gentilhommes.  Barb. 
How now! more News from France?  Frank. 
Ceste femme ici est de mon pais, Madame je vous prie Leur dire mon pais, il mont retarge Je ne scay pour quoy.  Marga. 
Estes vous de France Monsieur?  Frank. 
madam vay est, que je les ay trumps, et suis areste, et n'ay nul moien de chaper quan chansant mon Language: aides moy en cest affaire: Je vous cognois bien, ou vous tenes un Bordeau; vous et les vostre en seres de mieulx.  Marga. 
Laises fair a moy; Este vous de Lion dites vous.  Frank. 
De Lion, ma cheer Dam.  Marga. 
Ma cousin! Je suis bien aise de vous voire en bonne disposition?  Embrace and compliment. Frank. 
Man cousin!  Cham. 
This is a Frenchman sure.  Barb. 
If he be, 'tis the likest an Englishman that ever I saw, all his dimensions, proportions! had I but the dissecting of his heart, in capsula cordis, could I find it now; for a Frenchman's heart is more quassitive and subject to tremor, than an Englishman's.  Cham. 
Stay, we'll further inquire of this Gentlewoman. Mistress, if you have so much English to help us with (as I think you have, for I have long seen you about London) pray tell us, and truly tell us, Is this Gentleman a natural Frenchman, or no?  Marga. 
Ey begar, de Frenchman, borne a Lion, my cousin.  Cham. 
Your Cousin? if he be not your Cousin, he's my Cousin, sure.  Marga. 
Ey konoshe his Peer, what you call his Fadre? he sell Poisons.  Barb. 
Sell poisons, his father was a apothecary then.  Marg. 
No, no, Poisons, what you call, Fish, fish?  Barb. 
Oh, he was a Fishmonger.  Marga. 
Ouy, ouy.  Cham. 
Well, well, we are mistaken I see, pray you so tell him, and request him not to be offended; an honest man may look like a knave, and be ne'er the worse for't, the error was in our eyes, and now we find it in his tongue.  Marga. 
Je saieray encore une fois Monsieur cousin, pour vostre sauuete, ales vous en; vostre Liberte est sufisant: Je gaineray le reste pour mon devoir, et vous aures vostre part a mon Escole: J'ay une fillie qui parle un peu Francois, elle conversera avec vous a la Fleur de Lice en Turnbull-street: Mon Cozin aies soin de vous mesme, et trompes ces Ignorans.  Frank. 
cousin pour L'amour de vous, et principallement pour moy, je suis content de m'en aller, Je troweray vostre Escole, et si voz Escoliers me sont agreeable, je tireray a L'espe 'seule, et si d'aventure je le rompe, Je paiera diz souls et pour ce vieulx Foll, ee ce deux Quenailles, ce Poullens Snip snap, et L'autre bonnet rond, Je les voiray pendre premier que je les voie.  Ex. Frank. Cham. 
So, so, she has got him off; but I perceive much anger in his countenance still: and what says he, Madam?  Marga. 
Moosh, moosh anger, but ey conosh here Lodging, shall cool him very well, Dear is a kiswoman's can moosh allay here heat and here spleen, she shall do for my saka, and he no trobla you.  Cham. 
Look, there is earnest, but thy reward's behind: Come to my shop, the Holy Lamb in Lombardstreet, thou hast one friend more than e'er thou hadst.  Marga. 
Tanck u Monsieur, shall visit u: ey make all pacify: a vostre service treshumbement, tree, four, five fool of you.  Ex. Marg. Cham. 
What's to be done now?  Counterb. 
To pay us for our pains sir, and better reward us, that we may be provided against further danger that may come upon's for false imprisonment.  Cham. 
All goes false I think: what do you neighbour Sweetball?  Barb. 
I must Phlebotomize sir, but my Almanac says the Sign is in Taurus; I dare not cut my own throat, but if I find any precedent that ever Barber hanged himself, I'll be the second example.  Ralph. 
This was your ill Luxinium, Barber, to cause all to be cheated.  Counterb. 
What say you to us, sir?  Cham. 
Good friends, come to me at a calmer hour, my sorrows lie in heaps upon me now; what you have, keep, if further trouble follow I'll take it on me; I would be pressed to death.  Counterb. 
Well sir, for this time we'll leave you.  Barb. 
I will go with you, Officers, I will walk with you in the open street though it be a scandal to me; for now I have no care of my credit, a Cacokenny is run all over me.  Exeunt. Cham. 
What shall we do now, Ralph?  Enter George. Ralph. 
Faith I know not, sir: here comes George, it may be he can tell you.  Cham. 
And there I look for more disaster still, yet George appears in a smiling countenance. Ralph, home to the shop, leave George and I together.  Ralph. 
I am gone, sir.  Exit Ralph. Cham. 
Now George, what better News Eastward? all goes ill tother way.  George. 
I bring you the best news that ever came about your ears in your life, sir.  Cham. 
Thou putst me in good comfort, George.  George. 
My Mistress, your wife, will never trouble you more.  Cham. 
Ha? never trouble me more: of this, George, may be made a sad construction, that phrase we sometimes use when death makes the separation, I hope it is not so with her, George?  George. 
No sir, but she vows she'll never come home again to you, so you shall live quietly, and this I took to be very good news, sir.  Cham. 
The worst that could be this, candid poison; I love her, George, and I am bound to do so, the tongue's bitterness must not separate the united souls: 'twere base and cowardly for all to yield to the small tongue's assault: the whole building must not be taken down, for the repairing of a broken window.  George. 
ay but this is a Principal, sir: the truth is, she will be divorced, she says, and is labouring with her Cousin Knave (what do you call him?) I have forgotten the latter end of his name.  Cham. 
Knavesbee, George.  George. 
I Knave, or Knavesbee, one I took it to be.  Cham. 
Why neither rage, nor envy, can make a cause, George.  George. 
Yes sir, not only at your person, but she shoots at your shop too, she says you vent Ware that is not warrantable, braided Ware, and that you give not London measure: women you know look for more than a bare yard: and than you keep children in the name of your own, which she suspects came not in at the right door  Cham. 
She may as well suspect immaculate Truth to be cursed Falsehood.  George. 
ay but if she will, she will, she's a woman sir.  Cham. 
'Tis most true, George: well, that shall be redressed, my Cousin Cressingham must yield me pardon, the children shall home again, and thou shalt conduct 'em, George.  George. 
That done, I'll be bold to venture once more for her recovery, since you cannot live at liberty; but because you are a rich Citizen, you will have your Chain about your neck; I think I have a device will bring you together byth' years again, and then look to 'em as well as you can.  Cham. 
Oh George, amongst all my heavy Troubles, this is the groaning weight; but restore my Wife.  George. 
Although you ne'er lead hour of quiet life.  Cham. 
I will endeavour't George, I'll lend her Will A power and rule to keep all hushed and still; Eat we all Sweetmeats we are soonest rotten.  George. 
A Sentence! pity 't should have been forgotten. Exeunt.   

ACTUS IV.  Enter Sir Francis Cressingham, and a Surveyor. Sur. 
WHere's Mr. Steward?  Cress. 
Within: what are you, sir?  Sur. 
A Surveyor, sir.  Cress. 
And an Almanac-maker, I take it: Can you tell me what foul weather is toward?  Sur. 
Marry the foulest weather is, that your Land is flying away.  Exit Surveyor. Cress. 
A most terrible prognostication! All the resort, all the business to my house is to my Lady and Mr. Steward; whilst Sir Francis stands for a cipher: I have made away myself and my power, as if I had done it by Deed of Gift: here comes the controller of the Game.  Enter Saunder. Saunder. 
What, are you yet resolved to translate this unnecessary Land into ready money?  Cress. 
Translate it?  Saun. 
The Conveyances are drawn, and the money ready: my Lady sent me to you, to know directly if you meant to go through in the Sale; if not, she resolves of another course.  Cress. 
Thou speakest this cheerfully methinks, whereas faithful servants were wont to mourn when they beheld the Lord that fed and cherished them, is by cursed enchantment removed into another blood. Cressingham of Cressingham has continued many years, and must the Name sink now?  Saun. 
All this is nothing to my Lady's resolution, it must be done, or she'll not stay in England: she would know whether your son be sent for, that must likewise set his hand t'th' 'Sale; for otherwise the Lawyers say there cannot be a sure Conveyance made to the Buyer.  Cress. 
Yes, I have sent for him: but I pray thee think what a hard task 't will be for a Father to persuade his son and heir to make away his inheritance.  Saun. 
Nay for that, use your own Logic: I have heard you talk at the Sessions terribly against Deer-stealers, and that kept you from being put out of the Commission.  Exit Saunder. Enter young Cressingham. Cress. 
I do live to see two miseries, one to be commanded by my Wife, the other to be censured by my slave.  Young Cress. 
That which I have wanted long, and has been cause of my irregular courses, I beseech you let raise me from the ground  Cress. 
Rise George, there's a hundred pounds for you, and my Blessing, with these, your mother's favour: but I hear your studies are become too licentious of late.  Young Cress. 
H'as heard of my cozenage.  Cress. 
What's that you are writing?  Young Cress. 
Sir, not any thing.  Cress. 
Come, I hear there's something coming forth of yours, will be your undoing.  Young Cress. 
Of mine?  Cress. 
Yes of your writing; somewhat you should write, will be dangerous to you. I have a suit to you.  Young Cress. 
Sir, my obedience makes you commander in all things.  Cress. 
I pray suppose I had committed some fault, for which my Life and sole Estate were forfeit to the Law, and that some great Man near the King should labour to get my pardon, on condition he might enjoy my Lordship, could you prize your Father's Life above the grievous loss of your inheritance?  Young Cress. 
Yes, and my own Life at stake too.  Cress. 
You promise fair, I come now to make trial of it: You know I have married one whom I hold so dear, that my whole life is nothing but a mere estate depending upon her will, and her affections to me: she deserves so well, I cannot longer merit then durante bene placita, 'tis her pleasure, and (her wisdom moves in't too) of which I'll give you ample satisfaction hereafter, that I sell the Land my Father left me: You change colour! I have promised her to do't, and should I fail, I must expect the remainder of my life as full of trouble and vexation, as the Suit for a Divorce; it lies in you by setting of your hand unto the Sale, to add length to his life that gave you yours.  Young Cress. 
Sir, I do now ingeniously perceive why you said lately, somewhat I should write would be my undoing, meaning (as I take it) setting my hand to this Assurance: Oh good Sir, shall I pass away my Birthright? Oh remember there is a malediction denounced against it in Holy Writ: will you for her pleasure, the Inheritance of Desolation leave to your posterity? think how compassionate the creatures of the field that only live on the wild benefits of Nature, are unto their young ones; think likewise you may have more children by this woman, and by this act you undo them too: 'tis a strange precedent this, to see an obedient son labouring good counsel to the father! But know Sir, that the spirits of my Great-Grandfather and your Father moves at this present in me, and what they bequeathed you, on your Deathbed they charge you not to give away in the dalliance of a woman's bed: Good Sir, let it not be thought presumption in me, that I have continued my speech unto this length, the cause sir, is urgent, and believe it you shall find her Beauty as malevolent unto you, as a red morning that doth still foretell a foul day to follow: Oh Sir, keep your Land, keep that to keep your Name immortal, and you shall see All that her Malice and proud Will procures,  
Shall show her ugly heart, but hurt not yours.  Cress. 
Oh I am distracted, and my very soul sends blushes into my cheeks.  Enter George with the two Children. Young Cress. 
See here an Object to beget more compassion.  George. 
O Sir Francis, we have a most lamentable house at home, nothing to be heard in't but Separation and Divorces, and such a noise of the Spiritual Court, as if it were a Tenement upon London-Bridge, and built upon the Arches.  Cress. 
What's the matter?  George. 
All about Boarding your children, my Mistress is departed. Cress. Dead?  George. 
In a sort she is, and laid out too, for she is run away from my Master.  Cress. 
Whither?  George. 
Seven miles off, into Essex, she vowed never to leave Barking while she lived, till these were brought home again.  Cress. 
Oh they shall not offend her. I am sorry for't.  1 Child. 
I am glad we are come home sir, for we lived in the unquietest house!  2 Child. 
The angry woman methought grudged us our victuals: our new Mother is a good Soul, and loves us, and does not frown so like a Vixen as she does.  1 Child. 
I am at home now, and in heaven methinks: what a comfort 'tis to be under your wing!  2 Child. 
Indeed my mother was wont to call me your Nestlecock, and I love you as well as she did.  Enter Saunder, Knavesbee, and Surveyor. Cress. 
You are my pretty souls.  Young Cress. 
Does not the prattle of these move you?  Saun. 
Look you Sir, here's the Conveyance and my Lady's Solicitor, pray resolve what to do, my Lady is coming down. How now George, how does thy Mistress that sits in a Wainscot Gown, like a citizen's Lure to draw in Customers? oh she's a pretty mousetrap!  George. 
She's ill baited though to take a Welshman, she cannot away with Cheese.  Cress. 
And what must I do now?  Kna. 
Acknowledge a Fine and Recovery of the Land, then for possession the course is common.  Cress. 
Carry back the Writings sir, my mind is changed.  Saun. 
Changed! do not you mean to seal?  Enter Lady Cressingham. Cress. 
No Sir, the Tide's turned.  Saun. 
You must temper him like wax, or he'll not seal.  Lady. 
Are you come back again? How now, have you done?  1 Child. 
How do you, Lady Mother?  Lady. 
You are good children; bid my woman give them some Sweetmeats.  1 Child. 
Indeed I thank you: Is not this a kind Mother?  Young Cress. 
Poor fools, you know not how dear you shall pay for this Sugar.  Lady. 
What, han't you dispatched?  Cress. 
No Sweetest, I am dissuaded by my son from the Sale o'th' Land.  Lady. 
Dissuaded by your son!  Cress. 
I cannot get his hand to't.  Lady. 
Where's our Steward? cause presently that all my Beds and Hangings be taken down; provide Carts, pack them up, I'll to my House i'th' Country, have I studied the way to your preferment and your children's, and do you cool i'th' upshot?  Young Cress. 
With your pardon, I cannot understand this course a way to any preferment, rather a direct path to our ruin.  Lady. 
Oh sir, you are young sighted: show them the project of the Land I mean to buy in Ireland, that shall outvalue yours three thousand in a year.  Kna. 
Look you sir, here is Clangibbon, a fruitful country, and well wooded.  Cress. 
What's this, Marsh ground?  Kna. 
No, these are Bogs, but a little Cost will drain them. This upper part (Map. that runs by the black water, is the Cossacks' Land, a spacious country, and yields excellent profit by the Salmon, and fishing for Herring: here runs the Kernes-dale, admirable feed for cattle, and here about is St. Patrick's Purgatory.  Young Cress. 
Purgatory! shall we purchase that too?  Lady. 
Come, come, will you dispatch th'other business, we may go through with this?  Cress. 
My son's unwilling.  Lady. 
Upon my soul sir, I'll never bed with you till you have sealed.  Cress. 
Thou hear'st her: on thy blessing follow me toth' Court, and seal.  Young Cress. 
Sir, were it my death, were't toth' loss of my estate, I vow to obey you in all things; yet with it remember there are two young ones living that may curse you: I pray dispose part of the money, on their generous Educations.  Lady. 
Fear no you sir: The Caroche there, when you have dispatched, you shall find me at the Scriveners where I shall receive the money.  Young Cress. 
She'll devour that mass too.  Lady. 
How likest thou my power over him?  Saun. 
Excellent.  Lady. 
This is the height of a great Ladies sway,  
When her night service makes her rule i'th' day.  Exeunt. manet Knavesbee. Enter Knaves bee's Wife. Kna. 
Not yet Sib? my Lord keeps thee so long, thouart welcome I see then, and pays sweetly too: a good wench Sib thouart, to obey thy husband. She's come: a hundred mark a year, how fine and easy it comes into mine arms now! Welcome home, what says my Lord, Sib?  Wife. 
My Lord says you are a Cuckold.  Kna. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha, I thank him for that Bob i'faith, I'll afford it him again at the same price a month hence, and let the commodity grow as scarce as it will. Cuckold says his Lordship! ha, ha, I shall burst my sides with laughing that's the worst, name not a hundred year, for then I burst. It smarts not so much as a fillip on the forehead by five parts: what has his dalliance taken from thy lips? 'tis as sweet as ere 'twas, let me try else: buss me Sugar-candy.  Wife. 
Forbear, you presume to a lord's pleasure!  Kna. 
How's that! not I Sib?  Wife. 
Never touch me more, I'll keep the noble Stamp upon my lip, no under baseness shall deface it now; you taught me the way, now I am in, I'll keep it, I have kissed Ambition, and I love it, I loathe the memory of every touch my lip hath tasted from thee.  Kna. 
Nay but sweet Sib, you do forget yourself.  Wife. 
I will forget all that I ever was, and nourish new sirrah, I am a Lady.  Kna. 
Lord bless us Madam.  Wife. 
I have enjoyed a Lord, that's real possession, and daily shall, the which all Ladies have not with their Lords.  Kna. 
But with your patience Madam, who was it that preferred you to this Ladyship?  Wife. 
'Tis all I am beholding to thee for, thoust brought me out of ignorance into light, simple as I was, I thought thee a man till I found the difference by a man: thou art a beast, a horned beast, an Ox.  Kna. 
Are these ladies' terms?  Wife. 
For thy pander's Fee it shall be laid under the Candlestick, look for't, I'll leave it for thee.  Kna. 
A little lower, good your Ladyship, my Cousin Chamlet is in the house, let these things go no further.  Wife. 
'Tis for mine own credit if I forbear, not thine, thou bugle-browed beast thou.  Enter George with Rolls of Paper. George. 
Bidden, bidden, bidden, bidden; so, all these are past: but here's as large a walk to come, if I do not get it up at the feast, I shall be leaner for bidding the Guests I'm sure.  Kna. 
How now! who's this?  George. 
Doctor Glister, et; what word's this? fuxor, oh Uxor, the Doctor and his wife: Mr. Body et uxor of Bowlane, Mr. Knavesbee et uxor.  Kna. 
Ha, we are in, whatsoever the matter is.  George. 
Here's forty couple more in this quarter; but there the Provision bringing in, that puzzles me most: One Ox, that will hardly serve for Beef too; five Muttons, ten Lambs, poor innocents, they'll be devoured too; three gross of Capons.  Kna. 
Mercy upon us! what a Slaughterhouse is here!  George. 
Two bushels of small Birds, Plovers, Snipes, Woodcocks, Partridge, Larks; then for Baked-meats.  Kna. 
George, George, what Feast is this? 'tis not for St. George's day?  George. 
Cry you mercy sir, you and your wife are in my Roll: my Master invites you his Guests tomorrow dinner.  Kna. 
Dinner sayst thou? he means to feast a month sure.  George. 
Nay sir, you make up but a hundred couple.  Kna. 
Why, what Ship has brought an India home to him, that he's so bountiful? or what friend dead (unknown to us) has so much left to him of arable Land, that he means to turn to pasture thus?  George. 
Nay, 'tis a vessel sir, a good estate comes all in one bottom to him, and 'tis a question whether ever he find the bottom or no; a thousand a year, that's the uppermost.  Kna. 
A thousand a year!  George. 
To go no further about the Bush sir, now the Bird is caught; my Master is tomorrow to be married, and amongst the rest invites you a Guest, at his Wedding-Dinner the second.  Kna. 
Married!  George. 
There is no other remedy for flesh and blood, that will have leave to play whether we will or no, or wander into forbidden pastures.  Kna. 
Married! why he is married, man; his wife is in my house now, thy Mistress is alive, George.  George. 
She that was, it may be sir, but dead to him, she played a little too rough with him, and he has discarded her, he's divorced sir.  Kna. 
He divorced! then is her labour saved; for she was labouring a Divorce from him.  George. 
They are well parted then sir.  Kna. 
But wilt thou not speak with her? i'faith invite her to 't.  George. 
'Tis not in my Commission, I dare not, fare you well sir, I have much business in hand, and the time is short.  Kna. 
Nay but George, I prithee stay, may I report this to her for a certain truth?  George. 
Wherefore am I employed in this Invitation sir?  Kna. 
Prithee what is she, his second Choice?  George. 
Truly a goodly presence, likely to bear great children, and great store, she never saw five and thirty Summers together in her life by her appearance, and comes in her French-hood, by my fecks a great Match 'tis like to be; I am sorry for my old Mistress but cannot help it: pray you excuse me now sir, for all the business goes through my hands, none employed but myself.  Exit George. Kna. 
Why here is news that no man will believe, but he that sees.  Kna. Wife. 
This, and your Cuckoldry, will be digestion throughout the City dinners and suppers, for a month together, there will need no Cheese.  Enter Mrs. Chamlet. Kna. 
No more of that Sib: I'll call my Cousin Chamlet, and make her partaker of this sport; she's come already. Cousin, take't at once, you're a free woman, your late husband's to be married tomorrow.  Mris. Cham. 
Married! to whom?  Kna. 
To a French-hood byrlakins, as I understand, great cheer prepared, and great Guests invited, so far I know.  Mris. Cham. 
What a cursed wretch was I to pare my Nails today, a Friday too; I looked for some mischief.  Kna. 
Why, I did think this had accorded with your best liking, you sought for him what he has sought for you, a Separation, and by Divorce too.  Mris. Cham. 
I'll Divorce 'em? Is he to be married to a French-hood? I'll dress it the English fashion; ne'er a Coach to be had with six horses to strike fire i'th' streets as we go?  Kna. 
Will you go home then?  Mris. Cham. 
Good Cousin, help me to whet one of my knives, while I sharp the tother, give me a sour apple to set my teeth an edge, I would give five pound for the paring of my nails again: have you ere a Bird-spit i'th' house, I'll dress one dish to the wedding.  Kna. 
This violence hurts yourself the most.  Mrs. Cham. 
I care not who I hurt; oh my heart, how it beats a both sides; will you run with me for a wager into Lombardstreet now?  Kna. 
I'll walk with you Cousin a sufficient pace; Sib. shall come softly after, I'll bring you through Bearbinder-lane.  Mrs. Cham. 
Bearbinder-lane cannot hold me, I'll the nearest way over St. Mildred's Church, if I meet any French-hoods by the way, I'll make black patches enough for the rheum.  Exeunt. Kna. wife. 
So 'tis to my wish, Master Knavesbee,  
Help to make peace abroad, here you'll find wars,  
I'll have a divorce too, with locks and bars.  Exit. Enter George, Margarita. George. 
Madam, but stay here a little, my Master comes instantly, I heard him say he did owe you a good turn, and now's the time to take it, I'll warrant you a sound reward ere you go.  Enter Chamlet. Mar. 
Ey thank u de bon cour Monsieur.  George. 
Look he's here already, now would a skilful Navigator take in his Sails, for sure there is a storm towards.  Exit George. Cham. 
Oh Madam I perceive in your countenance (I am beholding to you) All is peace? Mar. All quiet, goor friendship, ey mooch ado, ey strive wid him: give goor worda for you; no more speak a de matra, all es undone u no more trobla.  Enter Mris. Chamlet, and Knavesbee. Cham. 
Look, there's the price of a fair pair of Gloves, and wear 'em for my sake.  Mrs. Cham. 
Oh, oh, oh, my hearts broke out of my ribs.  Kna. 
Nay a little patience.  Marg. 
Ey thank u artely, shall no bestow en gloves, shall put moosh more to dees, an bestow your shop; Regard dees stofa my petticoat u no soosh anodre; shall deal wid u for moosh; take in your hand.  Cham. 
I see it Mistress, 'tis good stuff indeed, 'tis a Silk rash, I can pattern it.  Mrs. Cham. 
Shall he take up her coats before my face? Oh beastly creature; French-hood, French-hood, I will make your hair grow thorough.  Cham. 
My wife returned! oh welcome home, sweet Rachel.  Mrs. Cham. 
I forbid the Banes, lecher and strumpet, thou shalt bear children without noses.  Marg. 
O pardonne moy, by my trat ey mean u no hurta: what u meant by dees?  Mrs. Cham. 
I will have thine eyes out, and thy Bastards shall be as blind as Puppies.  Cham. 
Sweet Rachel, good Cousin help to pacify.  Mrs. Cham. 
I forbid the Banes, Adulterer.  Cham. 
What means she by that sir?  Kna. 
Good Cousin forbid your rage a while, unless you hear, by what sense will you receive satisfaction?  Mrs. Cham 
By my hands and my teeth sir, give me leave, will you bind me whiles mine enemy kills me?  Cham. 
Here all are your friends sweet wife.  Mrs. Cham. 
will't have two wives? Do and by hanged Fornicator, I forbid the Banes; give me the French-hood, I'll tread it under feet in a pair of pantofles.  Marg. 
Begar shall save hood head and all; shall come no more here, ey warrant u..  Exit Margarita. Kna. 
Sir, the truth is, Report spoke it for truth, you were tomorrow to be married.  Mrs. Cham. 
I forbid the Banes.  Cham. 
Mercy deliver me, if my grave embrace me in the bed of death, I would to Church with willing ceremony; but for my wedlock-fellow, here she is the first and last that ere my thoughts looked on.  Kna. 
Why la you Cousin, this was nought but error or an assault of mischief.  Cham. 
Whose report was it?  Kna. 
Your man George's, who invited me to the wedding.  Enter George. Cham. 
George? And was he sober? Good sir call him.  George. 
It needs not sir, I am here already.  Cham. 
Did you report this George?  George. 
Yes sir I did.  Cham. 
And wherefore did you so?  George. 
For a new suit that you promised me sir, if I could bring home my Mistress, and I think she's come with a mischief.  Mrs. Cham. 
Give me that villain's ears.  George. 
I would give ear, if I could hear you talk wisely.  Mrs. Cham. 
Let me cut off his ears.  George. 
I shall hear worse of you hereafter then, limb for limb, one of my ears, for one of your tongues, and I'll lay out for my Master.  Cham. 
'Twas knavery with a good purpose in't, sweet Rachel, this was e'en George's meaning, a second marriage twixt thyself and me, and now I woo the to't, a quiet night will make the Sun like a fresh Bridegroom rise, and kiss the chaste cheek of the rosy morn which we will imitate, and like him create Fresh buds of love, fresh spreading arms, fresh fruit, Fresh wedding robes, and George's fresh new suit.  Mrs. Cham. 
This is fine stuff, have you much on't to sell?  George. 
A remnant of a yard.  Cham. 
Come, come, all's well, sir, you must sup, instead of to morrows dinner.  Exeunt. Kna. 
I follow you; no: 'tis another way,  
My Lords reward calls me to better cheer  
Many good meals a hundred marks a year;  
my wife's transformed a Lady, tush, she'll come to her shape again,  
my Lord rides the circuit,  
If I rid along with him, what need I grudge  
I can as easy sit, and speed as much.  Exit Knavesbee.  

ACTUS. V.  Enter old Franklin in mourning: young Cressingham with young Franklin disguised like an old Servingman. Yo. Cress. 
SIr, your son's death which has apparelled you in this darker wearing, is a loss wherein I have ample share; he was my friend.  Old Fran. 
He was my nearest and dearest enemy, and the perpetual fear of a worse end had he continued his former dissolute course, makes me weigh his death the lighter.  Young Cress. 
Yet sir, with your pardon, if you value him every way as he deserved, it will appear your scanting of his means, and the Lord Beaufort's most unlordly breach of promise to him, made him fall upon some courses, to which his nature and mine own, (made desperate likewise by the cruelty of a Mother in Law) would else have been as strange, as insolent greatness is to distressed virtue.  Old Frank. 
Yes, I have heard of that too; your defeat made upon a Mercer, I style't modestly, the Law intends it plain cozenage.  Young Cress. 
'Twas no less, but my penitence and restitution, may come fairly off from't; it was no Impeachment to the Glory won at Agincourt's great Battle, that the achiever of it in his youth had been a Purse-taker, this with all reverence toth' great Example. Now to my business, wherein you have made such noble trial of your worth, that in a world so dull as this, where faith is almost grown to be a miracle, I have found a friend so worthy as yourself, to purchase all the Land my Father sold at the persuasion of a riotous woman, and charitable to reserve it for his use, and the good of his three children; this I say, is such a deed shall style you our Preserver, and owe the memory of your worth, and pay it to all posterity.  Old Frank. 
Sir, what I have done, looks to the end of the good deed itself, no other way i'th' world.  Young Cress. 
But would you please out of a friendly reprehension, to make him sensible of the weighty wrong he has done his children, yet I would not have it too bitter, for he undergoes already such torment in a woman's naughty pride, too harsh reproof would kill him.  Old Frank. 
Leave you that to my discretion: I have made myself my son's Executor, and am come up on purpose to collect his Creditors, and where I find his pennyworth conscionable, I'll make them in part satisfaction:  Enter George. 
Oh this fellow was born near me, and his trading here i'th' City may bring me to the knowledge of the men my son ought money to.  George. 
Your Worship's welcome to London, and I pray how does all our good friends i'th' Country?  Old Frank. 
They are well, George: how thou art shot up since I saw thee? what, I think thou art almost out of thy Time?  George. 
I am out of my wit's sir, I have lived in a kind of Bedlam these four years, how can I be mine own man then?  Old Frank. 
Why, what's the matter?  George. 
I may turn soap-boiler, I have a loose body: I am turned away from my Master.  Old Frank. 
How! turned away! Indenture.  George. 
I am gone sir, not in drink, and yet you may behold my Indentures: Oh the wicked wit of woman, for the good turn I did bringing her home, she ne'er left sucking my Master's breath, like a Cat, kissing him I mean, till I was turned away!  Old Frank. 
I have heard she's a terrible woman.  George. 
Yes, and the miserablest! her sparing in Housekeeping has cost him somewhat, the Dagger-pyes can testify: she has stood in's light most miserably, like your Fasting-days before Red letters in the Almanac: saying, the pinching of our bellies would be a mean to make him wear Scarlet the sooner. She had once persuaded him to have bought Spectacles for all his servants, that they might have worn 'em dinner and supper.  Old Frank. 
To what purpose?  George. 
Marry, to have made our Victuals seem bigger than 't was: she shows from whence she came, that my Wind-colic can witness.  Old Frank. 
Why, whence came she?  George. 
Marry from a Courtier, and an Officer too, that was up and down I know not how often.  Old. Fra. 
Had he any great place?  George. 
Yes, and a very high one, but he got little by it; he was one that blew the Organ in the Court Chapel, our Puritans, especially your Puritans in Scotland, could ne'er away with him.  Old. Fran. 
Is she one of the Sect?  George. 
Faith I think not, for I am certain, she denies her husband the supremacy.  Old Frank. 
Well George, your difference may be reconciled. I am now to use your help in a business that concerns me: here's a Note of men's names here i'th' City, unto whom my son ought money, but I do not know their dwelling?  Geor. 
Let me see sir: fifty pound ta'en up at use of Mr. Water Thin the Brewer.  Old Frank. 
What's he?  Geor. 
An obstinate fellow, and one that denied payment of the groats, till he lay byth' heels for't; I know him: Item, fourscore pair of provant Breeches o'th' new fashion, to Pinch buttock a Hosier in Burchen-lane, so much.  Old Frank. 
What the devil did he with so many pair of breeches?  Yo. Fran. 
Supply a Captain sir, a friend of his went over to the Palatinate.  Geor. 
Item, to my Tailor Mr. Wetherwise, by St. Clements-church.  Yo. Cress. 
Who should that be? it may be 'tis the new Prophet, the Astrological Tailor.  Yo. Frank. 
No, no, no sir, we have nothing to do with him.  George. 
Well, I'll read no further, leave the note to my discretion, do not fear but I'll inquire them all.  Old Frank. 
Why, I thank thee.  George. 
Sir, rest assured I shall in all your business be faithful to you, and at better leisure find time to imprint deeply in your father, the wrong he has done you,  Exeunt. Old Franklin, George, and Young Franklin. Yo. Cress. 
You are worthy in all things?  Enter Saunder. 
Is my father stirring?  Saund. 
Yes, sir, my Lady wonders you are thus chargeable to your father, and will not direct yourself unto some gainful study, may quit him of your dependence.  Yo. Cress. 
What study?  Saund. 
Why the Law, that Law that takes up most o'th' wits i'th' kingdom, not for most good, but most gain, or Divinity; I have heard you talk well, and I do not think but you'd prove a singular fine Churchman.  Yo. Cress. 
I should prove a plural better, if I could attain to fine benefices.  Saund. 
My Lady now she has money, is studying to do good works, she talked last night what a goodly act it was, of a Countess (Northamptonshire breed belike, or thereabouts) that to make Coventry a Corporation, rode through the City naked, and by day light.  Yo. Cress. 
I do not think, but you have Ladies living would discover as much in private, to advance but some member of a Corporation.  Enter Sir Fran. Cressingham. Saund. 
Well sir, your wit is still goring at my lady's projects: here's your father.  Old Cress. 
Thou com'st to chide me, hearing how like a ward I am handled, since the sale of my Land.  Yo. Cress. 
No sir, but to turn your eyes into your own bosom.  Old Cress. 
Why, I am become my wife's pensioner; am confined to a hundred mark a year, t'one suit, and one man to attend me.  Saund. 
And is not that enough for a private Gentleman?  Old Cress. 
Peace sirrah, there is nothing but knave speaks in thee, and my two poor children must be put forth to prentice.  Yo. Cress. 
Ha! to prentice: sir, I do not come to grieve you, but to show how wretched your estate was that you could not come to see order, until foul disorder pointed the way to't, so inconsiderate, yet so fruitful still is dotage to beget its own destruction.  Old Cress. 
Surely I am nothing, and desire to be so, pray thee fellow entreat her only to be quiet, I have given her all my estate on that condition.  Saund. 
Yes sir, her Coffers are well lined believe me.  Old Cress. 
And yet she is not contented; we observe the Moon is ne'er so pleasant, and so clear as when she is at the full.  Yo. Cress. 
You did not use my mother with this observance, you are like the Frogs, who weary of their quiet King, consented to the election of the Stork, who in the end devoured them.  Old Cress. 
You may see how apt man is to forfeit all his judgement upon the instant of his fall.  Yo. Cress. 
Look up sir.  Old Cress. 
O my hearts broke; weighty are injuries that come from an enemy, but those are deadly that come from a friend, for Enter the Lady Cressingham .we see commonly those are ta'en most to heart: she comes.  Yo. Cress. 
What a terrible eye she darts on us.  Old Cress. 
Oh most natural, for lightning to go before the thunder.  Lady. 
What? Are you in council? are ye levying faction against us.  Old Cress. 
Good friend.  Lady. 
Sir, sir, pray come hither, there is winter in your looks, a latter winter, do you complain to your kindred? I'll make you fear extremely, to show you have any cause to fear: Are the bonds sealed for the six thousand pounds I put forth to use?  Saund. 
Yes Madam.  Lady. 
The bonds were made in my uncle's name.  Saund. 
Yes.  Lady. 
'Tis well.  Old Cress. 
'Tis strange though.  Lady. 
Nothing strange, you'll think the allowance I have put you to as strange, but your judgement cannot reach the aim I have in't: you were pricked last year to be High Sheriff, and what it would have cost you I understand now, all this charge and the other by the sale of your Land, and the money at my dispose, and your pension so small, will settle you in quiet, make you Master of a retired life, and our great ones may think you a politic man, and that you are aiming at some strange business, having made all over.  Old Cress. 
I must leave you, man is never truly awake till he be dead.  Extent old Cress. and Saund. Yo. Cress. 
What a dream have you made of my father?  Lady. 
Let him be so, and keep the proper place of dreams; his bed, until I raise him.  Yo. Cress. 
Raise! him not unlikely, 'tis you have ruined him.  Lady. 
You do not come to quarrel?  Yo. Cress. 
No certain, but to persuade you to a thing, that in the virtue of it, nobly carries its own commendation, and you shall gain much honour by it, which is the recompense of all virtuous actions, to use my father kindly.  Lady. 
Why? does he complain to you sir?  Yo. Cress. 
Complain: why should a King complain for any thing, but for his sins to heaven, the prerogative of husband is like to his, over his wife.  Lady. 
I am full of business sir, and will not mind you.  Yo. Cress. 
I must not leave you thus; I tell you mother 'tis dangerous to a woman, when her mind raises her to such height, it makes her only capable of her own merit; nothing of duty! oh, 'twas a strange unfortunate o'erprizing your beauty, brought him, (otherwise discreet) into the fatal neglect of his poor children: what will you give us of the late sum you received?  Lady. 
Not a penny; away, you are troublesome and saucy.  Yo. Cress. 
You are too cruel: denials even from Princes who may do what they list, should be supplied with a gracious verbal usage, that though they do not cure the sore, they may abate the sense of't; the wealth you seem to command over, is his, and he I hope will dispose of't to our use.  Lady. 
When he can command my will?  Yo. Cress. 
Have you made him so miserable, that he must take a Law from his wife?  Lady. 
Have you not had some Lawyers forced to groan under the burden?  Yo. Cress. 
Oh! but the greater the women, the more visible are their vices.  Lady. 
So sir, you have been so bold; by all can bind an oath, and I'll not break it, I will not be the woman to you hereafter you expected.  Yo. Cress. 
Be not; be not yourself, be not my father's wife, be not my Lady Cressingham, and then I'll thus speak to you, but you must not answer in your own person.  Lady. 
A fine Puppet play!  Yo. Cress. 
Good Madam, please you pity the distress of a poor Gentleman, that is undone by a cruel Mother in Law, you do not know her, nor does she deserve the knowledge of any good one, for she does not know herself, you would sigh for her that ere she took you sex, if you but heard her qualities.  Lady. 
This is a fine Crotchet.  Yo. Cress. 
Envy and Pride, flow in her painted breasts, she gives no other suck; all her attendants do not belong to her husband, his money is hers, marry his debts are his own, she bears such sway, she will not suffer his Religion be his own, but what she please to turn it to.  Lady. 
And all this while, I am the woman you libel against.  Yo. Cress. 
I remember ere the Land was sold, you talked of going to Ireland, but should you touch there, you would die presently.  Lady. 
Why Man?  Yo. Cress. 
The country brooks no poison: go, You'll find how difficult a thing it is, to make a settled or assured Estate of things ill gotten: when my father's dead, the curse of Lust and Riot follow you, marry some young gallant that may rifle you; yet add one blessing to your needy age, that you may die full of repentance.  Lady. 
Ha, Ha, Ha.  Ys. Cress. 
Oh! she's lost to any kind of goodness.  Exeunt. Enter Lord Beaufort, and Knavesbee. Beau. 
Sirrah, be gone, you're base.  Kna. 
Base, my good Lord? 'tis a ground part in Music, trebles, means, all his but sidling, your Honour bore a part as my wife says, my Lord.  Beau. 
Your wife's a Strumpet.  Kna. 
Ah ha, is she so? I am glad to hear it, open confession, open payment, the wagers mine then, a hundred a year my Lord, I said so before, and staked my head against it, thus after darksome night, the day is come, my Lord.  Beau. 
Hence, hide thy branded head, let no day see thee, nor thou any but thy execution day.  Kna. 
That's the day after washing day, once a week, I see't at home my Lord.  Beau. 
Go home and see thy prostituted wife (for sure 'tis so) now folded in a boy's adultery, my Page; on whom the hot-rained harlot dotes, this night he hath been her attendant, my house he's fled from, and must no more return, go, and make haste sir, lest your reward be lost for want of looking to.  Kna. 
My reward lost; is there nothing due for what is past, my Lord?  Beau. 
Yes Pander, Wittol, Macrio, basest of knaves, thou Boulster-bawd to thine own infamy! go, I have no more about me at this time, when I am better stored thou shalt have more where'er I meet thee.  Kna. 
Pander, Wittol, Macrio, base knave, bolster bawd; here is but five mark toward a hundred a year: this is poor payment, if Lords may be trusted no better than thus! I will go home and cut my wife's Nose off, I will turn over a new Leaf, and hang up the Page; lastly I will put on a large pair of Wet-leather Boots and drown myself, I will sink at Queen-hive, and rise again at Charingcross contrary to the Statute in Edwardo primo.  Exit Enter Old Franklin; his son as before, George, three or four Citizens, Creditors. Old Frank. 
Good health to your Lordship.  Beau. 
Mr. Franklin, I heard of your arrival, and the cause of this your sad appearance.  Old Frank. 
And 'tis no more than as your Honour says, indeed appearance, it has more form than feeling sorrow Sir, I must confess, there's none of these Gentlemen (though Aliens in blood) but have as large cause of grief as I.  1 Cred. 
No, by your favour sir, we are well satisfied; there was in his life a greater hope, but less assurance.  2 Cred. 
Sir, I wish all my debts of no better promise to pay me thus, fifty in the hundred comes fairly homewards.  Young Frank. 
Considering hard Bargains and dead Commodities, sir.  2 Cred. 
Thou sayst true, friend, and from a dead Debtor too.  Beau. 
And so you have compounded and agreed all your sons riotous Debts?  Old Frank. 
There's behind but one cause of worse condition, that done, he may sleep quietly.  1 Cred. 
Yes sure my Lord, this Gentleman is come a wonder to us all, that so fairly with half a loss could satisfy those debts were dead, even with his son, and from whom we could have nothing claimed.  Old Frank. 
I showed my reason; I would have a good name live after him, because he bore my Name.  2 Cred. 
May his tongue perish first (and that will spoil his trade) that first gives him a syllable of ill.  Enter Chamlet. Beau. 
Why this is friendly.  Cham. 
My Lord!  Beau. 
Mr. Chamlet! very welcome.  Cham. 
Mr. Franklin, I take it, these Gentlemen I know well: good Mr. Pennystone, Mr. Philip, Mr. Cheyney! I am glad I shall take my leave of so many of my good friends at once; your hand first, my Lord, fare you well sir, nay I must have all your hands to my Pass.  George. 
Will you have mine too sir?  Cham. 
Yes, thy two hands George, and I think two honest hands of a Tradesman, George, as any between Cornhill and Lombardstreet.  George. 
Take heed what you say sir, there's Birchen-lane between 'em.  Beau. 
But what's the cause of this, Mr. Chamlet?  Cham. 
I have the cause in handling, now my Lord; George, honest George is the cause, yet no cause of George's, George is turned away one way, and I must go another.  Beau. 
And whither is your way sir?  Cham. 
e'en to seek out a Quiet Life, my Lord: I do hear of a fine peaceable Island.  Beau. 
Why 'tis the same you live in.  Cham. 
No, 'tis so famed, but we th'inhabitants find it not so; the place I speak of has been kept with thunder, with frightful lightnings, amazing Noises, but now (th'enchantment broke) 'tis the Land of Peace, where Hogs and Tobacco yield fair increase.  Beau. 
This is a little wild methinks.  Cham. 
Gentlemen, fare you well, I am for the Bermudas.  Beau. 
Nay, good sir stay, and is that your only cause, the loss of George?  Cham. 
The loss of George, my Lord! make you that no cause? why but examine, would it not break the stout heart of a Nobleman to lose his George, much more the tender bosom of a Citizen.  Beau. 
Fie, fie, I'm sorry your gravity should run back to lightness thus: you go to the Bermoothes!  Old Frank. 
Better to Ireland Sir.  Cham. 
The Land of Ire, that's too near home, my wife will be heard from Hellbree to Divellin.  Old Frank. 
Sir, I must of necessity a while detain you: I must acquaint you with a benefit that's coming towards you. You were cheated of some goods of late, come, I'm a Cunning-man, and will help you to the most part again, or some reasonable satisfaction.  Enter Mrs. Chamlet. Cham. 
That's another cause of my unquiet Life, sir; can you do that, I may chance stay another Tide or two: My wife! (I must speak more private with you) by forty foot pain of death, I dare not reach her: No words of me sweet Gentlemen.  Slips behind the Arras. George. 
I had need hide too.  Mrs. Cham. 
Oh, my Lord, I have scarce tongue enough yet to tell you; my husband, my husband's gone from me, your warrant good my Lord, I never had such need of your warrant; my husband's gone from me.  Beau. 
Going he is, 'tis true; has ta'en his leave of me, and all these Gentlemen, and 'tis your sharp tongue that whips him forwards.  Mris. Cham. 
A warrant, good my Lord.  Beau. 
You turn away his servants, such on whom his estate depends he says, who know his books, his debts, his customers; the form and order of all his affairs you make orderless, chiefly his George you have banished from him.  Mris. Cham. 
My Lord, I will call George again.  George within. 
Call George again.  Beau. 
Why hark you, how high voiced you are, that raise an Echo from my cellarage which we with modest loudness cannot.  Mris. Cham. 
My Lord, do you think I speak too loud?  George within. 
Too loud.  Beau. 
Why hark, your own tongue answers you, and reverberates your words into your teeth.  Mris. Cham. 
I will speak lower all the days of my life: I never found the fault in myself till now, your warrant good my Lord, to stay my husband.  Beau. 
Well, well, it shall o'ertake him, ere he pass Gravesend, provided that he meet his quietness at home, else he's gone again.  Old Frank. 
And withal to call George again.  Mrs. Cham. 
I will call George again.  George. 
Call George again.  Beau. 
See, you are raised again, the Echo tells you.  Mrs. Cham. 
I did forget myself indeed, my Lord: this is my last fault, I will go make a silent enquiry after George, I will whisper half a score Porters in the ear, that shall run softly up and down the City to seek him. bye ye my Lord, buoy all Gentlemen. Exit  Beau. 
George, your way lies before you now, cross the street, and come into her eyes, your Master's Journey will be stayed.  George. 
I'll warrant you bring it to better subjection yet.  Beau. 
These are fine flashes: how now Mr. Chamlet?  Cham. 
I had one ear lent to you-ward, my Lord, and this o'th' tother side, both sounded sweetly: I have whole recovered my late losses sir, th'one half paid, the to'ther is forgiven.  Beau. 
Then your Journey is stayed?  Enter Barb. & Knavesbee. Cham. 
Alas my Lord, that was a trick of age, for I had left never a trick of youth like it, to succour me.  Beau. 
How now? what new Object's here!  Barb. 
The next man we meet shall judge us.  Kna. 
Content, though he be but a Common-Council-man.  Beau. 
The one's a knave, I could know him at twelve score distance.  Old Frank. 
And to'ther 's a Barber-Surgeon, my Lord.  Kna. 
I'll go no further, here is the honourable Lord, that I know will grant my request; My Lord—  Barb. 
Peace, I will make it plain to his Lordship: My Lord, a Covenant by Jus Jurandum is between us, he is to suffocate my Respiration by his Capistrum, and I to make incision so far as mortification by his Jugulars.  Beau. 
This is not altogether so plain neither, sir.  Barb. 
I can speak no plainer my Lord, unless I wrong mine art.  Kna. 
I can my Lord, I know some part of the Law, I am to take him in this place where I find him, and lead him from hence to the place of Execution, and there to hang him till he dies; he in equal courtesy is to cut my throat with his Razor, and there's an end of both on's.  Barb. 
There is the end my Lord, but we want the beginning: I stand upon it to be strangled first, before I touch either his Gula or Cervix.  Kna. 
I am against it, for how shall I be sure to have my Throat cut after he's hanged.  Beau. 
Is this a Condition betwixt you?  Kna. 
A firm Covenant, signed and sealed by oath and handfast, and wants nothing but Agreement.  Beau. 
A little pause: what might be the cause on either part?  Barb. 
My passions are grown to putrefaction, and my griefs are gangrened; Mr. Chamlet has scarified me all over, besides the loss of my new Brush.  Kna. 
I am kept out of mine own Castle, my Wife keeps the Hold against me: your Page my Lord, is her Champion; I summoned a parley at the window, was answered with Defiance: they confess they have lain together, but what they have done else I know not.  Beau. 
Thou canst have no wrong that deserves pity, thou art thyself so bad.  Kna. 
I thank your Honour for that, let me have my throat cut then.  Enter Selenger as a woman, and Mrs. Knavesbee. Cham. 
Sir, I can give you a better remedy than his Capistrum; your ear a little.  Mrs. Kna. 
I come with a bold innocence to answer the best and worst that can accuse me here.  Beau. 
Your husband.  Mrs. Kna. 
He's the worst, I dare his worst.  Kna. 
Your Page, your Page.  Mrs. Kna. 
We lay together in bed, it is confessed; you, and your ends of Law makes worser of it, I did it for reward.  Beau. 
I'll hear no more of this, come Gentlemen will you walk?  Enter Young Cressingham. Young Cress. 
My Lord, a little stay; you'll see a sight that neighbour amity willbe much pleased with, 'tis come already, my Father sir.  Enter Old Cressingham. Beau. 
There must be cause certain for this good change: Sir, you are bravely met, this is at the best I ever saw you.  Cress. 
My Lord, I am amazement to myself; I slept in poverty, and am awake into this wonder; how I can thus brave, my dreams did not so much as tell me of; I am of my kind sons new making up, it exceeds the pension much, that yesternight allowed me, and my pockets centupled, but I am my son's child, sir, he knows of me more than I do myself.  Young Cress. 
Sir, you yet have but earnest of your happiness, a Pinnace fore-riding a goodly vessel, by this near anchor-bulked like a Castle, and with Jewels fraught, (Joys above Jewels sir,) from deck to keel, make way for the receipt, empty your bosom of all griefs and troubles, leave not a sigh to beat her back again, she is so stored ye'd need have room enough, to take her lading.  Cress. 
If one Commodity be wanting now, all this is nothing.  Young Cress. 
Tush, that must out too, there must be no remembrance, not the thought that ever youth in woman did abuse you, that e'er your children had a stepmother, that you sold Lands to please your punishment, that you were circumscribed and taken in, abridged the large extendure of your grounds, and put into the pinfold that belonged to't, that your son did cheat for want of maintenance; that he did beg, you shall remember only, for I have begged off all these troubles from you.  Enter Lady Cress. in civil habit, Saund. and children very gallant. Beau. 
This was a good weeks labour.  Young Cress. 
Not an hours my Lord, but 'twas a happy one; see sir, a new day shines on you.  La. Cress. 
Oh sir, your son has robbed me.  Cress. 
Ha! that way I instructed?  Yo Cress. 
Nay, hear her sir.  La. Cress. 
Of my good purpose sir, he hath forced out of me, what lay concealed, ripened my pity with his dews of duty, forgive me sir, and but keep the number of every grief that I have pained you with, I'll tenfold pay with fresh obedience.  Cham. 
Oh, that my wife were here to learn this lesson.  Lady Cress. 
Your state is not abated, what was yours, is still your own, and take the cause withal of my harsh seeming usage; it was to reclaim faults in yourself, the swift consumption of many large revenues, Gaiming, that of not much less speed, burning up house and land, not casual but cunning fire, which though it keeps the Chimney, and outward shows like Hospitality, is only devourer on't, Consuming Chemistry; there I have made you a flat banquet-out; all your Stillatories and labouring Minerals are demolished, that part of Hell in your house is extinct, put out your desire with them, and then these feet shall level with my hands, until you raise my stooped humility to higher grace, to warm these lips with love, and duty do to every silver hair, each one shall be a Senator to my obedience.  Cress. 
All this I know before, whoever of you that had but one ill thought of this good woman, you owe a knee to her, and she is merciful if she forgive you.  Enter George, and Mrs. Chamlet. Beau. 
That shall be private penance sir, we'll all joy in public with you.  George. 
On the conditions I tell you, not else.  Mrs. Cham. 
Sweet George, dear George, any conditions.  Cham. 
My wife!  Old Frank. 
Peace, George is bringing her to conditions.  Cham. 
Good ones, good George.  George. 
You shall never talk your voice above the key, sol, sol, sol.  Mrs. Cham. 
Sol, sol, sol, I George.  George. 
Say welcome home honest George, in that pitch.  Mrs. Cham. 
Welcome home honest George.  George. 
Why this is well now.  Cham. 
That's well indeed, George.  George. 
Rogue, nor Rascal must never come out of your mouth.  Mrs. Cham. 
They shall never come in, honest George.  George. 
Nor I will not have you call my Master plain husband, that's too course, but as your Gentlewomen in the Country use, and your persons wives in the Town, 'tis comely, and shallbe customed in the City, call him Master Chamlet at every word.  Mrs. Cham. 
At every word, honest George.  George. 
Look you, there he is, salute him then.  Mrs. Cham. 
Welcome home, good Mr. Chamlet.  Cham. 
Thanks, and a thousand sweet Wife; I may say honest George.  George. 
Yes sir, or Bird, or Chuck, or heart's ease, or plain Rachel, but call her Rac no more, so long as she is quiet.  Cham. 
God-a-mercy, shalt have thy new suit a Sunday George.  Mrs. Cham. 
George shall have two new suits, Mr. Chamlet.  Cham. 
God-a-mercy, i'faith Chuck.  Bar. 
Mr. Chamlet, you and I are friends, all even betwixt us?  Cham. 
I do acquit thee, neighbour Sweetbal.  Bar. 
I will not be hanged then, Knaves-bee do thy worst; nor I will not cut thy throat.  Kna. 
I must do't myself.  Bar. 
If thou com'st to my shop, and usurpest my chair of maintenance, I will go as near as I can, but I will not do't.  Young Cress. 
No, 'tis I must cut Knaves-bee's throat, for slandering a modest Gentlewoman, and my wife in shape of your Page, my Lord, in her own I durst not place her so near your Lordship.  Beau. 
No more of that sir, if your ends have acquired their own events, crown 'em with your own Joy.  Yo. Cress. 
Down a your knees Knavesbee, to your wife, she's too honest for you.  Bar. 
Down, down, before you are hanged, 't'will'twill be to late afterwards, and long thou canst not scape it.  Knavesbee kneels. Mrs. Kna. 
You'll play the Pander no more, will you?  Kna. 
Oh, that's an inch into my throat.  Mrs. Kna. 
And let out your wife for her?  Kna. 
Oh sweet wife, go no deeper.  Mris. Kna. 
Dare any be bail for your better behaviour?  Beau. 
Yes, yes I dare, he will mend one day.  Mrs. Kna. 
And be worse the next.  Kna. 
Hang me the third then, dear merciful wife,  
I will do Any thing for a quiet Life.  Beau. 
All then is reconciled?  Barb. 
Only my brush is lost, my dear new brush.  Old Frank. 
I will help you to satisfaction for that too sir.  Barb. 
Oh, Sperma Caete, I feel it heal already.  Old Frank. 
Gentlemen, I have fully satisfied my dead sons debts?  Omnes. 
All pleased, all paid sir.  Old Frank. 
Then once more here I bring him back to life, from my servant to my son, nay, wonder not; I have not dealt by fallacy with any, my son was dead, whoe'er out lives his virtues is a dead man, for when you hear of spirits that walk in real bodies, to the amaze and cold astonishment of such as meet 'em, and all would shun; those are men of vices, who nothing have but what is visible, and so by consequence they have no souls, but if the soul return but if the Soul return he lives again,  
Created newly; such my Son appears  
By my blessing rooted, growing by his tears.  Omnes. 
You have beguiled us honestly sir.  Frank. 
And you shall have your brush again.  Barber. 
My basins shall all ring for joy  Beaufort. 
Why this deserves a Triumph, and my cost shall begin a feast to't, to which I do invite you all; such happy reconcilements must not be passed without a health of joy,  
Discorded friends atoned, men and their wives  
This hope proclaims your after quiet Lives.  Exeunt.  
FINIS.   

EPILOGUE  
I Am sent t' inquire your Censure, and to know  
How you stand affected? whither we do owe  
Our service to your Favours, or must strike  
Our Sails (though full of hope) to your dislike:  
howe'er be pleased to think we purposed well,  
And from my fellows thus much I must tell,  
Instruct us but in what we went astray,  
And to redeem it, we'll take any way.