Vera Effigies Tho: Midletoni Gent:    

NO 

WIT  
HELP   LIKE A woman's.  
A COMEDY, BY Tho, Middleton, Gent.  
LONDON: Printed for Humphrey Moseley, at the Prince's Arms in St. Paul's churchyard. 1657.   

PROLOGUE.  
HOw is't possible to suffice  
So many Ears, so many Eyes?  
Some in wit, some in shows  
Take delight, and some in Clothes;  
Some for mirth they chiefly come,  
Some for passion, for both some;  
Some for lascivious meetings, that's their arrant;  
Some to detract, and ignorance their warrant.  
How is't possible to please  
Opinion tosed in such wild Seas!  
Yet I doubt not, if Attention  
Seize you above, and Apprehension  
You below, to take things quickly,  
We shall both make you sad, and tickle ye,   

The actor's Names.  

SIr Oliver Twilight, a rich old Knight.  
Philip his Son, servant to Mistress Grace.  
Sandfield, friend to Philip, servant to Mistress Jane.  
Mr. Sunset, true Father of Mistress Grace.  
Mr. Low-water, a decayed Gentleman.  


Suitors to the Lady Golden-fleece.  
Sir Gilbert Lambston  
Mr. Weatherwise  
Mr. Pepperton  
Mr. Overdon    
Mr. Beveril, Brother to Mistress Low-water:  
Dutch Merchant.  
Dutch Boy.  
savorwit, Sir Oliver's man.  
Footman.  
Piccadill, Lady Golden-fleeces Fool.   

Lady Twilight.  
Lady Golden fleece, a rich Widow.  
Mistress Low-water.  
Mistress Grace, Sunsets Daughter, but supposed Twilights.  
Mistress Jane, Twilights Daughter, but supposed Sunsets:   
The Scene LONDON.   

NO 

Wit  
Help   Like a woman's.  

Act 1.  

Scaen 1.  Enter Philip, Sir Oliver Twilights Son, with Savorwit his father's man. Phil. 
I Am at my wits ends savorwit.  Savorw. 
And I am ev●n following after you as fast as I can Sir.  Phil. 
My wife will be forced from me; my pleasure!  Sav. 
Talk no more on't Sir; how can there be any hope i'th' middle, when we're both at our wit's end in the beginning? My invention was ne'er so graveled since I first set out upon't.  Phil 

Nor does my stop stick only in this wheel▪  
Though it be a main vexation, but I'm grated  
In a dear absolute Friend, young Mr. Sandfield.   Sav. 
I there's another rub too.  Phil. 

Who supposes  
That I make love to his affected Mistress,  
When 'tis my Father works against the peace  
Of both our spirits, and woes unknown to me▪  
He strikes out sparks of undeserved anger,  
‛ Bwixt old Steel friendship, and new Stony hate:  
As much forgetful of the merry hours,  
The circuits of our youth hath spent and worn,  
As if they had not been, or we not born.   Sav. 
See where he comes.  Enter Sandfield. Sandf. 

Unmerciful in torment!  
Will this disease never forsake mine eye?   Phil. 

It must be killed first, if it grow so painful;  
Work it out strongly at one time, that th'anguish  
May never more come near thy precious sight.  
If my eternal sleep will give thee rest,  
Close up mine eyes with opening of my breast.   Sandf. 

I feel thy wrongs at midnight, and the weight  
Of thy close Treacheries: Thou hast a friendship  
As dangerous as a Strumpets, that will kiss  
Men into poverty, distress, and ruin.  
And to make clear the face of thy foul deeds,  
Thou workest by Seconds.   Phil. 

Then may the sharp point of an inward horror  
Strike me to earth, and save thy weapon guiltless.   Sandf. 
Not in thy Father?  Phil. 
How much is truth abused, when 'tis kept silent!  Phil. 
O defend me Friendship!  Sav. 

True; your anger's in an error all this while, Sir;  
But that a lover's weapon now hears reason,  
'Tis out still like a mad man's; hear but me Sir.  
'Ts my young Master's injury, not yours,  
That you quarrel with him for; and this shows  
As if you'd challenge a lame man the field,  
And cut off's head, because he has lost his Legs.  
His grief makes him dead flesh, as it appeared  
By offering up his breast to you; for believe it Sir,  
Had he not greater crosses of his own,  
Your Hilts could not cross him—   Sandf. 
How?  Sav. 

Not your Hilts Sir.  
Come I must have you friends, a pox of weapons▪  
There's a Whore gapes for't; put it up i'th' Scabbard.   Sandf. 
Thou'rt a made slave.  Sav. 

Come, give me both your hands,  
You're in a Quagmire both; should I release you now,  
Your wits would both come home in a stinking pickle;  
Your father's old Nose would smell you out presently.   Phil. 

Tell him the Secret, which no mortal knows  
But thou and I, and then he will confess  
How much he wronged the patience of his Friend.   Sav. 

Then thus the Marigold opens at the splendour  
Of a hot constant friendship 'twixt you both:  
'Tis not unknown to your ear, some ten years since,  
My Mistress his good Mother, with a Daughter  
About the age of six, crossing to Jernsey,  
Was taken by the Dunkirks, sold both, and separated,  
As the last news brings hot, the first and last  
So much discovered; for in nine years' space  
No certain tidings of their life or death,  
Or what place held 'em, Earth, the Sea, or Heaven,  
Came to the old man's ears, the Knight my Master,  
Till about five month's since, a Letter came,  
Sent from the Mother, which related all  
Their taking, selling, separation,  
And never meeting; and withal required  
Six hundred crown for Ransom, which my old Master  
No sooner heard the sound, but told the sum,  
Gave him the Gold, and sent us both aboard;  
We landing by the way, having a care  
To lighten us of our carriage, because Gold  
Is such a heavy metal, eased our Pockets  
In Wenches Aprons; Women were made to bear,  
But for us Gentlemen 'tis most unkindly.   Sandf. 
Well Sir.  Phil. 
A pure Rogue still!  Sav. 

Amongst the rest Sir  
'Twas my young Masters chance there to dote finely  
Upon a sweet young Gentlewoman; but one  
That would not sell her honour for the Indies,  
Till a Priest struck the bargain, and then half a crown dispatched it.  
To be brief, Wedded her and bedded her,  
Brought her home hither to his father's house;  
And with a fair tale of mine own bringing up,  
She passes for his sister that was sold.   Sandf. 

Let me not lose myself in wondering at thee;  
But how made you your score even for the Mother?   Sav. 

Pish, easily, we told him how her Fortunes  
Mocked us, as they mocked her; when we were o'th' Sea,  
She was o'th' Land; and as report was given,  
When we were landed, she was gone to Heaven;  
So he believes two lies one error bred,  
The Daughter ransomed, and the Mother dead.   Sandf. 

Let me admire thee, and withal confess  
My injuries to friendship.   Phil. 

They're all pardoned:  
These are the arms I bore against my friend—   Sav. 

But what's all this to th'present? this discourse  
Leaves you i'th' Bogg still.   Phil. 
On good Savorwit.  Sav. 

For yet our policy has crossed ourselves;  
For the old Knave my Master, little thinking her  
Wife to his Son, but his own daughter still,  
Seeks out a match for her.   Phil. 

Here I feel the Surgeon  
At second dressing   Sav. 

And h'as entertained  
Even for pure need, for fear the Glass should crack  
That is already broken, but well soadered,  
A mere Sot for her suitor, a rank Fox;  
One weatherwise, that woes by the almanac,  
Observes the Full and Change; an arrant mooncalf.  
And yet because the Fool demands no portion  
But the bare Down of her Smock, the old fellow  
Worn to the bone with a dry courteous Itch,  
To save his purse, and yet bestow his child,  
Consents to waste lumps of almanac stuff  
Kned with May Butter.—— Now as I have thought on't,  
I'll spoil him in the baking.   Sandf. 
Prithee, as how Sirrah?  Sav. 

I'll give him such a crack in one o'th' sides,  
He shall quite run out of my Master's favour▪   Phil. 
I should but too much love thee for that—  Sav. 

Thus then; to help you both at once, and so good night to you.  
After my wit has shipped away the fool,  
As he shall part, I'll buzz into the ear  
Of my old Master, that you Sir, Master Sandfield,  
Dearly affect his Daughter, and will take her  
With little or no portion; well stood out in't.  
Methinks I see him caper at that news,  
And in the full cry, Oh! This brought about  
And wittily dissembled on both parts;  
You to affect his love he to love yours;  
I'll so beguile the Father at the marriage,  
That each shall have his own, and both being welcomed,  
And chambered in one house; as 'tis his pride  
To have his children's children got successively  
On his forefathers Feather beds, in the day time's  
To please the old man's eye sight, you may dally,  
And set a kiss on the wrong Lip, no sin in't.  
Brothers and sisters do't, Cousins do more:  
But pray take heed you be not kin to them,  
So in the night time, nothing can deceive you,  
Let each know his own work, and there I leave you.   Sandf. 
Let me applaud thee.  Phil. 

Blessed be all thy ends,  
That mak'st armed enemies, embracing friends.  
About it speedily.   Exit. Sav. 

I need no pricking;  
I'm of that mettle, so well paced, and free,  
There's no good riders that use spur to me.  
Oh! are you come?   Enter Grace Twilight. Grace. 
Are any comforts coming?  Sav. 
I never go without 'em.  Grace. 
Thou sportest joys, that utterance cannot perfect.  Sav. 
Hark, are they risen!  Grace. 

Yes, long before I left 'em,  
And all intend to bring the Widow homeward.   Sav. 

Depart then Mistress to avoid suspect,  
Our good shall arrive time enough at your heart:  
Poor fools that ever more take a green surfeit  
Of the first-fruits of joys— Let a man but shake the Tree,  
How soon they'll hold up their laps to receive comfort!  
The music that I struck, made her soul dance; Peace—   Enter the Lady Widow Golden-fleece with Sir Gilbert Lambston, Mr. Pepperton, Mr. Overdon, suiters; after them the two old men, Sir Oliver Twilight, and Mr. Sunset, with their Daughters, Grace Twilight, Jane Sunset. 

Here comes the Lady Widow, the late wife  
To the deceased Sir Avarice Golden-fleece,  
Second to none for Usury and Extortion,  
As too well it appears on a poor Gentleman,  
One Mr. Low-water, from whose estate  
He pulled that Fleece, that makes his Widow weight;  
Those are her suitors now, Sir Gilbert Lambston, Mr. Pepperton, Mr. Overdon.   Wid. 
Nay good Sir Oliver Twilight, Mr. Sunset, We'll trouble you no farther.  Suns. 
Sir Oliv. No trouble sweet Madam.  Lamb. 
We'll see the Widow at home, it shall be our charge that.  Wid. 

It shall be so indeed; Thanks good Sir Oliver, and to you both,  
I am indebted for those courtesies  
That will ask me a long time to requite.   Sir Oliver. 
Ah, 'tis but your pleasant condition to give it out so Madam!  Wid. 

Mistress Grace and Mistress Jane, I wish you both  
A fair contented Fortune in your choices,  
And that you happen right.   Both. 

Thanks to you good Madam:  
There's more in that word right than you imagine.   Wid. 

I now repent, Girls, a rash oath I took  
When you were both Infants, to conceal a Secret.   Grace 
What dost concern good Madam?  Wid. 

No, no; since you are both so well, 'tis well enough;  
It must not be revealed; 'tis now no more  
Than like mistaking of one hand for tother.  
A happy time to you both.   Both. 
The like to you Madam.  Grace. 
I shall long much to have this Riddle opened?  Jane. 

I would you were so kind to my poor Kinswoman,  
And the distressed Gentleman her husband,  
Poor Mr. Low-water, who on ruin leans;  
You keep this Secret, as you keep his means▪  
Thanks good Sir Oliver Twilight,  
Welcome sweet Mr. Pepperton,  
Mr. Overdon, welcome.   Exeunt. Manet Sir Oliver with Savorwit. Sir Oliv. 
And, goes the business well 'twixt those young lovers?  Sav. 

Betwixt your son and Mr. Sunset's daughter  
The Line goes even Sir.   Sir Oliv. 
Good Lad, I like thee.  Sav. 

But Sir, there's no proportion, height, or evenness  
Betwixt that Equinoctial and your Daughter.   Sir Oliv. 
'Tis true, and I'm right glad on't▪  Sav. 

Are you glad Sir?  
There's no proportion in't.   Sir Oliv. 

I marry am I Sir▪  
I can abide no word that ends in Portion;  
I'll give her nothing.   Sav. 

Say you should not Sir,  
As I'll ne'er urge your worship 'gainst your nature;  
Is there no Gentleman think you, of worth and credit,  
Will open's Bed to warm a naked Maid?  
A hundred gallant fellows, and be glad  
To be so set a work: Virginity  
Is no such cheap Ware, as you make account on,  
That it had need with portion be set off;  
For that sets off a portion in these days.   Sir Oliv. 

Play on, sweet Boy; O I could hear this music all day long▪  
When there's no money to be parted from! strike on, good Lad.   Sav. 

Do not wise men and great, often bestow  
Ten thousand pound in Jewels that lie by 'em?  
If so, what Jewel can lie by a man  
More precious than a Virgin? if none more precious,  
Why should the Pillow of a fool be graced  
With that brave Spirits with dearness have imb aced?  
And then perhaps ere the third Spring come on,  
Sends home your Diamond cracked, the beauty gone.  
And more to know her, 'cause you shall not doubt her,  
A number of poor Sparks twinkling about her:   Sir Oliv. 
Now thou playest Dowlands Lachrymae to thy Master.  Sav. 

But shall I dry your eyes with a merry jig now,  
And make you look like sunshine in a shower?   Sir Oliv. 
How, how, my honest Boy, sweet Savorwit!  Sav. 
Young Mr: Sandfield, gallant Mr. Sandfield,  Sir Oliv. 
Ha ● what of him?  Sav. 
Affects your daughter strangely.  Sir Oliv. 

Brave Mr. Sandfield! let me hug thy zeal  
Unto thy Master's house; ha Mr. Sandfield!  
But he'll expect a portion.   Sav. 

Not a whit Sir,  
As you may use the matter.   Sir Oliver. 

Nay, and the matter fall into my using  
The Devil a penny that he gets of me.   Sav. 
He lies at the mercy of your Lock and Key Sir; you may use him as you list.  Sir Oliv. 
Sayst thou me so? is he so far in doing?  Sav. 
Quite over head and ears Sir; nay more, he means to run mad, and break his Neck off some high Steeple, if he have her not:  Sir Oliv. 
Now bless the young gentleman's Gristles; I hope to be a grandfather yet by 'em.  Sav. 

That may you Sir, to marry a chopping Girl with a plump Buttock,  
Will hoist a Fartingal at five years old,  
And call a man between eleven and twelve  
To take part of a piece of Mutton with her.   Sir Oliv. 
Ha precious Wag! hook him in finely, do.  Sav. 
Make clear the way for him first, set the Gull going.  Sir Oliv. 
An Ass, an Ass, I'll quickly dash his wooing.  Sav. 

Why now the clocks go right again; it must be a strange wit  
That makes the wheels of youth and age so hit;  
The one are dry, worn, rusty, fured, and soiled;  
Loves wheels are glib, ever kept clean, and oiled.   Exit. Sir Oliv. 

I cannot choose but think of this good Fortune,  
That gallant Mr. Sandfield!   Enter Weather-wise. Weath. 
Stay, stay, stay!  
What comfort gives my almanac to day?  
Luck I beseech thee, good days, evil days, June, July; Speak a good word for me now, and I have her; let me see, the fifth day 'twixt Hawk and Buzzard; the sixth day backward and forward; that was beastly to me, I remember; the seventh day on a slippery pin; the eight day fire and tow; the nineth day, the Market is marred, that's long of the Hucksters I warrant you; but now the tenth day, luck I beseech thee now, before I look into't; the eleventh day, against the hair; a Pox on't, would that hair had been left out; against the hair! that hair will go nigh to choke me; had it been against any thing but that, 'twould not have troubled me, because it lies cross i'th' way. Well, I'll try the fortune of a good face yet, though my almanac leave me i'th' Sands.  Sir Oliv. 
Such a match too, I could not wish a better!  Weath. 
Mass, here he walks! Save you sweet Sir Oliver,— Sir Oliver Twilight.  Sir Oliv. 
Oh pray come to me a quarter of a year hence; I have a little business now.  Weath. 
How a quarter of a year hence? what shall I come to you in September?  Sir Oliv. 
Nor in November neither, good my Friend.  Weath. 
You're not a mad Knight; you will not let your daughter hang past August, will you? she'll drop down under Tree then: She's no Winter fruit I assure you, if you think to put her in crust after Christmas?  Sir Oliv. 

Sir, in a word, depart; my Girl's not for you,  
I gave you a drowsy promise in a dream,  
But broad awake now, I call't in again.  
Have me commended to your wit, farewel Sir.   Weath. 
Now the Devil run away with you, and some lousy fiddler with your daughter: May Clarkenwell have the first cut of her, and Hounds-ditch pick the Bones. I'll never leave the love of an open hearted Widow, for a narrow-eyed Maid again; go out of the road way like an Ass, to leap over Hedge and Ditch; I'll fall into the beaten path again, and invite the Widow home to a Banquet; let who list seek out new ways, I'll be at my journey's end before him; My almanac told me true, how I should fare, Let no man think to speed against the hair.  Exit. Enter Mistress Low-water. Mrs Low. 

Is there no Saving-means? no help Religious  
For a distressed Gentlewoman to live by?  
Has Virtue no Revenue? who has all then?  
Is the world's lease from Hell, the devil's Head-landlord?  
Oh how was Conscience the right Heir put by?  
Law would not do such an unrighteous deed,  
Though with the fall of Angels t'had been feed.  
Where are our hopes in banks? was honesty  
A younger sister, without portion left,  
No dowry in the Chamber, beside wantonness?  
O miserable Orphan! 'twixt two extremes runs there no blessed Mean,  
No comfortable strain that I may kiss it?  
Must I to whoredom, or to beggary lean,  
My mind being sound? is there no way to miss it?  
Is't not injustice, that a Widow laughs  
And lays her mourning part upon a wife?  
That she should have the garment, I the heart;  
My wealth her Uncle left her, and me her grief.  
Yet stood all miseries in their loathedest forms  
On this hand of me, thick like a fowl mist,  
And here the bright enticements of the world,  
In clearest colours, flattery, and advancement,  
And all the bastard-glories this frame jets in  
Horror, nor splendour, shadows fair nor fowl  
Should force me shame my husband, wound my soul.   Enter Mistress Jane, Sunsets Daughter. 

Cousin, you're welcome; this is kindly done of you  
To visit the despised▪   Jane. 

I hope not so cousin,  
The want of means cannot make you despised;  
Love, not by wealth, but by desert is prized.   Mrs Low. 
You're pleased to help it well cousin.  Jane. 

I am come to you,  
Beside my visitation, to request you  
To lay your wit to mine, which is but simple,  
And help me to untie a few dark words  
Made up in knots, they're of the Widows knitting,  
That ties all sure; for my wit has not strength  
Nor cunning to unloose 'em.   Mrs Low. 

Good! what are they?  
Though there be little comfort of my help▪   Jane. 

She wished Sir Oliver's daughter and myself  
Good fortune in our choices, and repent her  
Of a rash oath she took when we were both Infants,  
A secret to cozceal; but since all's well,  
She holds it best to keep it unrevealed.  
Now what this is, Heaven knows.   Mrs Low. 

Nor can I guess  
The course of her whole life, and her dead husbands,  
Was ever full of such dishonest riddles,  
To keep right heirs from knowledge of their own:  
And now I'm put i'th' mind on't, I believe  
It was some price of Land or money given  
By some departing friend upon their deathbed,  
Perhaps to yourself; and Sir Oliver's daughter  
May wrongfully enjoy it, and she hired  
( For she was but an hireling in those days)  
To keep the injury secret.   Jane. 

The most likeliest  
That ever you could think on.   Mrs Low. 
Is it not?  Jane. 

Sure cousin, I think you have untied the knot:  
My thoughts lie at more ease, as in all other things,  
In this I thank your help, and may you live  
To conquer your own troubles, and cross ends,  
As your are ready to supply your friends.   Mrs Low. 

I thank you for the kind truth of your heart,  
In which I flourish when all means depart:  
Sure in that oath of hers there sleeps some wrong  
Done to my Kinswoman.   Enter Footman. Jane. 
who'd you speak withal?  Footm 
The Gentlewoman of this house, forsooth▪  Jane 
Whose Footman are you?  Footm. 
One Sir Gilbert Lambstons—.  Jane. 
Sir Gilbert Lambstons— there my Cousin walks.  Footm. 
Thank your good worship.  Mrs Low. 
How now, whence are you?  Footm. 
This Letter will make known.  Mrs Low. 
Whence comes it Sir?  Footm. 
From the Knight my Master, Sir Gilbert Lambston.  Mrs Low. 
Returned, I'll receive none on't.  Footm. 
There it must lie then; I were as good run to Tyburn afoot, and hang myself at mine own charges, as carry it back again.  Exit. Mrs Low. 

Life, had he not his answer? What strange impudence  
Governs in man, when Lust is Lord of him?  
Thinks he me mad? cause I have no moneys on Earth▪  
That I'll go forfeit my estate in Heaven,  
And live eternal Beggar? he shall pardon me,  
That's my soul's jointure, I'll starve ere I sell that.  
Oh is he gone, and left the Letter here!  
Yet I will read it, more to hate the writer.   
Mistress Low▪ water.  
IF you desire to understand your own comfort, hear me out, ere you refuse me; I'm in the way now to d ub e the yearly means that first I offered you, and to stir you more to me, I'll empty your enemy's Bags to maintain you; for the rich Widow, the Lady Golden-fleece, to whom I have been a longer suitor, than you a longer adversary, hath given me so much encouragement lately, insomuch that I am perfectly assured, the next meeting strikes the bargain: The happiness that follows this, 'twere idle to inform you of, only consent to my desires, and the widow's Notch shall lie open to you. Thus much to your heart, I know y'●e wise, farewell.  
Thy Friend to his power, and fewer Gilbert Lambston:  

In this poor Brief, what Volumes has he thrust,  
Of treacherons Purjury, and adulterous Lust!  
So foul a Monster does this wrong appear,  
That I give pity to mine enemy here  
What a most fearful love reigns in some hearts,  
That dare oppose all judgement to get means,  
And wed rich Widows, only to keep Queans;  
What a strange path he takes to my affection,  
And thinkest the nearest way; 'twill never be;  
Goes through mine enemy's ground to come to me.  
This Letter is most welcome; I repent now,  
That my last anger threw thee at my feet,  
My bosom shall receive thee.   Enter Sir Gilbert Lambston. Lambst 

'Tis good policy too,  
To keep one that so mortally hates the Widow;  
She'll have more care to keep it close herself,  
And look what wind her revenge goes withal,  
The selfsame gale whisks up the sails of love;  
I shall lose much good sport by that: Now my sweet Mistress.   Mrs Low. 

Sir Gilbert! you change suitors oft,  
You were here in black but lately.   Lambst 
My mind ne'er shifts though.  Mrs Low. 

A foul mind the whilst:  
But sure Sir, this is but a dissembling Glass  
You sent before you; 'tis not possible  
Your heart should follow your hand.   Lambst. 
Then may both perish.  Mrs Lambst. 

Do not wish that so soon Sir; Can you make  
A three month's love to a rich widow's Bed,  
And lay her pillow under a Queans head?  
I know you can't, how e'er you may dissembleed;  
You have a heart brought up better.   Lambst. 

Faith you wrong me in't,  
You shall not find it so; I do protest to thee,  
I will be Lord of all my promises,  
And ere't be long, thou shalt but turn a key,  
And find 'em in thy coffer; for my love  
In matching with the Widow, is but policy  
To strengthen my estate, and make me able  
To set off all thy kisses with rewards,  
That the worst weather our delights behold,  
It may hail Pearl, and shower the widow's Gold.   Mrs Low. 
You talk of a brave world Sir.  Lambst. 

'Twill seem better  
When golden happiness breaks forth itself  
Out of the vast part of the widow's Chamber.   Mrs Low. 
And here it sets.  Lambst. 

Here shall the downfall be,  
Her wealth shall rise from her, and set in thee.   Mrs Low. 

You men have th'art to overcome poor women.  
Pray give my thoughts the freedom of one day,  
And all the rest take you.   Lambst. 
I straight obey; this Bird's my own▪  Exit Sir Gilbert Lambston. Mrs Low. 

There is no happiness but has her season,  
Herein the brightness of her virtue shines,  
The husk falls off in time that long shuts up  
The fruit in a dark prison; so sweeps by  
The cloud of miseries from wretches eyes,  
That yet, though fallen, at length they see to rise,  
The secret powers work wondrously, and duly.   Enter Master Low-water. Mr Low. 
Why how now Kate?  Mrs Low. 

Oh are you come Sir? Husband,  
Wake, wake, and let not patience keep thee poor,  
Rouse up thy spirit from this falling slumber;  
Make thy distress seem but a weeping dream,  
And this the opening morning of thy comforts,  
Wipe the Salt dew off from thy careful eyes,  
And drink a draught of gladness next thy heart,  
T'expel the infection of all poisonous sorrows.   Mr Low. 
You turn me past my senses:  Mrs Low. 

Will you but second  
The purpose I intend, I'll be first forward;  
I crave no more of thee but a following spirit;  
Will you but grant me that?   Mr Low. 

Why, what's the business  
That should transport thee thus!   Mrs Low. 

Hope of much good, no fear of the least ill;  
Take that to comfort thee.   Mr Low. 
Yea?  Mrs Low. 

Sleep not on't, this is no slumbering business,  
'Tis like the sweeting sickness; I must keep  
Your eyes still wake, you're gone if once you sleep.   Mr Low. 
I will not rest then, till thou hast thy wishes.  Mrs Low. 
Peruse this love paper as you go.  Mr Low. 
A Letter?  Exeunt. Enter Sir Oliver Twilight, with Mr Sandfield, Philip, and Savorwit. Sir Oliv. 

Good Mr Sandfield, for the great affection  
You bear toward my Girl, I am well pleased  
You should enjoy her Beauty; Heaven forbid Sir,  
That I should cast away a proper Gentleman,  
So far in love with a sour mood, or so.  
No, no, I'll not die guilty of a Lovers Neck-cracking.  
Marry, as for portion, there I leave you Sir  
To the mercy of your destiny again,  
I'll have no hand in that.   Sandf 

Faith something Sir;  
Be't but t'express your love.   Sir Oliv. 

I have no desire Sir  
To express my love that way, and so rest satisfied;  
I pray take heed in urging that too much  
You draw not my love from me.   Sandf. 
Fates foresee Sir.  Sir Oliv. 

Faith then you may go, seek out a high Steeple,  
Or a deep water, there's no saving of you.   Sav: 
How naturally he plays upon himself!  Sir Oliv. 

Marry if a wedding dinner, as I told you,  
And three years' board, well lodged in mine house,  
And eating, drinking, and a sleeping portion  
May give you satisfaction, I am your man Sir,  
Seek out no other.   Sandf. 

I am content to embrace it Sir,  
Rather than hazard languishment, or ruin.   Sir Oliv. 

I love thee for thy wisdom; such a Son in law  
Will cheer a father's heart. Welcome sweet Master Sandfield,  
Whether away boys, Philip?   Enter Philip. Phil. 

To visit my Love Sir,  
Old Mr. Sunset's Daughter.   Sir Oliv. 

That's my Philip,  
Plied hard, my good boys both, put'em to't finely.  
One day, one dinner, and one house shall join you.   Both. 
That's our desire Sir.  Exeunt. Sir Oliv. 

Pish; come hither Savorwit.  
Observe my son, and bring me word, sweet boy,  
Whether h'as a speeding wit or no in wooing.   Sav. 

That will I Sir;— that your own eyes might tell you,  
I think it speedy, your Girl has a round belly.   Exit Savorwit. Sir Oliv. 

How soon the comfortable shine of joy  
Breaks through a cloud of grief!  
The tears that I let fall for my dead wife,  
Are dried up with the beams of my Girls fortunes.  
Her life, her death, and her ten years' distress,  
Are ev'n forgot with me; the love and care  
That I ought her, her daughter shows it all;  
I'll but be bestowed, and there 'tis well.   Enter Servant. Sir Oliv. 
How now, what news?  Serv. 

There's a Dutch Merchant Sir, that's now come over,  
Desires some conference with you.   Sir Oliv. 

How, a Dutch Merchant?  
Pray send him into me,— what news with him trow?   Enter Dutch Merchant, with a little Dutch Boy in Great slops. Dutch Merch. 
Sir Oliver Twilight!  Sir Oliv. 

That's my name indeed Sir,  
I pray be covered Sir, you're very welcome.   Dutch M. 

This is my business Sir; I took into my charge  
A few words to deliver to yourself  
From a dear friend of yours, that wonders strangely  
At your unkind neglect.   Sir Oliv. 
Indeed? what might he be Sir.  Dutch M. 
Nay, you're i'th' wrong gender now,— 'Tis that distressed Lady, your good wife Sir.  Sir Oliv. 
What say you Sir, my wife?  Dutch M. 

Yes Sir, your wife!  
This strangeness now of yours seems more to harden  
Th'uncharitable neglect she taxed you for.   Sir Oliv. 
Pray give me leave Sir, is my wife alive?  Dutch M. 
Came any news to you Sir, to th'contrary?  Sir Oliv. 
Yes by my faith did there.  Dutch M. 
Pray how long since Sir?  Sir Oliv. 
'Tis now some ten weeks.  Dutch M. 

Faith within this month Sir,  
I saw her talk and eat; and those in our calendar  
Are signs of life and health.   Sir Oliv. 
Mass so they are in ours.  Dutch M. 

And these were the last words her passion threw me.  
No grief, quoth she, sits to my heart so close  
As his unkindness, and my daughter's loss.   Sir Oliv. 

You make me weep, and wonder, for I swear  
I sent her ransom, and that daughter's here.   Dutch M. 

Here! that will come well to lighten her of one grief.  
I long to see her for the piteous moan  
Her Mother made for her.   Sir Oliv. 
That shall you Sir.— Within there!  Serv. 
Sir.  Sir Oliv. 
Call down my daughter.  Serv. 
Yes Sir.  Sir Oliv. 

Here's strange budgelling; I tell you Sir,  
Those that I put in trust, were near me too,  
A man would think they should not juggle with me;  
My own son, and my servant, no worse people Sir.   Dutch M. 

And yet ofttimes Sir, what worse Knave to a man  
Than he that eats his meat?   Sir Oliv. 

Troth you say true Sir;  
I sent 'em simply, and that news they brought,  
My wife had left the world, and with that Son  
I sent to her, this brought his sister home:  
Look you Sir, this is she.   Enter Grace. Dutch M. 

If my eye sin not Sir,  
Or misty error falsify the glass,  
I saw that face at Antwerp in an Inn  
When I set forth first to fetch home this boy.   Sir Oliv. 
How, in an Inn?  Grace. 
Oh I am betrayed I fear.  Dutch M. 
How do you young Mistress?  Grace. 

Your eyes wrong your tongue Sir,  
And makes you sin in both; I am not she.   Dutch M. 

No? then I never saw face twice▪ Si Olive Twilight  
I tell you my free thoughts, I fear you're blinded;  
I do not like this story; I doubt much  
The sister is as false as the dead mother:   Sir Oliv. 

Ye! say you so Sir? I see nothing lets me, but to doubt so too then:  
So, to your Chamber, we have done with you.   Grace. 

I would be glad you had; here's a strange storm.  
Sift it out well Sir; till anon I leave you Sir.   Dutch M. 

Business commands me hence, but as a pledge  
Of my return, I'll leave my little son with you,  
Who yet takes little pleasure in this Country,  
Cause he can speak no English, all Dutch he▪   Sir Oliv. 
A fine boy, he's welcome Sir to me.  Dutch M. 
Where', your leg, and your thanks to the Gentleman.  Dutch Boy. 

War es you neighgen an you thonkes you.  
Ick donck you, ver ewe Edermon urendly Kite.   Sir Oliv. 
What says he Sir?  Dutch M. 
He thanks you for your kindness.  Sir Oliv. 
Pretty Knave!  Dutch M. 

Had not some business held me by the way,  
This news had come to your ear ten days ago.   Sir Oliv. 
It comes too soon now methinks; I'm your debtor.  Dutch M. 
But I could wish it Sir for better ware:  Exit. Sir Oliv: 

We must not be our own choosers in our fortunes:  
Here's a cold pie to breakfast: Wife alive,  
The daughter doubtful, and the money spent!  
How am I juggled withal?   Enter Savorwit. Sav 

It hits i'faith Sir,  
The work goes even.   Sir Oliv. 
Oh come, come, come, are you come Sir!  Sav. 
Life, what's the matter now?  Sir Oliv. 
There's a new reckoning come in since.  Sav. 
Pox on't, I thought all had been paid, I can't abide these after-reckonings.  Sir Oliv. 

I pray come near Sir, let's be acquainted with you,  
Your bold enough abroad with my purse Sir.   Sav. 
No more than beseems manners and good use Sir:  Sir Oliv. 

Did not you bring me word some ten weeks since.  
My wife was dead?   Sav. 
Yes, true Sir, very true Sir.  Sir Oliv. 

Pray stay, and take my horse along with you,  
And with the ransom that I sent for her  
That you redeemed my daughter:   Sav. 

Right as can be Sir,  
I never found your worship in a false tale yet:   Sir Oliv. 

I thank you for your good word Sir; but I'm like  
To find your worship now in two at once:   Sav. 
I should be sorry to hear that▪  Sir Oliv. 

I believe you Sir,  
Within this month my wife was sure alive.  
There's six weeks bated of your ten week's lie,  
As has been credibly reported to me  
By a Dutch Merchant, Father to that boy  
But now come over, and the words scarce cold.   Sav. 
O strange!— 'tis a most rank untruth; where is he Sir?  Sir Oliv. 
He will not be long absent.  Sav. 

All's confounded.  
If he were here, I'll tell him to his face Sir,  
He wears a double tongue; that's Dutch and English—  
Will the Boy say't?   Sir Oliv. 
'Lass he can speak no English.  Sav. 
All the better, I'll gabble something to him. hoist Kaloiste, Kalooskin●e vou, dar sune, Alla Gaskin?  Dutch Boy. 
Ick wet neat watt hey zackt, Ick unverston ewe neat.  Sav. 
Why lafoy, I thought as much!  Sir Oliv. 
What says the Boy?  Sav. 
He says his Father is troubled with an imperfection at one time of the Moon, and talks like a madman.  Sir Oliv: 
What does the Boy say so?  Sav. 

I knew there was somewhat in't;  
Your wife alive! Will you believe all tales Sir?   Sir Oliv. 

Nay more Sir, he told me, he saw this wench  
Which you brought home, at Antwerp in an Inn;  
Tell me, I'm plainly cozened of all hands,  
'Tis not my daughter neither.   Sav. 
All's broke out.  
How? not your daughter Sir? I must to'● again. Quisquinikin Sa●lamare, alla piss kickin Sows-clows, Hoff Tofte le cumber shaw, bouns bus bexsceeno.  Dutch Boy. 
Ick an sawth no in't hein clappon de heeke, I dinke ute zein zennon.  Sav. 
Oh zein zennon! Ah ha, I thought how 'twould prove i'th' end; the Boy says they never came near Antwerp, a quite contrary way, round about by Parma.  Sir Oliv. 
What's the same zein zennon?  Sav. 
That is, he saw no such wench in an Inn; 'tis well I came in such happy time to get it out of the Boy before his Father returned again; pray be wary Sir; the world's subtle, come and pretend a charitable business in policy, and work out a piece of money on you.  Sir Oliv. 
Mass, art advised of that?  Sav. 
The Age is cunning Sir, beside a Dutchman will live upon any ground, and work Butter out of a Thistle.  Sir Oliv: 

Troth thou sayst true in that, they're the best thrivers  
In Turnips, Hartichalks, and Cabishes:  
Our English are not like them.   Sav. 
O fie, no Sir!  Sir Oliv. 
Ask him from whence they came, when they came hither.  Sav. 
That I will Sir,— Culluaron lagooso, lageen, lagan, rufft, punkatee.  Dutch Boy. 
Nimmed aweigh de cack.  Sav. 
What, what, I cannot blame him then?  Sir Oliv. 
What says he to thee?  Sav. 
The poor Boy blushes for him; he tells me his Father came from making merry with certain of his Countrymen, and he's a little steeped in English Beer; there's no heed to be taken of his tongue now.  Sir Oliv. 
Hoyda! how com'st thou by all this, I heard him speak but three words to thee?  Sav. 
O Sir, the Dutch is a very wide Language; you shall have ten English words even for one; as for example, gulldergoose, there's a word for you Master.  Sir Oliv. 
Why what's that same gulldergoose?  Sav 
How do you and all your generation—  Sir Oliv. 
Why 'tis impossible? how prove you that Sir?  Sav. 
'Tis thus distinguished; Sir, Gull, how do you? Der, and; Goose, your generation.  Sir Oliv: 
'Tis a most saucy Language, how cam'st thou by't?  Sav. 

I was brought up to London in an Eelship;  
There was the place I caught it first by th'tale:  
I shall be tripped anon; Pox, would I were gone.  
I'll go seek out your son Sir, you shall hear  
What thunder he'll bring with him.   Sir Oliv. 

Do, do Savorwit,  
I'll have you all face to face.   Sav. 

Cuds me, what else Sir?  
And you take me so near the net again,  
I'll give you leave to squat me; I have scaped fairly.  
We are undone in Dutch; all our three month's roguery  
Is now come over in a Butter Firkin.   Exit Savorwit. Sir Oliv. 

Never was man so tossed between two tales!  
I know not which to take, not which to trust;  
The Boy here is the likeliest to tell truth,  
Because the world's corruption is not yet  
At full years in him; sure he cannot know  
What deceit means, 'tis English yet to him.  
And when I think again, why should the Father  
Dissemble for no profit? he gets none,  
What ere he hopes for, and I think he hopes not.  
The man's in a good case, being old and weary,  
He dares not lean his arm on his son's shoulder,  
For fear he lie i'th' dirt, but must be rather  
Beholding to a stranger for his prop.   Enter Dutchman. Dutch M. 
I make bold once again Sir for a Boy here.  Sir Oliv. 

O Sir you're welcome, pray resolve me one thing Sir:  
Did you within this month, with your own eyes,  
See my wife living?   Dutch M. 

I ne'er borrowed any.  
Why should you move that question Sir? dissembling  
Is no part of my living.   Sir Oliv. 

I have reason  
To urge it so far Sir( pray be not angry though)  
Because my man was here since your departure,  
Withstands all stiffly, and to make it clearer,  
Questioned your Boy in Dutch; who as he told me,  
Returned this answer first to him: That you  
Had imperfection at one time o'th' Moon,  
Which made you talk so strangely.   Dutch M. 
How, how's this! Zeicke▪ yongon, ick ben ick quelt medien dullek heght, ee untoit van the mon, an koot uramed.  Dutch Boy. 
We eke. heigh lieght in ze Bokkas, deeed site.  Dutch M. 

Why lafoy you Sir? here's no such thing,  
He says he lies in's throat that says it.   Sir Oliv. 

Then the Rogue lies in's throat, for he told me so,  
And that the boy should answer at next question,  
That you ne'er saw this wench, nor came near Antwerp.   Dutch M. 
Ten thousand Devils! Zeicke he ewe eke kneeght, yongon, that we neeky by Antwarpon ne don cammen no seen de daughter Dor.  Dutch Boy. 
Ick hub ham hean sulka dongon he zaut, hei es a● sk●llom an rubbout?  Dutch M. 
He says he told him no such matter he's a Knave and a Rascal.  Sir Oliv. 

Why, how am I abused? Pray tell me one thing,  
What's Gulldergoose in Dutch?   Dutch M. 
How Gulldergoose! there's no such thing in Dutch, it may be an Ass in English.  Sir Oliv. 
Hoyda! then am I that Ass in plain English; I am grossly cozened, most inconsiderately.  

Pray let my house receive you for one night,  
That I may quit these Rascals, I beseech you Sir.   Dutch M. 
If that may stead you Sir, I'll not refuse you.  Sir Oliv. 

A thousand thanks, and welcome:  
On whom can Fortune more spit out her foam,  
Worked on abroad, and played upon at home?   Exeunt.   

Act 2.  

Scaen 1.  Enter Weatherwise the Gull, meeting two or three bringing out a Table. Weath. 
SO, set the Table ready, the Widow's i'd●' next room, looking upon my Clock with the days and the months, and the change of the Moon: I'll fetch her in presently.  Clown. 
She's not so mad to be fetched in with the Moon, I warrant you: A man must go roundlier to work with a Widow, then to woo her with the Hand of a Dial, or stir up her Blood with the striking part of a clock, I should ne'er stand to show her such things in Chamber.  Exeunt. Enter Weatherwise with the Widow, Sir Gilbert Lambston, Mr. Pepperton, Mr. Overdon. Weath. 
Welcome sweet Widow to a bachelor's house here, a single man; I, but for two or three Maids that I keep.  Wid. 
Why are you double with them then?  Weath. 
An exceeding good mourning wit; Women are wiser than ever they were, since they wore Doublets.— You must think sweet Widow, if a man keep Maids, they're under his subjection.  Wid. 
That's most true Sir.  Weath. 
They have no reason to have a Lock, but the Master must have a Key to't.  Wid. 
To him Sir Gilbert, he fights with me at a wrong weapon now.  Weath. 

Nay, and Sir Gilbert strike, my weapon falls,  
I fear no thrust but his; here are more shooters,  
But they have shot two Arrows without heads,  
They cannot stick i'th' Butt yet; hold out Knight,  
And I'll cleave the black pin in' th' midst o'th' white.   Exit. Wid. 
Nay, and he led me into a Closet Sir, where he showed me diet drinks for several months, as Scurvigrass for April, Clarified Whey for June, and the like  Lambst. 
O Madam, he is a most necessary property— An't be but to save our credit, ten pound in a Banquet.  Wid. 
Go! you're a wag Sir Gilbert.  Lambst. 
How many there be in the world of his Fortunes, that prick their own Calves with briers, to make an easy passage for others; or like a toiling Usurer, sets his son a horseback in Cloth of Goldbreeches, while he himself goes ●'ch' Devil a foot in a pair of old Strossers.  

But shall I give a more familiar sign?  
His are the sweetmeats, but the kisses mine.   Overd. 
Excellent! a pox of your Fortune.  Peppert. 
Saucy courting has brought all modest wooing clean out of fashion: You shall have few Maids now a days got without rough handling; all the Towns so used to't, and most commonly too they're joined before they're married; because they'll be sure to be fast enough.  Overd. 

Sir, since he strives t'oppose himself against us,  
Le●'s so combine our friendships in our straits,  
By all means graceful to assist each other;  
For I protest it shall as much glad me  
To see your happiness, and his disgrace,  
As if the wealth were mine, the love, the place.   Peppert. 

And with the like faith I reward your friendship;  
I'll break the bawdy ranks of his discourse,  
And scatter his libidinous whispers straight, Madam!   Wid. 
How cheer you Gentlemen?  Lambst. 

Pox on 'em,  
They waked me out of a fine sleep, three minutes  
Had fastened all the treasure in mine arms.   Peppert. 
You took no note of this conceit, it seems, Madam.  Wid. 
Twelve Trenchers, upon every one a month, January, February, March, April——  Peppert. 
Ay, and their Poesies under 'em.  Wid. 

Pray what says May? she's the Spring Lady▪  
Now gallant May in her array▪  
Doth make the field pleasant and gay.   Overd. 

This month of June use clarified Whey,  
Boiled with cold herbs, and drink always.   Wid. 
Drink't all away, he should say?  Peppert. 
'Twere mach better indeed, and wholesomer for his Liver.  Lambst. 
September's a good one here Madam—  Wid. 
Oh have you chose your month, let's hear't Sir Gilbert!  Lambst. 

Now Mayest thou physics safely take,  
And bleed, and bathe for thy health's sake.  
Eat Figs and Grapes, and spicery,  
For to refresh thy Members dry.   Wid. 
Thus it is still, when a man's simple meaning lights among wantoness; how many honest words have suffered corruption, since Chaucer's days? A Virgin would speak those words then, that a very Midwife would blush to hear now, if she have but so much blood left to make up an ounce of grace. And who is this long on, but such wags as you, that use your words like your wenches? you cannot let 'em pass honestly by you, but you must still have a flirt at 'em.  Peppert. 
You have paid some of us home, Madam.  Enter Weatherwise. Weath. 
If conceit will strike this stroke, have at the widow's Plumb-tree; I'll put 'em down all for a Banquet. Widow and Gentlemen, my Friends and Servants, I make you wait long here for a bachelor's pittance.  Wid. 
O Sir, you're pleased to be modest.  Weath. 
No by my troth, Widow, you shall find it otherwise.  Strike music. Enter Banquet, and six of his Tenants with the Twelve Signs, made like Banquetting-stuff. Aries, Taurus', Gemini, Cancer, Leo, Virgo, Libra, Scorpio, Sagittarius, Capricorn, Aquarius, and Pisces. Wid. 
What the Twelve Signs!  Weath. 
These are the Signs of my love, Widow▪  Wid. 

Worse meat would have served us Sir; by my Faith  
I'm sorry you should be at such charges Sir,  
To feast us a whole month together here.   Weath. 
Widow, thou'rt welcome a whole month, and ever.  Wid. 
And what be those Sir that brought in the Banquet?  Weath. 
Those are my Tenants, they stand for Fasting days.  Lambst. 
Or the six weeks in Lent.  Weath. 

you're i'th' right Sir Gilbert.  
Sweet Widow take your place at Aries here,  
That's the head Sign—, a Widow is the head  
Till she be married.   Wid. 
What is she then?  Weath. 
The middle.  Wid. 
'Tis happy she's no worse.  Weath. 

Taurus', Sir Gilbert Lambston that's for you;  
They say you're a good Town▪ Bull.   Lambst. 
O spare your friend's Sir.  Weath. 

And Gemini for Master Pepperton,  
He had two boys at once by his last wife.   Peppert. 
I hear the Widow find no fault with that Sir.  Weath. 

Cancer the Crab for Master Overdon';  
For when a thing's past fifty, it grows crooked.   Wid. 
Now for yourself Sir.  Weath. 
Take no care for me Widow,  
I can be anywhere; here's Leo, heart and hack, Virgo, guts and belly; I can go lower yet, and yet fare better, sense Sagittarius fits me the thighs; I care not if I be about the thighs, I shall find meat enough  Wid. 

But under pardon Sir,  
Though you be Lord o'th' Feast, and the conceit both,  
Methinks it had been proper for the Banquet  
To have had the Signs all filled, and no one idle.   Weath. 
I know it had; but whose fault's that Widow? you should have got you more Suitors to have stopped the gaps.  Wid. 

Nay sure, they should get us, and not we them;  
There be your tenant's Sir; we are not proud,  
You may bid them sit down.   Weath. 
By th'mass it's true too,  
Then sit down Tenants once with your hats on, but spare the meat, I charge you, as you hope for new Leases: I must make my Signs draw out a month yet, with a bit every morning to breakfast, and at Full Moon with a whole one; that's restorative; sit round, sit round, and do not speak sweet Tenants, you may be bold enough, so you eat but little; how like you this now Widow?  Wid. 

It shows well Sir,  
And like the good old Hospitable fashion.   Clow▪ 
How! like a good old Hospital; my Mistress▪ makes an arrant gull on him.  Wid. 
But yet methinks there wants clothes for the feet.  Weath. 
That part's uncovered yet,— push no matter for the feet.  Wid. 
Yes, if the feet catch cold, the head will feel it.  Weath. 
Why then you may draw up your legs, and lie rounder together.  Lambst. 
H'as answered you well Madam.  Weath. 
And you draw up your legs too, Widow, my Tenant will feel you there, for he's one of the Calves.  Wid. 
Better and better Sir, your wit fattens as he feeds.  Clow. 
Sh'as took the Calf from his Tenant, and put it upon his ground now.  Enter Mistress Low-water as a gallant Gentleman, her Husband like a servingman after her. Weath. 
How now my Lady's man, what's the news Sir!  Serv. 

Madam, there's a young Gentleman below,  
H'as earnest business to your ladyship   Weath. 
Another suitor I hold my life, Widow.  Wid. 
What is he Sir?  Serv. 

He seems a Gentleman,  
That's the least of him, and yet more I know not.   Wid. 

Under the leave o'th'▪ Master of the house here,  
I would he were admitted.   Weath. 

With all my heart, Widow, I fear him not,  
Come Cut and Long tail.   Lambst. 

I have the least fear,  
And the most firmness, nothing can shake me.   Weath. 
If he be a Gentleman, he's welcome; there's a Sign does nothing, and that's fit for a Gentleman; the feet will be kept warm enough▪ now ●●● you Widow; for if he be a right Gentleman, he has his stockings warmed, and he wears socks beside; partly for warmth, partly for cleanliness; and if he observe Fridays too, he comes excellent well. Pisces will be a fine Fish dinner for him.  Wid. 
Why then you mean Sir, he shall sit as he comes.  Weath. 
Ay, and he were a Lord, he shall not sit above my Tenants▪ I'll not have two Lords to them; so I may go look my rent in another man's Breeches; I was not brought up to be so unmannerly?  Enter Mistress Low-water. Mrs Low 
I have picked out a bold time; much good do you Gentlemen.  Weath. 
you're welcome as I may say Sir.  Mrs Low. 
Pardon my rudeness, Madam.  Wid. 

No such fault Sir;  
Your too severe to yourself, our judgement quits you.  
Please you to do as we do?   Mrs Low. 
Thanks good Madam.  Wid. 
Make room Gentlemen.  Weath 

Sit still Tenants, I'll call in all your old  
Leases, and rack you else.   All Tenants. 
Oh sweet Landlord.  Mrs Low. 
Take my cloak sirrah; if any be disturbed, I'll not sit Gentlemen,  
I see my place.  Weath. 
A proper woman turned gallant! if the Widow refuse me, I care not if I be a suitor to him: I have known those who have been as mad, and given half their living for a Male companion.  Mrs Low. 

How Pisces! is that mine?  
'Tis a concei●ed Banquet.   Weath. 
If you love any fish, pray fall to Sir; if you had come sooner, you might have happened among some of the flesh Signs, but now they're all taken up; Virgo had been a good dish for you, had not one of my Tenants been somewhat busy with her.  Mrs Low. 

Pray let him keep her Sir, give me meat fresh,  
I'd rather have whole fish then broken flesh.   Lambst. 
What say you to a bit of Taurus?  Mrs Low. 

No, I thank you Sir,  
The Bull's too rank for me.   Lambst. 
How Sir?  Mrs Low. 
Too rank Sir.  Lambst. 
Fie, I shall strike you dumb like all your fellows:  Mrs Low. 
What with your heels, or horns?  Lambst. 
Perhaps with both.  Mrs Low. 

It must be at dead Low-water,  
When I'm dead then.   Mr Low: 
'Tis a brave Kate, and nobly spoke of thee.  Weath. 
This quarrel must be drowned— Piccadill, my Lady's Fool!  Clow. 
Your, your own man Sir.  Weath. 
Prithee step in to one o'th' Maids.  Clow. 
That I will Sir, and thank you too.  Weath. 
Nay, hark you Sir, call for my Sun cup presently, I'd forgot it.  Clow. 
How, your Sun-cup? some cup I warrant that he stole out o'th' Sun-Tavern?  Wid. 

The more I look on him, the more I thirst for't;  
Methinks his beauty does so far transcend,  
Turns the Signs back, makes that the upper end;   Weath. 

How cheer you Widow? Gentlemen how cheer you?  
Fair weather in all quarters, the Sun will peep anon, I have sent one for him;  
In the mean time I'll tell you a tale of these.  
This Libra here that keeps the scale so even,  
Was i'th' old time an honest chandler's Widow,  
And had one daughter which was called Virgo,  
Which now my hungry Tenant has deflowered.  
This Virgo passing for a Maid, was sued to  
By Sagittarius there, a gallant shooter,  
And Aries his head-rival; but her old crabbed Uncle Cancer here, dwelling in Crooked lane,  
Still crossed the marriage minding to bestow her  
Upon one Scorpio, a rich Usurer;  
The girl loathing that match, fell into folly  
With one Taurus, a Gentleman in Townbul-street;  
By whom she had two twins, those Gemini there.  
Of which two brats, she was brought a bed in Leo,  
At the Red Lion about Tower-hill.  
Being in this distress, one Capricorn,  
An honest Citizen pitied her case, and married her to Aquarius, an old Water bearer,  
And Pisces was her living ever after,  
At Standard she sold fish, where he drew water.   All. 
It shall be yours Sir▪  Wid. 

Meat and mirth too, you're lavish!  
Your purse and tongue has been at cost to day Sir.   Lambst. 
You may challenge all comers at these twelve weapons I warrant you.  Enter Clown. Clow. 
Your Sun-cup call you it! 'tis a simple voyage that I have made here; I have left my Doublet within, for fear I should sweat through my Jerkin, and thrown a Cypress over my face for fear of Sun-burning.  Weath. 
How now, whose this? why sirrah.  Clow. 
Can you endure it Mistress?  Wid. 
Endure, what fool!  Weath. 
Fill the cup Coxcomb.  Clow. 
Nay an't be no hotter, I'll go put on my Doublet again.  Exit. Weath. 
What a whoreson-sot is this! prithee fill the cup fellow, and give't the Widow.  Mrs Low. 
Sirrah, how stand you? bestow your service there upon her ladyship.  Wid. 
What's here a Sun?  Weath. 

It does betoken Madam  
A cheerful day to some body?   Wid. 

It rises  
Full in the face of you fair Sign, and yet  
By course he is the last must feel the heat.  
Here Gentlemen to you all, for you know the Sun must go through the twelve Signs.   Weath. 

Most wittily Widow; you jump with my conceit right,  
There's not a hair between us.   Wid. 
Give it Sir Gilbert.  Lambst. 

I am the next through whom the golden flame  
Shines, when 'tis spent in thy Celestial Ram,  
The poor Feet there must wait and cool a while▪   Mrs Low. 

We have our Time Sir, Joy and we shall meet,  
I have known the proud Neck lie between the Feet.   Weath. 
So round it goes.  Enter Clown. Clow. 
I like this drinking world well.  Weath. 
So fill't him again.  Peppert. 
Filled me! why I drunk last Sir▪  Weath. 

I know you did, but Gemini must drink twice,  
Unless you mean that one of them shall be choked.   Wid. 

Fly from my heart all variable thoughts;  
She that's enticed by every pleasing object,  
Shall find small pleasure, and as little rest.  
This Knave hath loved me long, he's best and worthiest,  
I cannot but in honour see him requited— Sir Gilbert Lambston.   Mrs Low. 

How? pardon me sweet Lady,  
That with a bold tongue I strike by your words,  
Sir Gilbert Lambston?   Lambst. 
Yes Sir, that's my name.  Mrs Low. 

There should be a rank Villain of that name,  
Came you out of that house—   Lambst. 
How, Sir Slave!  Mrs Low. 
Fall to your Bull, leave roaring till anon:  Weath. 

Yet again! and you love me Gentlemen, let's have no roaring here.  
If I had thought that, I'd have sent my Bull to the Bear garden.   Peppert. 
Why so you should have wanted one of your Signs.  Weath. 
But I may chance want two now, and they fall together by the ears.  Wid. 

What's the strange fire that works in these two Creatures?  
Cold Signs both, yet more hot than all their fellows—   Weath. 
Ho Sol in Pisces! the Sun's in New Fish-street; here's an end of this course.  Clow. 
Madam, I am bold to remember your worship for a years' wages, and an Livery-cloak.  Wid: 
How, will you shame me, had you not both last week fool?  Clow. 
Ay, but there's another year past since that.  Wid. 
Would all your wit could make that good Sir.  Clow. 
I am sure the Sun has run through all the twelve Signs since, and that's a year, this Gentlemen can witness.  Weath. 
The fool will live Madam.  Clow. 
I as long as your eyes are open, I warrant him.  Mrs Low. 
Sirrah!  Mr Low. 
Does your worship call?  Mrs Low. 

Commend my love and service to the Widow,  
Desire her ladyship to taste that morsel.   Mr Low. 

This is the bit I watched for all this while;  
But it comes duly.   Lambst. 

And wherein has this name of mine offended,  
That you're so liberal of your infamous titles?  
I but a stranger to thee, it must be known Sir  
Ere we two part.   Mrs Low. 
Marry and reason good Sir.  Wid. 
O strike me cold— this should be your hand Sir Gilbert?  Lambst. 
Why, make you question of that Madam? 'tis one of the Letters I sent you.  Wid. 
Much good do you Gentlemen.  All. 
How now? what's the matter?  Weath. 
Look to the Widow, she paints white, some Aqua Coelist is for my Lady, run villain.  Clow. 
Aqua Solister; can no help her case but a Lawyer? and so many suitors here?  Wid. 
O treachery unma ch't, unheard of!  Lambst. 
How do you Madam?  Wid▪ 

Oh impudence as foul! does my disease  
Ask how I do? can it torment my heart,  
And look with a fresh colour in my face?   Lambst▪ 
What's this! what's this!  Weath. 
I am sorry for this qualm Widow.  Wid. 

He that would know a villain when he meets him,  
Let him ne'er go to a Conjurer; here's a glass  
Will show him without money, and far truer.  
Preferver of my state, pray tell me Sir,  
That I may pay you all my thanks together;  
What blessed hap brought that Letter to your hand  
From me, so fast locked in mine enemy's power?   Mrs Low. 

I will resolve you Madam: I have a Kinsman  
Somewhat infected with that wanton pity  
Which men bestow on the distress of women,  
Especially if they be fair and poor,  
With such hot Charity, which indeed is Lust;  
He sought t'entice, as his repentance told me,  
Her whom you call your enemy, the wife  
To a poor Gentleman, one Low▪ water.   Wid. 
Right, right the same.  Mr Low. 
Had it been right, 't'ad now been.  Mrs Low. 

And according to the common rate of sinners,  
Offered large maintenance, which with her seemed nothing;  
For if she would consent, she told him roundly,  
There was a Knight had bid more at one minute  
Then all his wealth could compass; and withal,  
Plucked out that Letter as it were in scorn;  
Which by good fortune he put up in jest,  
With promise that the Writ should be returnable  
The next hour of his meeting.( But sweet Madam)  
Out of my love and zeal, I did so practise  
The part upon him of an urgent wooer,  
That neither he nor that returned more to her.   Lambst. 
Plague a that Kinsman.  Weath. 
Here's a gallant Rascal!  Wid. 

Sir you have appeared so noble in this action,  
So full of worth and goodness, that my thanks  
Will rather shame the Bounty of my mind,  
Then do it honour: Oh thou treacherous villain!  
Does thy Faith bear such fruit? are these the blossoms of a hundred Oaths  
Shot from thy bosom? was thy love so spiteful,  
It could not be content to mock my heart,  
Which is in love, a misery too much,  
But must extend so far to the quick ruin  
Of what was painfully got, carefully left me;  
And 'mongst a world of yeilding-needy women,  
Choose no one to make merry with my sorrows,  
And spend my wealth on, in adulterous surfeits.  
But my most mortal enemy— O despightful!  
Is this thy practice? follow it, 'twill advance thee:  
Go, beguile on; have I so happily found  
What many a Widow has with sorrow tasted,  
Even when my Lip touched the contracting Cup,  
Even then to see the Spider; 'twas miraculous!  
Crawl with thy poisons hence, and for thy sake  
I'll never covet Titles, and more Riches,  
To fall into a gulf of hate and laughter:  
I'll marry Love hereafter, drop reg've enough;  
And wanting that, I have nothing— There's thy way.   Overd 
Do you hear Sir? you must walk.  Peppert. 
Hear't! thrust him down stairs.  Weath. 
Out of my house you treacherous, lecherous Rascal.  Lambst. 
All curses scatter you.  Weath. 
Life, do you thunder here; if you had stayed a little longer, I'd have ripped out some of my Bull out of your Belly again.  Peppert. 
'Twas a most noble discovery; we must love you for ever for't.  Wid. 

Sir, for your Banquet and your mirth we thank you;  
You Gentlemen, for your kind company:  
But you, for all my merry days to come,  
Or this had been the last else.   Mrs Low. 

Love and Fortune  
Had more care of your safety, peace and state Madam.   Weath. 
Now will I thrust in fo'rt.  Peppert. 
I'm for myself now.  Overd. 

What's fifty years? 'tis man's best time and season;  
Now the nights gone, the Widow will hear reason:   Mr Low. 

Now, now! the suitors flatter, hold on Kate,  
The Hen may pick the meat, while the Cocks prate.   Exeunt. Enter Mr Sandfield, Philip, Sir Oliver Twilights Son with Savorwit. Phil. 

If thou talk'st longer, I shall turn to Marble,  
And death will! stop my hearing▪   Sandf. 
Horrible fortune!  Sav. 

Nay Sir our building is so far defaced,  
There is no stuff left to raise up a hope.   Phil. 

Oh with more patience could my flesh endure  
A score of wounds, and all their several searchings,  
Then this that thou hast told me.   Sav. 

Would that Flemish Ram  
Had ne'er come near our house; there's no going home  
As long as he has a Nest there, and his young one  
A little Flanders Egg, new fleged: they gape for Pork, and I shall be made meat for'em.   Phil. 

'Tis not the bare news of my mother's life  
( May she live long and happy,) that afflicts me  
With half the violence that the latter draws;  
Though in that news I have my share of grief,  
As I had share of sin; and a foul neglect,  
It is my Loves betraying; that's the sting  
That strikes through flesh and spirit; and sense not wit  
From thee, in whom I ne'er saw ebb till now;  
Nor comforts from a faithful friend can ease me,  
I'll try the goodness of a third companion,  
What he'll do for me.   Sandf. 
Hold! why friend?  Sav. 
Why Master? is this all your kindness Sir: offer to steal into another Country, and ne'er take your leave on's: Troth, I take it unkindly at your hands Sir; but I'll put it up for once: Faith there was no Conscience in this Sir; leave me here to endure all weathers, whilst you make your foul d●●●●e like a juggler's Egg upon the point of a Rap●er▪ By my troth Sir, you're too blame in't; you might have given us an inkling of your journey; perhaps others would as fain have gone as you.  Phil. 

Burns this Clay-lamp of miserable life,  
When Joy, the oil that feeds it, is dried up?   Enter his Mother new landed, with a Gentleman a scholar, &c. Moth. 
He has removed his house.  Bev. 
So it seems, Madam.  Moth. 

I'll ask that Gentleman;— pray can you tell me Sir  
Which is Sir Oliver Twilights?   Phil. 

Few can better, Gentlewoman;  
It is the next fair house your eye can fix on.   Moth. 
I thank you Sir, go on, he had a son about some ten years since.  Phil. 
That son still lives.  Moth 
I pray how does he Sir?  Phil. 

Faith much about my health,( that's never worse)  
If you have any business to him, Gentlewoman,  
I can cut short your journey to the house;  
I'm all that ever was of the same kind.   Moth. 

Oh my sweet son! never fell fresher joy  
Upon the heart of Mother; this is he Sir!   Bev. 
My seven years' travel has e'en worm him out Of my remembrance.  Sav. 
Oh this geers worse and worse!  Phil. 

I am so wonder-struck at your blessed presence,  
That through amazed Joy, I neglect my duty!   Moth. 
Rise, and a thousand blessings spring up with thee.  Sav. 

I would we had but one in the mean time,  
Let the rest grow at leisure.   Moth. 
But know you not this Gentleman yet son?  Phil. 
It take its Mr Beveril.  Bev. 
My name's Beveril, Sir:  Phil. 
Right welcome to my bosom▪  Moth. 

You'd not think son,  
How much I am beholding to this Gentleman,  
As far as freedom; he laid out the ransom,  
Finding me so distressed.   Phil. 

'Twas worthily done Sir,  
And I shall ever rest your servant for't.   Bev. 

You quite forget your worth: 'Twas my good hap Sir,  
To return home that way, after some travels;  
Where finding your good Mother so distressed,  
I could not but in pity see her released.   Phil. 
It was a noble Charity Sir, Heaven quit you.  Sav. 
It comes at last.  Bev. 

I left a sister here,  
New married when I last took leave of England.   Phil. 
Oh! Mistress Low-water▪  Bev. 
Pray Sir, how does she!  Phil. 

So little comfort I can give you Sir,  
That I would fain excuse myself, for silence.   Bev. 
Why what's the worst Sir.  Phil. 
Wrongs has made her poor.  Bev. 
You strike my heart— Alas good Gentlewoman!  Phil. 

Here's a Gentleman,  
You know him, Mr Sandfield.   Bev. 
I crave pardon Sir▪  Phil. 
He can resolve you, from her Kinswoman.  Sandf. 
Welcome to England, Madam.  Moth. 
Thanks good Sir,  Phil. 

Now there's no way to 'scape, I'm compased round;  
My shame is like a prisoner set with halberds.   Sav. 

Pish Master, Master, 'tis young flood again,  
And you can take your time now, away quick.   Phil. 
Push, thou'st a swimming head.  Sav. 

Will you but hear me?  
When did you lose your tide, when I set forth with you?   Phil. 
That's true:  Sav. 

Regard me then, though you have no feeling;  
I would not hang by th'Thumbs with a good will.   Phil 
I hang by th'heart Sir, and would fain have ease.  Sav. 

Then this or none: fly to your mother's pity,  
For that's the Court must help you; you're quite gone  
At Common Law, no Counsellor can hear you  
Confess your follies, and ask pardon for'em.  
Tell her the state of all things, stand not nicely,  
The meat's too hard to be minced now; she breeds young bones by this time?  
Deal plainly, Heaven will bless thee; turn out all  
And shake your pockets after it: Beg, weep, kneel, any thing, 'twill break no bones man.  
Let her not rest, take breathing time, nor leave thee  
Till thou hast got her help.   Phil. 
Lad, I conceive thee.  Sav. 

About it then, it requires haste, do't well;  
There', but a short street between us and Hell.   Bev. 
Ah my poor sister!  Moth. 

'Lass good Gentlewoman▪  
My heart even weeps for her:— I son, we'll go now.   Phil. 
May I crave one word Madam?  Shogs his Mother. Moth. 

With me son?  
The more the better welcome.   Sav. 

Now, now, luck:  
I pray not often, the last Prayer I made  
Was nine year old last bartholomewtide;  
'Twould have been a jolly chopper, and' ●'ad lived till this time.   Moth. 

Why do your words start back; are they afraid  
Of her that ever loved them!   Phil. 
I have a suit to you Madam.  Moth. 

You have told me that already; pray what is't?  
If't be so great, my present state refuse it,  
I shall be abler, than command and use it:  
What ever't be, let me have warning to provide for't.   Phil. 

Provide forgiveness then, for that's the want  
My conscience feels; O my wild youth has led me  
Into unnatural wrongs against your freedom once:  
I spent the ransom which my father sent,  
To set my pleasures free, while you lay captive.   Sav. 
He does it finely faith.  Moth. 

And is this all now?  
You use me like a stranger, pray stand up.   Phil. 
Rather fall flat, I shall deserve yet worse.  Moth. 

What ere your faults are, esteem me still a friend,  
Or else you wrong me more in asking pardon,  
Then when you did the wrong, you asked it for:  
And since you have prepared me to forgive you,  
Pray let me know for what, the first fault's nothing.   Sav. 
'Tis a sweet Lady every inch of her.  Phil. 

Here comes the wrong then that drives home the rest.  
I saw a face at Antwerp, that quite drew me  
From Conscience and Obedience; in that fray  
I lost my heart, I must needs lose my way;  
There went the ransom, to redeem my mind,  
Sreed of the money, I brought over her;  
And to cast mists before my father's eyes,  
Told him it was my sister, lost so long,  
And that yourself was dead.— You see the wrong.   Moth. 

This is but youthful still.— O that word sister  
Afflicts me when I think on't: I forgive thee  
As freely as thou didst it. For alas  
This may be called good dealing to some parts,  
That love and youth plays daily among sons.   Sav. 
She helps our Knavery well, that's one good comfort.  Phil. 

But such is the hard plight my state lives in,  
That 'twixt forgiveness, I must sin again,  
And seek my help where I bestowed my wrongs.  
O Mother pity once, though against reason!  
Cause I can merit none, though my wrongs grieve you;  
Yet let it be your glory to relieve me.   Moth. 

Wherein have I given cause yet of mistrust,  
That you should doubt my succour, and my love?  
Show me but in what kind I may bestow 'em.   Phil. 

There came a Dutchman with report this day,  
That you were living.   Moth. 
Came he so lately?  Phil 

Yes Madam.  
Which news so struck my Father on the sudden,  
That he grows jealous of my faith in both.  
These five hours have I kept me from his sight,  
And wished myself eternally so hid:  
And surely, had not your blessed presence quickened  
The flame of life in me, all had gone out.  
Now to confirm me to his trust again,  
And settle much aright in his opinion;  
Say but she is my sister, and all's well.   Moth. 

You ask devotion like a bashful beggar,  
That pure need urges, and not lazy impudence;  
And to express how glad I am to pity you,  
My bounty shall flow over your demand.  
I will not only with a constant breath  
Approve that, but excuse thee for my death▪   Sav. 
Why here's a woman made, as a man would wish to have her!  Phil. 

Oh I am placed higher in happiness,  
Then whence I fell before!   Sav. 

We're brave fellows once again, and we can keep our own:  
Now Hoffte Toftee, our Pipes play as loftily?   Bev. 
My sister fled!  Sandf 

Both fled, that's the news now; Want must obey;  
Oppressions came so thick, they could not stay.   Bev. 

Mean are my fortunes, yet had I been nigh,  
Distress nor wrong should have made virtue fly.   Moth. 
Spoke like a Brother, worthy such a sister;  Bev. 

Grief's like a new wound, heat beguiles the sense,  
For I shall feel this smart more three days hence.  
Come Madam, sorrow's rude, and forgets manners.   Sav. 
Our knavery is for all the world like a shifting Bankrupt, it breaks in one place, and sets up in another: He tries all trades, from a Goldsmith to a Tobacco-seller; we try all shifts, from an Outlaw to a Flatterer: He cousins the Husband, and compounds with the Widow; we cozen my Master, and compound with my Mistress; only here I turn o'th' right hand from him, He is known to live like a Rascal, when I am thought to live like a Gentleman.  Exeunt: Enter Kate with her Man-husband. Mrs Low. 
I have sent in one to th'Widow.  Mr. Low. 

Well said Kate,  
Thou ply'st thy business close,— The coast is clear yet!   Mrs Low. 

Let me but have warning,  
shall make pretty shift with them.   Mr Low. 
That thou shalt wench.  Exit. 〈…〉 

My Lady Sir commends her kindly to you,  
〈…〉 the third part of an hour Sir,  
●●●res your patience,— Two or three of her Tenants out of Kent  
Will hold her so long busied.   Mrs Low. 

Thank you Sir.  
●●●●●it I should attend her time and leisure;  
Those were my Tenants once, but what relief  
Is there in what hath been, or what I was?  
'Tis now that makes the man. A last years feast  
Yields little comfort for the present humour;  
He starves that feeds his hopes with what his past:  
— How now?   Mr Low. 
They're come, newly alighted.  Mrs Low. 

Peace, peace,  
I'll have a trick for 'em,— Look you second me well now.   Mr Low. 
I warrant thee.  Mrs Low. 
I must seem very imperious, I can tell you; therefore if I should chance to use you roughly, pray forgive me beforehand.  Mr Low. 
With all my heart Kate.  Mrs Low. 
You must look for no obedience in those clothes, that lies in the Pocket of my Gown.  Mr Low. 
Well, well, I will not then.  Mrs Low. 
I hear 'em coming, step back a little Sir: Where be those fellows? who looks out there? is there ne'er a Knave i'th' house to take those gentlemen's horses? where wait you to day? how stand you? like a dreaming Goose in a corner, the gentlemen's horses forsooth.  Mr Low. 
Yes an't like your worship.  Enter Master Weatherwise, Mr Pepperton, and Mr Overdon, suitors▪ Peppert. 
What's here, a strange alteration?  Weath: 
A new Lord? would I were upon my Mares back again then.  Mrs Low. 

Pray Gentlemen pardon the rudeness of these Grooms,  
I hope they will be brought to better fashion;  
In the mean time you're welcome Gentlemen.   All. 
We thank you Sir.  Weath. 
Life here's quick work! I'll hold my life h'as struck the Widow i'th' right Planet, Venus in Cauda? I thought 'twas a lecherous Planet that goes to't with a Caudle.  Mrs Low. 
How now Sir?  Mr Low. 
The gentleman's horses are set up Sir.  Peppert. 
No, no, no, we'll away.  Weath. 
We'll away.  Mrs Low. 
How? by my faith, but you shall not yet, by your leave; where's Bess? call your Mistress Sir, to welcome these kind Gentlemen my friends.  Peppert. 
Overd. How Bess, Peg?  Weath. 
Plain Bess! I know how the world goes then, he has been a bed with Bess, i'faith; there's no trust to these Widows; a young horsing Gentleman carries 'em away clear.  Mrs Low. 
Now where's your Mistress Sir, how chance she comes not?  Mr Low. 
Sir, she requests you to excuse her for a while, she's busy with a milliner about Gloves.  Mrs Low. 
Gloves?  Weath▪ 
Hoyda, Gloves too!  Mrs Low. 

Could she find no other time to choose  
Gloves, but now when my friends are here?   Peppert. 
No Sir, 'tis no matter, we thank you for your good will Sir; to say truth, We have no business with her at all at this time, i'faith Sir.  Mrs Low. 
O that's another matter; yet stay, stay Gentlemen and taste a cup of Wine ere you go.  Overd. 
No, thank you Sir.  Mrs Low. 
Mr Pepperton, Mr Weatherwise will you Sir?  Weath. 
I'll see the Wine in a drunkard's shoes first, and drink't after he has brewed it; but let her go, she's fitted i'faith; a proud surly Sir here, he domineers already; one that will shake her bones, and go to Dice with her money, or I have no skill in a calendar: Life! he that can be so saucy to call her Bess already, will call her Prating-Queen a month hence.  Exeunt. Mr Low. 
They have given thee all the slip.  Mrs Low. 

So a fair riddance!  
There's three rubs gone, drop reg've a clear way to th' Mistress.   Mr Low. 
You'd need have a clear way, because you're a bad pricker.  Mrs Low. 

Yet if my Bowl take bank, I shall go nigh  
To make myself a saver:  
Here's Alley room enough, I'll try my fortune,  
I am to begin the world like a younger Brother;  
I know that a bold face, and a good spirit,  
Is all the jointure he can make Widow;  
an't shall go hard, but I'll be as rich as he, or at least seem so; and that's wealth enough:  
For nothing kills a Widow's heart so much,  
As a faint bashful wooer, though he have thousands,  
And come with a poor Water-gruel spirit,  
And a Fish▪ market face, he shall ne'er speed:  
I would not have himself left a poor Widower.   Mr Low. 
Faith I'm glad I'm alive; to commend thee Kate, I shall be sure now to see my commendations delivered.  Mrs Low. 
I'll put her to't i'faith.  Mr Low. 

But soft ye Kate,  
How and she should accept of your bold kindness?   Mrs Low. 

A chief point to be thought on, by my faith;  
Marry therefore Sir, be you sure to step in, for fear I should shame myself, and spoil all:   Mr Low. 
Well, I'll save your credit then for once, but look you come there no more.  Mrs Low. 
Away, I hear her coming.  Mr Low. 
I am vanished.  Exit. Enter Widow▪ Mrs Low. 
How does my life, my soul, my dear sweet Madam?  Wid. 
I have wronged your patience, made you stand too long here.  Mrs Low. 
There's no such thing i'faith Madam; you're pleased to say so.  Wid. 
Yes, I confess I was too slow Sir.  Mrs Low. 
Why you shall make me amends for that then, with a quickness in your Bed.  Wid. 
That were a speedy mends Sir.  Mrs Low. 

Why then you are out of my debt;  
I'll cross the Book, and turn over a new leaf with you.   Wid. 
So with paying a small debt, I may chance run into a greater.  Mrs Low. 
My faith your credit will be the better then: There's many a brave gallant would be glad of such fortune, and pay use for't.  Wid. 
Some of them have nothing else to do; they would be idle and 'twere not for interest.  Mrs Low. 
I promise you Widow, were I a setter up, such is my opinion of your payment, I durst trust you with all the ware in my shop.  Wid. 
I thank you for your good will, I can have no more.  Mrs Low. 
Not of me i'faith, nor that neither; and you know all— Come make but short service Widow, a kiss and to bed, I'm very hungry i'faith Wench.  Wid. 
What are you Sir?  Mrs Low. 
Oh a younger Brother has an excellent stomach, Madam, worth a hundred of your sons and heirs, that stay their wedding stomaches with a hot bit of a Common Mistress, and then come to a widow's bed like a flash of lightning: You're sure of the first of me, not of the five hundreth of them. I never took physic yet in my life; you shall have the Doctor continually with them, or some bottle for his Deputy: Out flies your moneys for restoratives and strengthenings, in me 'tis saved in your purse, and found in your children; they'll get peevish apothecary's stuff, you may weigh 'em by th' ounces; I boys of War, brave Commanders, that shall bear a breadth in their shoulders, and a weight in their hips, and run over a whole country with a pound a Beef, and a biscuit in their Belly. Ho Widow, my kisses are Virgins, my embraces perfect, my strength solid, my love constant, my heat comfortable; but to come to the point, inutterable.  Wid. 

But soft ye, soft ye; because you stand so stricly  
Upon your purity, I'll put you to't Sir.  
Will you swear here, you never yet knew woman?   Mrs Low. 
Never, as man ere knew her; By this Light, Widow.  Wid. 
What, what Sir! shrew my heart he moves me much,  Mrs Low. 

Nay, since you love to bring a man on's knees,  
I take into the same oath, thus much more,  
That you're the first Widow, or Maid, or Wife,  
That ever I in suit of love did Court,  
Or honestly did woo: How say you to that Widow?   Wid. 
Marry I say Sir, you had a good portion of Chastity left you, though ill fortune run away with the rest.  Mrs Low. 
That I kept for thee Widow; she's of fortune, and all her strait bodied daughters; thou shalt have't Widow.  Wid. 
Push what do you mean.  Mrs Low. 
I cannot bestow't better.  Wid. 
I'll call my Servants.  Mrs Low. 
By my troth you shall not Madam▪  Enter Mr Low-water. Mr Low. 
Does your worship call Sir?  Mrs Low. 

Ha pox! are you peeping? Throws somewhat at him.  
He came in a good time, I thank him for't:   Wid. 
What do you think of me? your very forward Sir?  Mrs Low. 
Extremity of love.  Wid 

You say you're ignorant,  
It should not seem so surely by your play;  
For ought I see, you may make one yourself,  
You need not hold the Cards to any Gamester.   Mrs Low. 
That love should teach men ways to wrong itself!  Wid. 

Are these the first-fruits of your boldness Sir?  
If all take after these, you may boast on 'em;  
There comes few such to Market among women:  
Time you were taken down Sir▪   Within there. Mrs Low. 

drop reg've lost my way again, there's but two paths that leads to Widows beds,  
That's wealth or forwardness, and drop reg've took the wrong one.   Enter Servant, with the suitors. Serv. 
He marry my Lady! why there's no such thought yet.  Mrs Low. 
Oh here they are all again too!  Wid. 

Are you come Gentlemen?  
I wish no better men.   Weath. 
Oh the Moon's changed now!  Wid. 
See you that Gentleman yonder!  Peppert. 
Yes sweet Madam.  Wid. 

Then pray be witness all of you, with this kiss  
I choose him for my husband.   All. 
A pox on't.  Wid. 
And with this parted Gold that two hearts join.  Mrs Low. 
Never with chaster love than this of mine.  Wid. 

And those that have the hearts to come to th'wedding,  
They shall be welcome for their former loves.   Exit. Peppert. 
No, I thank you, you've choked me already.  Weath. 
I never suspected mine almanac till now; I believe he plays cogging John with me, I bought it at his shop; it may learn the more knavery by that.  Mrs Low. 

Now indeed Gentlemen I can bid you welcome,  
Before 'twas but a flourish.   Weath. 
Nay so my almanac told me There should be an Eclipse, but not visible in our Horizon, but about the Western inhabitants of Mexicana and Califormia.  Mrs Low. 
Well, we have no business there Sir.  Weath. 
Nor we have none here Sir, and so fare you well.  Exit. Mrs Low. 
You save the house a good labour Gentlemen; the fool carries them away in a Voider. Where be these fellows?  Enter Servants. 1 Serv. 
Sir.  Clow. 
Here Sir.  1 Serv. 
What your worship pleasure.  Mrs Low. 

Oh, this is something like, take you your ease Sir,  
Here are those now more fit to be commanded:   Mr Low. 
How few women are of thy mind; she thinks it too much to keep me in subjection for one day, whereas some wives would be glad to keep their husbands in awe all days of their lives, and think it the best bargain that ere they made.  Mrs Low. 

I'll spare no cost for th'wedding, some device too,  
To show our thankfulness to Wit and Fortune;  
It shall be so— Run straight for one o'th' wits:   Clow. 
How! one o'th' wits? I care not if I run on that account; are they in Town think you?  Mrs Low. 
Whether run'st thou now?  Clow. 
To an ordinary for one of the wits.  Mrs Low. 
Why to an ordinary, above a Tavern.  Clow. 
No, I hold your best wits to be at ordinary, nothing so good in a Tavern:  Mrs Low. 
And why I pray Sir?  Clow: 
Because those that go to an ordinary dine better for Twelve pence, than he that goes to a Tavern for his five shillings; and I think those have the best wits that can save four shillings, and fare better too:  Mrs Low. 
So Sir, all your wit then runs upon Victuals.  Clow. 
'Tis a sign 'twill hold out the longer then.  Mrs Low. 
What were you saying to me?  Serv. 

Please your worship,  
I heard there came a scholar over lately  
With old Sir Oliver's Lady.   Mrs Low. 

Is she come?  
What is that Lady?   1 Serv. 

A good Gentlewoman,  
Has been long prisoner with the enemy.   Mrs Low. 

I know't too well, and joy in her release.  
Go to that house then straight, and in one labour  
You may bid them, and entreat home that scholar:   1 Serv. 
It shall be done with speed Sir.  Clow. 
I'll along with you  
And see what face that scholar has brought over; a thin pair of Barbreaking Sea-water Greenchops, I warrant you.  Mrs Low. 

Since wit has pleasured me, I'll pleasure wit,  
Scholars shall fare the better.— O my Blessing▪  
I feel a hand of mercy lift me up  
Out of a world of waters, and now sets me  
Upon a Mountain, where the Sun plays most,  
To cheer my heart even as it dries my limbs.  
What deep● I see beneath me? in whose falls  
Many a nimble mortal toils,  
And scarce can feed himself; the streams of Fortune  
'Gainst which he tugs in vain, still beat him down,  
And will not suffer him( past hand to mouth)  
To lift his arm to his Posterities Blessing.  
I see a careful sweat run in a ring  
About his Temples, but all will not do:  
For till some happy means relieve his state,  
There he must stick, and bide the wrath of fate▪  
I see this wrath upon an uphil Land,  
O blessed are they can see their falls, and stand!  
How now?   Enter Beveril. Serv. 
With much entreating Sir, he's come.  Mrs Low. 

Sir you're— my Brother!— Joys come thick together:  
Sir when I see a scholar, pardon me,  
I am so taken with affliction for him,  
That I must run into his arms, and clasp him▪   Bev. 

Art stands in need Sir of such cherishers,  
I meet too few; 'twere a brave world for scholars  
If half a Kingdom were but of your mind Sir;  
Let Ignorance and Hell confound the rest.   Mrs Low. 

Let it suffer sweet Sir, you cannot think  
How dearly you are welcome.   Bev. 

May I live  
To show you service for't.   Mrs Low. 

Your love your love Sir,  
We go no higher, nor shall you go lower.  
Sir I'm bold to send for you, to request  
A kindness from your wit, for some device  
To grace our wedding it shall be worth your pains;  
And something more' express my love to art,  
You shall not receive all in bare embracements.   Bev. 

Your love I thank, but pray Sir pardon me,  
drop reg've a heart says I must not grant you that.   Mrs Low. 
No, what's your reason Sir?  Bev. 

I'm not at peace  
With the Lady of this house; now you'll excuse me,  
Sh'as wronged my sister, and I may not do't.   Mrs Low. 
The Widow knows you not.  Bev. 

I never saw her face to my remembrance.  
Oh that my heart should feel her wrongs so much,  
And yet live ignorant of the injurer!   Mrs Low. 

Let me persuade thee, since she knows you not,  
Make clear the weather, let not griefs betray you,  
I'll tell her you're a worthy friend of mine,  
And so I tell her true; thou art indeed.  
Sir here she comes.   Enter Widow. Wid. 
What are you busy Sir?  Mrs Low. 

Nothing less Lady; here's a Gentleman  
Of noble parts, beside his friendship to me;  
Pray give him liberal welcome.   Wid. 
He's most welcome.  Mrs Low▪ 
The virtues of his mind will deserve largely.  Wid. 
Methinks his outward parts deserve as much then; a proper Gentleman it is.  Mrs Low. 
Come worthy Sir.  Bev. 

I follow; check thy blood  
For fear it prove too bold to wrong thy goodness▪  
A wiseman makes affections but his slaves.  
Break 'em in time, let 'em not master thee.  
O 'tis my sister's enemy, think of that!  
Some speedy grief fall down upon the fire,  
Before it take my heart; let it not rise  
'Gainst brotherly Nature, judgement, and these wrongs;— make clear the weather.  
Oh who could look upon her face in storms!  
Yet pains may work it out, griefs do but strive  
To kill this spark, I'll keep it still alive.     

Act 3.  

Scaen 1.  Enter the three late suitors, Weatherwise, Pepperton, and Overdon▪ joined with Sir Gilbert Lambston▪ Weath. 

FAith Sir Gilbert, forget and forgive,  
There's all our hands to a new bargain of friendship.   Peppert. 
I and all our hearts to boot, Sir Gilbert.  Weath. 
Why lafoy you! there's but four Suitors left on's in all th'world, and the fifth has the Widow; if we should not be kind to one another, and so few on's i'faith, I would we were all raked up in some hole or other.  Sir Gilb. 

Pardon me Gentlemen, I cannot but remember  
Your late disgraceful words before the Widow,  
In time of my oppression.   Weath. 
Puh, Saturn reigned then, a melancholy grumbling Planet, he was in the third house of privy enemies, and would have bewrayed all our plots; beside there was a fiery conjunction in the dragon's tails, that spoilt all that ere we went about.  Sir Gilb. 
Dragon or Devil, somewhat 'twas I am sure.  Weath. 
Why I tell you Sir Gilbert, we were all out of our wits in't; I was so mad at that time myself. I could have wished an hind-quarter of my Bull out of your belly again, whereas now I care not if you had eat tail and all; I am no niggard in the way of friendship, I was ever yet at Full Moon in good fellowship, and so you shall find, if you look into the almanac of my true nature.  Sir Gilb. 
Well all's forgiven for once, hands apace, Gentlemen.  Weath. 
Ye shall have two of mine to do you a kindness,— yet when they're both abroad, who shall look to th' house here?  Pep. Overd. 
Not only a new friendship, but a friend.  Sir Gilb. 

But upon this condition Gentlemen  
You shall hear now a thing worth your revenge.   Weath. 
And you doubt that,  
You shall have mine beforehand, drop reg've one ready, I never go without a black Oath about me.  Sir Gilb. 

I know the least touch of a spur in this  
Will now put your desires to a false gallop,  
By all means slanderous in every place,  
And in all companies, to disgrace the Widow,  
No matter in what rank, so it be spiteful  
And worthy your revenges; so now I,  
It shall be all my study, care, and pains,  
And we can lose no labour; all her foes  
Will make such use on't, that they'll snatch it from us  
Faster than we can forge it; though we keep  
Four tongues at work upon't and never cease.  
Then for the indifferent world, faith they're apt  
To bid a slave welcome, than a truth;  
We have the odds of our side: this in time  
May grow so general, as disgrace will spread,  
That wild dissension may divide the bed.   Weath. 
Pep. Excellent!  Overd. 
A pure revenge, I see no dregs in't.  Sir Gilb. 

Let each man look to his part now, and not feed  
Upon one dish all four on's, like plain Maltmen;  
For at this feast we must have several kickshaws,  
And delicate made dishes, that the world  
May see it is a Banquet finely furnished.   Weath. 

Why then let me alone for one of your kickshaws.  
I have thought on that already.   Sir Gilb. 
Prithee how Sir?  Weath. 
Marry Sir I'll give it out abroad, that I have lain with the Widow myself, as 'tis the fashion of many a gallant to disgrace his new Mistress, when he cannot have his will of her, and lie with her name in every Tavern, though he ne'er came within a yard of her person; so I being a Gentleman, may say as much in that kind as a gallant; I am as free by my father's copy.  Sir Gilb. 
This will do excellent Sir!  Weath. 
And moreover I'll give the world thus much to understand beside that, if I had not lain with the Widow in the wain of the Moon, at one of my Seven Stars houses, when Venus was about business of her own, and could give no attendance, she had been brought a bed with two roaring boys by this time, and the Gemini being Infants, I'd have made away with them like a stepmother, and put mine own boys in their places.  Sir Gilb. 
Why this is beyond talk, you outrun your Master.  Enter Clown. Clow. 
Whoop! draw home next time; here are all the old shooters, that have lost the game at pricks? what a fair mark had Sir Gilbert on't, if he had shot home before the last Arrow came in? methinks these show to me now, for all the world, like so many lousy beggars turned out of my Lady's Barn, and have ne'er a hole to put their heads in.  Weath. 
Mass here's her ladyship's Ass, he tells us any thing.  Sir Gilb. 
Ho Piccadill!  Clow. 

What Sir Gilbert Lambston!  
Gentlemen, outlaws all, how do you do?   Sir Gilb. 

How! what dost call us? how goes the world at home Lad?  
What strange news?   Clow. 
This is the state of prodigals as right as can be, when they have spent all their means on brave feasts, their glad to scrape to a servingman for a meals meat.  

So you that whilom like four prodigal rivals,  
Could Goose or Capon, Crane or Woodcock choose,  
Now're glad to make up a poor meal with news;  
A lamentable hearing!   Weath. 
He's in passion;— up to the kickshaws for us.  Clow. 
O Mr Weatherwise, I blame none but you;— you are a Gentleman deeply read in Ponds almanac;— methinks you should not be such a shallow fellow; you knew this day the twelve of June would come when the Sun enters into the Crabs room, and all your hopes would go aside, aside.  Weath. 
The fool says true i'faith Gentlemen, I knew 'twould come all to this pass, I'll show't you presently.  Clow. 

If you had spared but four of your twelve Signs now,  
You might have gone to a Tavern and made merry with 'em.   Weath. 
H'as the best Moral meaning of an Ass, that ere I heard speak with tongue: Look you here Gentlemen; fifth day neither Fish nor Flesh.  Clow. 
No, nor good Red-herring, and you look again.  Weath. 
Sixth day privily prevented.  Clow. 
Marry faugh.  Weath. 
Seventh day shrunk in the wetting.  Clow. 
Nay, so will the best Ware bought for love or money.  Weath. 
The eighth day over head and ears.  Clow. 
By my faith he come home in a sweet pickle then!  Weath. 
The ninth day, scarce sound at heart.  Clow. 
What a pox ailed it?  Weath. 
The tenth day a Courtiers welcome.  Clow. 
That's a cup of Bear, and you can get it.  Weath. 
The eleventh day, stones against the wind.  Clow. 
Pox of an Ass, he might have thrown 'em better.  Weath. 
Now the twelve day Gentlemen, that was our day.— Past all redemption.  Clow. 
Then the Devil go with't.  Weath. 

Now you see plainly Gentlemen how we're used,  
The calendar will not lie for no man's pleasure.   Sir Gilb. 
Push, you're too confident in almanac Posies.  Peppert. 
Faith so said we.  Sir Gilb: 
They're mere delusions.  Weath. 
How!— You see how knavishly they happen Sir.  Sir Gilb. 
Ay, that's because they're foolishly belied Sir.  Weath. 
Well, take your courses Gentlemen without 'em, and see what will come on't▪ you may wander like masterless-men, there's ne'er a Planet will ●are a halfpenny for you: If they look after you I'll be hanged, when you scorn to bestow two pence to look after them.  Sir Gilb. 
How! a device at the wedding sayst thou!  Clow. 
Why? have none of you heard of that yet?  Sir Gilb. 
'Tis the first news i'faith Lad.  Clow. 
Oh there's a brave travelling scholar entertained into the house a purpose; one that has been all the world over, and some part of Jerusalem; h'as his Chamber, his diet, and three Candles allowed him after Supper.  Weath. 
By my faith he need not complain for victuals then, what ere he be.  Clow. 
He lies in one of the best Chambers i'th' house, bravely matted; and to warm his wits as much, a cup of Sack and an Aqua Vitae Bottle stands just at his elbow.  Weath. 
He's shroudly hurt by my faith; if he catch an Ague of that fashion, I'll be hanged.  Clow. 
He'll come abroad anon.  Sir Gilb. 
Art sure on't?  Clow. 
Why he ne'er stays a quarter of an hour in the house together:  Sir Gilb▪ 
No; how can he study then?  Clow. 
Pha best of all; he talks as he goes, and writes as he runs, besides you know 'tis death to a traveller to stand long in one place.  Sir Gilb. 

It may hit right boys!— Honest Piccadill  
Thou wast wont to love me.   Clow. 
I'd good cause Sir then.  Sir Gilb. 
Thou shalt have the same still, take that.  Clow. 
Will you believe me now; I ne'er loved you better in my life, than I do at this present.  Sir Gilb. 

Tell me now truly; who are the Presenters?  
What Parsons are employed in the Device?   Clow. 
Parsons! not any Sir; my Mistress will not be at the charge; she keeps none but an old Welsh Vicar.  Sir Gilb. 
Prithee, I mean, who be the Speakers?  Clow. 
Troth I know none, but those that open their mouths: Here he comes now himself, you may ask him.  Enter Mr Beveril▪ Weath▪ 
Is this he? by my faith one may pick a Gentleman out of his Calves, and a scholar out on's Cheeks; one may see by his looks what's in him; I warrant you there has ne'er a new almanac come out these dozen years, but he has studied it over and over.  Sir Gilb. 
Do not reveal us now.  Clow. 
Because you shall be sure on't, you have given me a ninepences here, and I'll give you the slip for't.  Exit. Sir Gilb. 
Well said; now the Fool's pleased, we may be bold.  Bev. 

Love is as great an enemy to Wit,  
As Ignorance to Art; I find my powers  
So much employed in business of my heart,  
That all the time's too little to dispatch  
Affairs within me.— Fortune too remiss  
I suffer for thy slowness, had I come  
Before a Vow had chained their souls together,  
There might have been some hope, though ne'er so little:  
Now there's no spark at all, nor ere can be,  
But dreadful ones struck from Adultery;  
And if my Lust were smothered with her will,  
Oh who could wrong a Gentleman so kind,  
A stranger made up with a brother's mind?   Sir Gilb. 

Peace, peace, enough, let me alone to manage it.  
A quick invention, and a happy one  
Reward your study Sir.   Bev. 
Gentlemen I thank you.  Sir Gilb. 

We understand your wits are in employment Sir,  
In honour of this wedding.   Bev. 

Sir, the Gentleman  
To whom that worthy Lady is betrothed,  
Vouchsafes t'accept the power of my good will in't▪   Sir Gilb. 

I pray resolve us then Sir, for we're friends  
That love and honour her.   Sir Gilb. 

Whether your number be yet full, or no,  
Of those which you make choice of for Presenters.   Bev. 

First, 'tis so brief, because the time is so,  
We shall not trouble many; and for those  
We shall employ, the house will yield in servants▪   Sir Gilb. 

Nay then under your leave and favour Sir,  
Since all your pains will be so weakly graced,  
And wanting due performance lose their lustre;  
Here are four of us Gentlemen, her friends▪  
Both lovers of her honour, and your Art,  
That would be glad so to express ourselves,  
And think our service well, and worthily placed.   Bev. 

My thanks do me no grace for this large kindness,  
You make my labors proud of such Presenters.   Sir Gilb. 

She shall not think Sir, she's so ill beloved,  
But friends can quickly make that number perfect.   Bev. 
She's bound t'acknowledge it.  Sir Gilb. 

Only thus much Sir,  
Which will amaze her most; I'd have't so carried,  
As you can do't, that neither she, nor none  
Should know what friends we were till all were done.   Weath. 
I that would make the sport.  Bev. 

I like it well Sir;  
My hand and faith amongst you Gentlemen,  
It shall be so disposed of.   Sir Gilb. 
We are the men then.  Bev. 

Then look you Gentlemen, the Device is single,  
Naked, and plain, because the time's so short,  
And gives no freedom to a wealthier sport;  
'Tis only Gentlemen, the four Elements  
In liveliest forms, Earth, Water, Air, and Fire.   Weath. 
Mass and here's four of us too.  Bev. 

It fits well Sir.  
This the effect, That whereas all those four  
Maintain a natural opposition  
And untruced war, the one against the other,  
To shame their ancient Envies they should see  
How well in two breasts all these do agree:   Weath. 
That's in the Bride and Bridegroom; I am quick Sir.  Sir Gilb. 
In faith it's pretty Sir, I approve it well.  Bev. 

But see how soon my happiness, and your kindness  
Is crossed together.   Sir Gilb. 
Crossed! I hope not so Sir.  Bev: 
I can employ but two of you.  Peppert. 
How comes that Sir?  Bev. 

Air and the Fire should be by me presented,  
But the two other in the forms of women.   Weath. 

Nay, then we're gone again: I think these women  
Were made to vex and trouble us in all shapes.   Sir Gilb. 
Faith Sir you stand too nicely.  Weath. 
So think I Sir.  Bev. 

Yet when we tax ourselves, it may the better  
Set off our Errors, when the fine eyes judge 'em;  
But water certainly should be a woman.   Weath. 
By my faith then he is gelded since I saw him last; he was thought to be a man once, when he got his wife with child before he was married.  Bev. 
Fie, you are fishing in an other stream Sir.  Weath. 
But now I come to yours, and you go to that Sir; I see no reason then but Fire and Water should change shapes and genders.  Bev. 
How prove you that Sir?  Weath. 
Why there's no reason but Water should be a man, because Fire is commonly known to be a Quean.  Bev. 
So Sir, you argue well.  Weath. 
Nay more Sir, Water will break in at a little crevice, so will a man if he be not kept out; Water will undermine▪ so will an Informer; Water will ebb and flow, so will a Gentleman; Water will search any place, and so will a Constable, as lately he did at my Seven Stars for a young Wench that was stole; Water will quench Fire, and so will Wat the Barber▪ Ergo, Let Water wear a codpiece-point.  Bev. 
Faith Gentlemen I like your company well.  Weath 
Let's see who'll dispute with me at the Full o'th' Moon▪  Bev. 
No Sir; and you be vain glorious of your talon, I'll put you to't once more.  Weath. 
I'm for you Sir, as long as the Moon keeps in this quarter.  Bev. 
Well, how answer you this then? Earth and Water are both bearers; therefore they should be women.  Weath: 
Why so are Porters and pedlars, and yet they are known to be men.  Bev. 
I'll give you over in time Sir, I shall repent the bestowing on't else.  Weath. 
If I that have proceeded in five and twenty such Books of Astronomy, should not be able to put down a scholar now in One thousand six hundred thirty and eight, the Dominical Letter being G, I stood for a Goose.  Sir Gilb. 

Then this will satisfy you though that be a woman;  
Oceanus, the Sea, that's chief of Waters,  
He wears the form of a man, and so may you.   Bev. 
Now I hear reason, and I may consent.  Sir Gilb. 

And so, though Earth challenge a Feminine face▪  
The matter of which Earth consists, that's dust,  
The general soul of Earth is of both kinds.   Bev. 

Fit yourselves Gentlemen, drop reg've enough for me.  
Earth, Water, Air, and Fire, part 'em amongst you▪   Weath. 
Let me play fair, I was my father's eldest son.  Bev. 
I but this Air never possessed the Lands▪  Weath. 
I'm but disposed to jest with you Sir; 'tis the same my almanac speaks on, is't not?  Bev. 
That 'tis Sir.  Weath. 
Then leave it to my discretion, to fit both the part and the person.  Bev. 
You shall have your desire Sir.  Sir Gilb. 

We'll agree  
Without your trouble now Sir, we're not factious,  
Or envy one another for best parts;  
Like quarrelling Actors that have passionate fits,  
We submit always to the Writers wits.   Bev. 

He that commends you, may do't liberally,  
For you deserve as much as praise can show.   Sir Gilb. 
We'll send to you privately.  Bev. 
I'll dispatch you.  Sir Gilb. 
We'll poison your device.  Exit. Peppert. 

She must have pleasures,  
Shows and conceits, and we disgraceful doom.   Weath. 
We'll make your Elements come limping home.  Exeunt. Bev. 

How happy am I in this unlooked for grace,  
This voluntary kindness from these Gentlemen!  
'Twill set off all my labors far more pleasing  
Before the Widow, whom my heart calls Mistress,  
But my tongue dares not second it.   Enter Mrs Lowwater and her Man-husband. Mr Low. 
How say you now Kate?  Mrs Low. 
I like this music well Sir▪  Bev. 

O unfortunate!  
Yet though a Tree be guarded from my touch,  
There's none can hinder me to love the fruit.   Mrs Low. 
Nay, now we know your mind Brother, we'll provide for you.  Exit. Bev. 

O were it but as free as late times knew it▪  
I would deserve, it all life's wealth could do it.   Exit.   

Act 4.  

Scaen 1.  Enter at Sir Oliver's house, himself, old Sunset, his redeemed Lady, Master Sandfield, the Dutch Merchant, Philip Sir Oliver's Son, and Savorwit alooff off, and Servants. Sir Oliv. 

O My reviving joy! thy quickening presence  
Makes the sad night of threescore and ten years  
Sit like a youthful Spring upon my blood:  
I cannot make thy welcome rich enough  
With all the wealth of words.   Moth. 

It is expressed Sir  
With more than can be equaled; the ill store  
Lies only on my side, my thanks are poor.   Sir Ol. 

Blessed be the goodness of his mind for ever,  
That did redeem thy life, may it return  
Upon his fortunes double! that worthy Gentleman,  
Kind Mr Beveril! shower upon him, Heaven,  
Some unexpected happiness to requite him!  
For that my joys unlooked for;— O more kind,  
And juster far is a mere stranger's goodness  
Then the sophistick faith of natural sons.  
Here's one could juggle with me, take up the ransom,  
He and his loose companion.   Sav. 

Say you me so Sir?  
I'll eat hard Eggs for that trick:   Sir Ol. 

Spend the money▪  
And bring me home false news, and empty pockets:  
In that young gallants tongue there you were dead▪  
Ten weeks before this day, had not this Merchant  
Brought first the truth in words, yourself in substance.   Moth. 

Pray let me stay you here, ere you proceed Sir;  
Did he report me dead say you?   Sir Ol. 
Else you live not.  Moth. 

See now Sir, you may lay your blame too rashly,  
When no looked after it; let me tell you Sir,  
A father's anger should take great advice,  
Ere it condemn flesh of so dear a price.  
He's no way guilty yet for that report  
The general tongue of all the country spread;  
For being removed' far off, I was thought dead.   Phil. 

Can my faith now be taken into favour Sir?  
Is't worthy to be trusted?   Sav. 
No by my troth is't not; 'twould make shift to spend another ransom yet.  Sir Ol. 

Well Sir, I must confess you've here dealt well with me;  
And what is good in you, I love again.   Sav. 

Now am I half ways in, just to the girdle,  
But the worst part's behind.   Sir Ol. 

Marry I fear me Sir,  
This weather is too glorious to hold long.   Moth. 

I see no cloud to interpose it Sir,  
If you place confidence in what I have told you.   Sir Ol. 

Nay 'tis clear sky on that side, would 'twere so  
All over his obedience; I see that,  
And so does this good Gentleman.   Moth, 
Do you Sir?  Sir Ol. 
That makes his honesty doubtful.  Moth. 

I pray speak Sir,  
The truth of your last kindness makes me bold with you.   Dutch M. 

The Knight your husband, Madam, can best speak▪  
He trul●est can show griefs whose heart they break.   Moth. 

I'm sorry yet for more, pray let me know't Sir,  
That I may help to chide him, though 'twould grieve me.   Sir Ol. 

Why then prepare for't; you came over now  
In the best time to do't you could pick out:  
Not only spent my money, but to blind me,  
He and his wicked Instrument   Sav. 
Now he fiddles me  Sir Ol. 

Brings home a Minion here, by great chance known;  
Told me she was his sister, she proyes none.   Moth. 

This was unkindly done Sir; now I'm sorry  
My good opinion lost itself upon you;  
You are not the same son I left behind me,  
More grace took him.— O let me end in time,  
For fear I should forget myself, and chide him!  
Where is he Sir? though he beguiled your eyes,  
He cannot deceive mine; we're now too hard for him.  
For since our first unfortunate separation.  
drop reg've often seen the Girl( would that were true)  
By many a happy accident, many a one;  
But never durst acknowledge her for mine own,  
And therein stood my joys distressed again.   Sir Ol. 
You rehearse miseries wife! call the Maid down.  Sav. 

She's been too often down to be now called so;  
She'll lie down shortly, and call some body up.   Moth. 

He's now to deal with one Sir that knows truth;  
He must be shamed or quit, there's no mean saves him.   Sir Ol. 
I hear her come.  Moth. 

You see how hard 'tis now  
To redeem good opinion being once gone;  
Be careful then, and keep it when 'tis won.  
Now see me take a poison with great joy,  
Which but for thy sake, I should swoon to touch.   Enter Grace. Grace. 

What new affliction? am I set to sale  
For any one that bids most shame for me?   Sir Ol. 
Look you? do you see what stuff they've brought me home here?  Moth. 

Oh bless her eternal powers! my life, my comforts,  
My nine years' grief, but everlasting joy now!  
Thrice welcome to my heart; 'tis she indeed.   Sir Ol. 
What is it?  Phil. 
I'm unfit to carry a ransom.  Sav. 

Down on your knees to save your Belly harmless;  
Ask blessing, though you never mean to use it,  
But give't away presently to a Beggar-wench:   Phil. 
My faith is blemished, I'm no man of trust Sir.  Moth. 
Rise with a mother's blessing.  Sav. 
All this while sh'as rise with a sons.  Sir Ol. 

But soft ye, soft ye wife!  
I pray take heed you place your blessing right now.  
This honest Dutchman here told me he saw her  
At Antwerp in an Inn.   Moth. 
True, she was so Sir.  Dutch M. 

Sir, 'tis my quality; what I speak once,  
I affirm ever; in that Inn I saw her,  
That lets her not to be your daughter now?   Sir Ol. 
Oh Sir, is't come to that!  Suns. 
Here's joys ne'er dreamt on!  Sir Ol. 

O Mr Sunset, I am at the rising  
Of my refulgent happiness! now son Sandfield,  
Once more and ever!   Sandf. 
I am proud on't Sir.  Sir Ol. 
Pardon me boy, I have wronged thy faith too much.  Sav. 
Now may I leave my shell, and peep my head forth.  Sir Ol. 

Where is this Savorwit, that honest whoreson?  
That I may take my curse from his knaves shoulders.   Sav. 

O Sir, I feel you at my very blade here,  
Your curse is ten stone weight, and a pound over.   Sir Ol. 
Come, thou'rt a witty Varlet, and a trusty.  Sav. 

You shall still find me a poor faithful fellow Sir,  
If you have another ransom to send over,  
Or daughter to find out.   Sir Ol. 

I'll do thee right boy;  
I ne'er yet knew thee but speak honest English,  
Marry in Dutch I found thee a knave lately.   Sav. 

That was to hold you but in play a little,  
Till farther truths came over, and I strong;  
You shall ne'er find me a knave in mine own tongue▪  
I have more grace in me, I go out of England  
Still when I take such courses; that shows modesty Sir.   Sir Ol. 

Any thing full of wit, and void of harm,  
I give thee pardon for, so was that now.   Sav. 

Faith now I'm quit, I find myself the nimbler  
To serve you so again, and my will's good▪  
Like one that lately shook off his old Irons,  
And cuts a purse at Bench, to deserve new ones.   Sir Ol. 

Since it holds all the way so fortunate still,  
And strikes so even with my first belief,  
This is the Gentleman wife, young Mr Sandfield here,  
A man of worthy parts beside his Lands,  
Whom I make choice of for my daughter's Bed▪   Sav. 
But he'll make choice there of another Bed-fellow.  Moth. 
I wish 'em both the happiness of love Sir.  Sir Ol. 

'Twas spoke like a good Lady—  
And your memory can reach it wife; but 'tis so long ago too.  
Old Mr Sunset he had a young daughter  
When you unluckily left England so,  
And much about the age of our Girl there;  
For both were nursed together.   Moth. 

'Tis so fresh  
In my remembrance, now you've wakened it,  
As if twelve years were but a twelve hours' dream.   Sir Ol. 

That Girl is now a proper Gentlewoman,  
As fine a body wife, as ere was measured  
With an Indenture cut in farthing steaks.   Suns. 

O say not so Sir Oliver, you shall pardon me Sir.  
I'faith Sir you are too blame.   Sir Ol. 

Sings, dances, plays,  
Touches an Instrument with a Motherly Grace.   Suns. 
'Tis your own daughter that you mean that by.  Sav. 
There's open Dutch indeed, and he could take it▪  Sir Ol. 
This wench under your leave▪  Suns. 
You have my love in't.  Sir Ol. 
Is my son's wife that shall be.  Sav. 

Thus I'd hold with't;  
Is your son's wife that should be Mr Sandfields?   Moth. 
I come in happy time to a feast of marriages.  Sir. Ol. 

And now you put's i'th' mind, the hour draws on  
At the new married Widows there we're looked for;  
There will be entertainments, sports, and banquets;  
There these young lovers shall clap hands together,  
The seed of one feast shall bring forth another.   Suns. 
Well said Sir Oliver.  Sir Ol. 

You're a stranger Sir,  
Your welcome will be best.   Dutch M. 
Good Sir excuse me:  Sir Ol. 
You shall along i'faith, you must not refuse me.  Exit. Manent Mother, Sister, Philip, and Savorwit. Phil. 

O Mother! these new joys that sets my soul up,  
Which had no means, nor any hope of any,  
Has brought me now so far in debt to you,  
I know not which way to begin to thank you▪  
I am so lost in all, I cannot guess  
Which of the two my service most constrains,  
Your last kind goodness, or your first dear pains.   Moth. 

Love is a mother's duty to a son,  
As a son's duty is both love and fear.   Sav. 

I owe you a poor life Madam, that's all;  
Pray call for't when you please, it shall be ready for you.   Moth. 
Make much on't Sir till then.  Sav. 
If buttered Sack will—  Moth. 

Me thinks the more I look upon her son,  
The more thy sister's face runs in my mind.   Phil. 
Belike she's somewhat like her— It makes the better Madam.  Moth. 
Was Antwerp, say you, the first place you found her in?  Phil 
Yes Madam: Why do you ask?  Moth. 
Whose daughter were you?  Grace▪ 
I know not rightly whose, to speak truth Madam.  Sav. 
The Mother of her was a good twigger the whilst.  Moth. 
No: with whom were you brought up then?  Grace. 

With those Madam▪  
To whom( ●'ve often heard) the enemy sold me.   Moth. 
What's that?  Grace. 

Too often have I heard this piteous story  
Of a distressed Mother I had once▪  
Whose comfortable sight I lost at Sea▪  
But than the years of childhood took from me  
Both the remembrance of her, and the sorrows.   Moth. 

Oh I begin to feel her in my blood!  
My heart leaps to be at her;— What was that Mother?   Grace. 
Some said an English Lady;— But I know not.  Moth. 
What's thy name?  Grace. 
Grace.  Moth. 

May it be so in Heaven,  
For thou art mine on Earth; welcome dear child  
Unto thy father's house, thy mother's arms,  
After thy foreign sorrows.   Sav. 
'Twill prove gallant!  Moth: 

What son! such earnest work— I bring thee joy now  
Will make the rest show nothing, 'tis so glorious.   Phil. 

Why 'tis not possible, Madam, that man's happiness  
Should take a greater height than mine aspires.   Moth: 

No, now you shall confess it, this shall quit thee  
From all fears present, or hereafter doubts  
About this business—   Phil. 
Give me that sweet Mother.  Moth. 

Here take her then, and set thine arms a work,  
There needs no' fection, 'tis indeed thy sister:   Phil. 
My sister!  Sav. 
Cuds me, I feel the razor!  Moth. 
Why, how now son? how comes a change so soon?  Phil. 

Oh, I beseech you Mother, wound me anywhere,  
But where you pointed last: That's present death.  
Devise some other miserable torment,  
Though ne'er so pitiless, and I'll run and meet it.  
Some way more merciful let your goodness think on▪  
May steal away my joys, but save my soul;  
I'll willingly restore back every one  
Upon that mild condition any thing  
But what you spoke last, will be comfortable.   Moth. 

You're troubled with strange fits in England here▪  
Your first suit to me did entreat me hardly,  
To say 'twas she, to have old wrath appeased;  
And now 'tis known your sister, you're not pleased▪  
How should I show myself!   Phil. 
Say 'tis not she.  Moth▪ 
Shall I deny my daughter?  Phil. 

O you kill me,  
Beyond all tortures!   Moth. 
Why do you deal thus with me!  Phil. 

She is my wife, I married her at Antwerp;  
I have known the way unto her Bed these three months.   Sav. 
And that's too much by twelve weeks for a sister.  Moth. 
I understand you now, too soon, too plain.  Phil. 

O Mother▪ if you love my peace for ever,  
Examine her again, find me not guilty.   Moth. 
'Tis now too late, her words make that too true.  Phil. 

Her words! shall bare words overthrow a soul?  
A body is not cast away so lightly.  
How can you know 'tis she? let Sense decide it,  
She then so young, and both so long divided.   Moth. 
She tells me the sad story.  Phil. 

Does that throw me?  
Many a distress may have the face of yours,  
That never was kin to you.   Moth. 

But however Sir,  
I trust you are not married.   Phil. 

Here's the witness,  
And all the wealth I had with her; this Ring  
That joined our hearts together.   Moth 

Oh too clear now!  
Thou brought in evidence to overthrow thyself,  
Had no one word been spoke only this shown  
T'had been enough to approved her for mine own;  
See here two Letters that begun my name,  
Before I knew thy Father this I gave her,  
And as a Jewel fastened to her ear.   Grace. 

Pardon me Mother▪ that you find it stray,  
I kept it till I gave my heart away.   Phil. 

Oh to what Mountain shall I take my flight,  
To hide the monster of my sin from sight!   Sav. 

I'll to Wales presently, there's the best Hills  
To hide a poor knave in.   Moth. 

Oh heap not desperation upon guilt!  
Repent yet, and all's saved; 'twas but hard chance;  
Amongst all sins, Heaven pities ignorance,  
She's still the first that has her pardon signed,  
All sins else see their faults, she's only blind.  
Go to thy Chamber, pray, leave off▪ and win,  
One hours' repentance cures a twelve month's sin.   Exit cum Filia. Grace. 
O my distressed husband, my dear Brother!  Phil. 

O Savorwit! never came sorrow yet  
To mankind like it; I'm so far distressed,  
drop reg've no time left to give my heart attendance,  
Too little all to wait upon my soul!  
Before this empest came, how well I stood,  
Full in the beams of blessedness and joy!  
The memory of man, could never say  
So black a storm fell in so bright a day:  
I am that man that even life surfeits of;  
Or if to live, unworthy to be seen  
By the savage eyesight, give's thy hand;  
Commend me to thy prayers.   Sav 
Next time I say 'em  Phil 

Farewell my honest breast, that cravest no more  
Than possible kindness, that drop reg've found thee large in,  
And I must ask no more; there Wit must stay,  
It cannot pass, where Fate stops up the way.  
Joy thrive with thee; I'll never see thee more.   Sav 

What's that Sir! pray come back, and bring those words with you,  
You shall not carry 'em so out of my company:  
There's no last refuge, when your Father knows it;  
There's no such need on't yet, stay but till then,  
And take one with you that will imitate you  
In all the desperate onsets man dare think on.  
Were it to challenge all the Wolves in France,  
To meet at one set battle, I'd be your half in't.  
All Beasts of venom,— what you had a mind to,  
Your part should be took still: For such a day  
Let's keep ourselves in heart, then am I for you.  
In the mean time to beat off all suspicion,  
Let's to the Bridehouse too— here's my Petition.   Phil. 

Thou hast a learning art when all hopes fly;  
Let one night waste, there's time enough left to die.   Sav. 

A minute's as good as a thousand year Sir,  
To p●nk a man's heart like a Summer suit.   Exeunt. Enter two or three Servants placing things in order, with Piccadill the Clown like an Overseer. Clow. 
Bestir your bones nimbly, you Ponderous beef-buttocked Knaves; what a number of lazy hinds do I keep company withal? where's the flesh-colour Velvet Cushion now, for my Ladies Peaseporridge-tawny satin-bum? you attendants upon Revels!  1 Serv 
You can prate and domineer well, because you have a privilege place; but I'd fain see you set your hand to't.  Clow. 
O base bone-pickers, I set my hand to't! when did you ere see a Gentleman set his hand to any thing, unless it were to a sheepskin, and receive a hundred pound for his pains.  2 Serv. 
And afterward lie in the Counter for his pleasure.  Clow. 
Why true, Sir, 'tis for his pleasure indeed; for spite of all their teeth, he may lie i'th' Hole when he list.  1 Serv. 
Marry and should for me.  Clow. 
Ay, thou wouldst make as good a bawd as the best Jailor of them all; I know that.  1 Serv. 
How? Fool!  Clow. 
Hark! I must call you Knave within, 'tis but staying somewhat the longer for't.  Exeunt. Loud music. Enter the new married Widow, and Kate her Husband, both changed in Apparel, Arm in arm together; after them Sir Oliver Twilight, Mr Sunset, and the Dutch Merchant; after them the Mother, Grace the daughter sad, with Jane Sunset; after these, melancholy Philip, Savorwit, and Mr Sandfield. Mrs Low. 
This fair Assembly is most freely welcome.  All. 
Sir Ol Thanks to you good Sir.  Wid. 

Come my long wished for Madam,  
You and this worthy stranger take best welcome,  
Your freedom is a second feast to me.   Mrs Low. 
How is't with my brother?  Mr Low. 

The fit holds him still;  
Nay, Love's more violent.   Mrs Low. 

'Lass poor Gentleman! I would he had my office without money;  
If he should offer any, I'd refuse it.   Mr Low. 

I have the Letter ready:  
He's worthy of a place that knows how to use it.   Mrs Low. 
That's well said,— Come Ladies, Gentlemen; Sir Oliver, good, seat yourselves; shall we be found unreadiest?— What is you Gentleman with the Funeral-face there? methinks that look does ill become a bridehouse?  Sir Oliv. 

Who does your worship mean Sir? my son Philip?  
I am sure he had ne'er less reason to be sad:  
Why are you sad son Philip?   Phil. 

How Sir, sad!  
You shall not find it so Sir.   Sav: 
Take heed he do not then— You must beware how you carry your face in this company; as far as I can see, that young Bridegroom has Hauks-eyes, he'll go nigh to spell sister in your face, if your Nose were but crooked enough to serve for an S. he'd find an eye presently, and then he has more light for the rest.  Phil. 
I'll learn then to dissemble.  Sav. 
Nay and you be to learn that now, you'll ne'er sit in a branched Velvet-gown as long as you live; you should have took that at Nurse, before your Mother weaned you; so do all those that prove great children, and batten well: Peace, here comes a scholar indeed, he has learned it I warrant you.  Enter Mr Beveril with a Pastboord. Wid. 
Kind Sir, your welcome, you take all the pains Sir.  Bev. 
I wish they were but worthy of the grace Of your fair presence, and this choice Assembly. Here is an abstract, Madam, of what's shown, Which I commend to your favour.  Wid. 
Thank you for't Sir.  Bev. 
I would I durst present my love as boldly:  Mrs Low. 
My honest Brother!  Wid. 
Look thee here sweetheart.  Mrs Low. 
What's there sweet Madam?  Bev. 
Music, and we're ready.  Loud music a while. 
A Thing like a Globe opens of one side o'th' Stage, and flashes out Fire, than Sir Gilbert that presents the part, issues forth with Yellow-hair and Beard, intermingled with strokes like wild flames, a three forked Fire in's hand; and at the same time Air comes down, hanging by a cloud, with a Coat made like an almanac, all the Twelve Moons set in it, and the Four Quarters, Winter, Spring, Summer, and Autumn, with change of Weathers, Rain, Lightning, and Tempest, &c.  
And from under the Stage at both ends, arises Water and Earth, two persons; Water with green flags upon his head, standing up instead of hair; and a Beard of the same, with a Chain of Pearl. Earth with a number of little things like Trees, like a thick Grove upon his head, and a wedg of Gold in his hand, his Garment of a Clay colour.  
The Fire speaking first, the scholar stands behind, gives him the first word, which he now follows.  Bev. 
The Flame of Zeal—  FIRE. Sir Gilb. 

The wicked Fire of Lust▪  
Does now spread heat through Water, Air, and Dust.   Bev. 
How? he's out in the beginning— The Wheel of Time.  Weath. 
The Devil set Fire o'th' Distaff.  Sir Gilb. 

I that was wont in elder times to pass  
For a bright Angel, so they called me then,  
Now so corrupted with the upstart Fires  
Of Avarice, Luxury, and Inconstant heats,  
Struck from the bloods of cunning Clap-●aln Daughters,  
Nightwalking Wives, but most libidinous Widows,  
That I that purify even Gold itself,  
Have the contemptible Dross thrown in my face,  
And my bright name walk common in disgrace.  
How am I used o'late, that I am so handled,  
Thrust into Alleys, Hospitals, and Tubs!  
I was once a name of comfort, warmed great houses  
When Charity was Landlord, I have given welcome  
To forty Russet Yeomen at a time,  
In a fair Christmas-Hall. How am I changed!  
The Chimneys are swept up, the Hearth as cold  
As the forefathers Charity in the Sun.  
All the good hospitable heat now turns  
To my young landlord's Lust, and there it burns.  
Rich Widows that were wont to choose by Gravity  
Their second Husbands, not by tricks of Blood,  
Are now so taken with lose Aretine Flames  
Of nimble wantonness, and high-fed Pride,  
They marry now but the third part of Husbands,  
Boys, smooth faced Katamites, to fulfil their Bed,  
As if a woman should a woman wed.  
These are the Fires o'late, my brightness darks,  
And fills the world so full of beggarly Sparks,   Bev. 
Heat! how am I disgraced? what rogue should this be?  Wid. 
By my faith Monsieur Fire, you're a hot whoreson.  Mrs Low. 

I fear my Brother is beside his wits,  
He would not be so senseless to rail thus else.   AIR. Weath. 

After this heat, you Madams, fat and fair,  
Open your Casements wide, and take in Air;  
But not that Air false women make up oaths with.  
No, nor that Air gallants perfume their clothes with;  
I am that Air that keeps about the Clouds,  
None of my kindred was smelled out in crowds,  
Not any of our house was ever tainted,  
When many a thousand of our foes have fainted.  
Yet some there are that be my chief poluters,  
Widows that falsify their Faith to suitors,  
And will give fair words when the Signs in Cancer▪  
But at the next remove a scurvy answer,  
Come to the poor men's houses, eat their Banquet,  
And at night, with a Boy tossed in a blanket.  
Nay, shall I come more near? Perhaps at noon,  
For here I find a spot full in the Moon.  
I know youth's trick, what's she that can withstand it,  
When Mercury reigns, my Lady's Chamber Planet?  
He that believes a widow's words shall fail,  
When Venus' Gown-skirts sweeps the dragon's tail.  
Fair weather the first day she makes to any,  
The second cloudy, and the third day rainy;  
The fourth day a great storm, Lightning, and Thunder;  
A Bolt strikes the Suitor, a Boy keeps her under.   Bev. 

Life! these are some counterfeit slaves crept in their rooms,  
A purpose for disgrace: they shall all share with me.  
Heart! who the Devil should these be?   Exit Beveril. Wid. 

My faith Gentlemen,  
Air has perfumed the room well.   Sir Ol. 
So methinks, Madam.  Sav. 

A man may smell her meaning two rooms off,  
Though his Nose wanted Reparations,  
And the Bridge left at Shoreditch as a Pledge  
For Rosa Solace, in a Bleaking-house.   Mrs Low. 
Life! what should be his meaning in't?  Mr Low. 
I wonder.  WATER. Overd. 

Me thinks this room should yet retain such heat,  
Struck out from the first ardour, and so glow yet,  
You should desire my company, w●sh for Water▪  
That offers here to serve your several Pipes,  
Without constriant of Mill, or death of Waterhouse.  
What if I sprinkled on the widow's Cheeks  
A few cool drops to lay the guilty heat,  
That flashes from her Conscience to her face;  
will't not refresh her shame? From such as she  
I first took weakness and inconstancy;  
I sometimes swell above my banks and spread;  
They're commonly with child, before they're wed:  
In me the Sirens sing before they play,  
In her more witchcraft, for her smiles betray;  
Where I'm lest seen, there my most danger lies,  
So in those parts hide most from a man's eyes:  
Her heart, her love, or what may be more close,  
I know no mercy, she thinks that no loss:  
In her poor gallants, pirates thrive in me;  
I help to cast away, and so does she.   Wid. 

Nay, and you can hold nothing sweet Sir Water,  
I'll wash my hands a'you, ever hereafter.   EARTH. Peppert. 

Earth stands for a Full-point, me you should hire  
To stop the gaps of Water, Air and Fire;  
I love muck well, but your first husband better.  
Above his soul he loved it as his end  
Did fearfully witness it; at his last gasp  
His spirit fl●m'd, as it forsook his breast,  
And left the sparkles quarrelling 'bout his Lips:  
Now of such metal the Devil makes him Whips.  
He shall have Gold enough to glut his Soul;  
And as for Earth, I'll stop his Cranes-throat full.  
The wealth he left behind him, most men know,  
He wrung inconscionably from the rights  
Of poor men's livings, he drunk dry their brows.  
That Liquor has a curse, yet nothing sweeter;  
When your posterity drinks, than 'twill taste bitter.   Sir Gilb. 

And now to vex, 'gainst Nature, Form, Rule, Place,  
See once four waiting Elements all embrace.   Enter four at several corners, addressed like the four Winds, with Wings, &c. and dance all to the Drum and Fiff; the four Elements seem to give back, and stand in amaze; the South wind has a great red face, the North wind a pale bleak one, the Western wind one cheek red, and another white, and so the Eastern wind; at the end of the dance, the Winds shove off the disguises of the other four, which seem to yield and almost fall off of themselves at the coming of the Winds; so all the four old suitors are discovered. Exeunt all the Winds but one, which is the scholar in that disguise, so shows all. Wid. 

How? Sir Gilbert Lambston, Mr Overdon,  
All our old suitors! you have took pains my Masters.   Sir Gilb. 
We made a vow we'd speak our minds to you.  Weath. 
And I think we're as good as our words, though it cost some of our purses; I owe money for the Clouds yet, I care not who knows it; the Planets are sufficient enough to pay the Painter, and I were dead.  Wid. 
Who are you Sir?  Bev. 
Your most unworthy servant.  Wid. 
Pardon me, is't you Sir?  Bev. 

My disgrace urged my wit to take some form,  
Wherein I might both best and properliest  
Discover my abusers, and your own,  
And show you some content, before you'd none.   Wid. 

Sir, I owe much both to your care and love,  
And you shall find your full requital worthy.  
Was this the plot now your poor envy works out?  
I do revenge myself with pitying on you:  
Take Fire into the Buttery, he has most need on't,  
Give Water some small Beer, too good for him;  
Air, you may walk abroad like a Fortune-teller,  
But take down Earth, and make him drink i'th' cellar.   Mrs Low. 
The best revenge that could be.  Moth. 
I commend you Madam.  Sir Ol. 
I thought they were some such sneakers.  Sav. 
The four suitors! and here was a mess of mad Elements.  Mrs Low. 
Lights, more lights there; where be these Blew-coats?  Wid. 
You know your lodgings Gentlemen to night.  Sir Ol. 
'Tis bounty makes bold guests, Madam.  Wid 
Good rest Lady.  Sir Ol. 

A most contentful night, begin a health Madam  
To your long joys, and may the years go round with't—   Wid. 

As many thanks as you have wished 'em hours Sir,  
Take to your lodging with you.   Mrs Low. 
A general rest to all.  Exeunt. Phil. 
I'm excepted.  Sav. 

Take in another to you then, there's room enough.  
In that exception, faith to serve us both.  
The Dial of my sleep goes by your eyes.   Exit. Manent Widow and Mrs Low-water.   

Act 5.  

Scaen 1.  Widow and Mrs Low-water. Wid. 

NOw like a greedy Usurer alone,  
I sum up all the wealth this day has brought me;  
And thus I hug it.   Mrs Low. 
Prithee!  Wid. 
Thus I kiss it.  Mrs Low. 
I can't abide these kissings.  Wid. 

How Sir? not?  
I'll try that sure, I'll kiss you out of that humour.   Mrs Low. 
Push, by my troth I cannot.  Wid. 
What cannot you Sir?  Mrs Low. 

Not toy, nor bill and imitate House-Pigeons,  
A married man must think of other matters.   Wid. 
How, other matters Sir! what other matters?  Mrs Low. 

Why are there no other matters that belong to't?  
Do you think you've married only a Cock-sparrow?  
And fit but for one business, like a fool;  
You shall not find it so.   Wid. 

You can talk strangely Sir,  
Come, will you to bed?   Mrs Low. 
No faith will not I.  Wid. 
What not to bed Sir?  Mrs Low. 
And I do, hang me; not to bed with you.  Wid. 
How not to bed with me! Sir with whom else?  Mrs Low. 
Why am not I enough to lie with myself?  Wid. 
Is that the end of marriage?  Mrs Low. 

No by my faith— 'tis but the beginning, yet death is the end on't,  
Unless some trick come i'th' middle and dash all.   Wid. 

Were you so forward lately, and so youthful,  
That scarce my modest strength could save me from you,  
And are you now so cold?   Mrs Low. 

drop reg've thought on't since,  
It was but a rude part in me i'faith  
To offer such bold tricks to any woman,  
And by degrees I shall well break myself from't;  
I feel myself well chastened since that time,  
And not the third part now so loosely minded.  
O when one sees their follies, 'tis a comfort;  
My very thoughts take more staid years upon 'em.  
Oh marriage is such a serious divine thing,  
It makes youth grave, and sweetly nips the Spring.   Wid. 

If I had chose a Gentleman for care  
And worldly business, I had ne'er took you;  
I had the offers of enough, more fit  
For such employment; I chose you for love;  
Youth, and content of heart, and not for troubles:  
You are not ripe for them; after you've spent  
Some twenty years in dalliance, youths affairs,  
Then take a Book in your hand, and sum up cares;  
As for wealth now, you know that's got to your hands.   Mrs Low. 

But had I known't had been so wrongfully got,  
As I heard since, you should have had free leave  
To have made choice of another Master for't.   Wid. 
Why, can that trouble you?  Mrs Low. 

It may too soon; but go,  
My sleeps are sound, I love not to be started  
With an ill conscience at the fall of midnight,  
And have mine eyes torn open with poor men's curses,  
I do not like the fate on't, 'tis still apt  
To breed unrest, dissension, wild debate,  
And I'm the worst at quarrels upon Earth,  
Unless a mighty injury should provoke me.  
Get you to bed, go.   Wid. 
Not without you in troth Sir.  Mrs Low. 

If you could think how much you wrong yourself  
In my opinion of you, you would leave me now  
With all the speed you might; I like you worse  
For this fond heat, and drink in more suspicion of you.  
You high-fed Widows are too cunning people  
For a poor Gentleman to come simply to.   Wid. 
What's that Sir?  Mrs Low. 

You may make a youth on him,  
'Tis at your courtesy, and that's ill trusted:  
You could not want a friend, beside a suitor,  
To sit in your husband's gown, and look over your writings.   Wid. 
What's this?  Mrs Low. 

I say there is a time when women  
Can do too much, and understand too little.  
Once more to bed, I'd willingly be a Father  
To no more Noses than I got myself;  
And so good night to you.   Wid. 

Now I see the infection,  
A yellow poison runs through the sweet Spring  
Of his fair youth already, 'tis distracted;  
Jealous of that which Thought yet never acted.  
O dear Sir! on my knees I swear to thee.   Mrs Low. 

I prithee use them in thy private Chamber,  
As a good Lady should, spare 'em not there,  
'Twill do thee good, faith none 'twill do thee here   Wid. 

Have I yet married poverty, and must love;  
What Fortune has my heart? that's all I craved,  
And that lies now a-dying; it has took  
A speeding poison, and I'm ignorant; how!  
I never knew what beggary was, till now:  
My wealth yields me no comfort in this plight,  
Had want but brought me love, I'd happened right.   Exit Widow. Mrs Low. 

So, this will serve now for a preparative  
To open the powers of some dislike at first;  
The physic will pay't home.— How dost thou Sir?  
How goes the work?   Enter Mr Low-water. Mr Low. 
Your Brother has the Letter.  Mrs Low. 

I find no stop in't then, it moves well hitherto,  
Did you convey it closely.   Mr Low. 
He ne'er set eye of me.  Bev. 
I cannot read too often.  Above. Mrs Low. 
Peace, to your office—  Bev. 

What blessed fate took pity of my heart,  
But with her presence to relieve me thus!  
All the large volumes that my time hath Mastered,  
Are not so precious to adorn my spirit,  
As these few lines are to enrich my mind.  
I thirst again to drink of the same Fountain—   
Kind Sir,  
I found your care and love so much in the performance of a little, wherein your wit and art had late employment, that I dare now trust your bosom with business of more weight and eminence: Little thought the world, that since the Wedding dinner, all my mirth was but dissembled, and seeming joys but counterfeit. The truth to you Sir is, I find so little signs of content in the bagain I made i'th' morning, that I began to repent before Evening Prayer, and to show some fruits of his wilful neglect, and wild disposition, more than the day could bring forth to me, has now forsaken my Bed, I know no cause for't.  Mrs Low. 
But I'll be sworn I do:  Bev. 
Being thus distressed Sir, I desire your comfortable presence and council, whom I know to be of worth, and judgement; that a Lady may safely impart her griefs to you, and commit 'em to the virtues of Commiseration, and Secrecy.  
Your unfortunate Friend The Widow Wife.  

I have took order for your private admittance  
With a trusty servant of mine own, whom I have  
Placed at my Chamber-door to attend your coming,  
He shall not wait too long▪ and curse my slowness.   Mr Low. 
I would you'd come away then.  Bev. 

How much am I beguiled in that young Gentleman!  
I would have sworn had been the perfect abstract  
Of honesty and mildness: 'Tis not so—   Mrs Low. 

I pardon you sweet Brother, there's no hold  
Of what you speak now, you're in Cupid's pound.   Bev. 

Blessed be the secret hand that brought thee hither;  
But the dear hand that writ it, ten times blessed.   Mr Low. 

That's I still, has blessed me now ten times at twice.  
Away I hear him coming.   Mrs Low. 
Strike it sure now?  Exit. Mr Low. 
I warrant thee sweet Kate, choose your best—  Enter Mr Beveril. Bev. 
Who's there?  Mr Low. 

O Sir, is't you! you're welcome then,  
My Lady still expects you Sir.   Bev. 
Who's with her?  Mr Low. 
Not any creature living Sir.  Bev. 

Drink that,  
drop reg've made thee wait too long.   Mr Low. 

It does not seem so now Sir. Sir if a man  
Tread warily as any wise man will,  
How often may he come to a Lady's Chamber, and be welcome to her?   Bev. 
Thou giv'st me learned council for a Closet.  Mr Low. 

Make use on't Sir, and you shall find no loss in't.  
So, you are surely in, and you must under.   Enter Kate with all the Guests, Sir Oliver, Mr Sunset, Wife, Daughter, Philip, Sandfield, and Savorwit. Mrs Low. 

Pardon my rude disturbance, my wrongs urge it,  
I did but try the plainness of her mind,  
Suspecting she dealt cunningly with my youth,  
And told her the first night, I would not know her;  
But minding to return, I found the door  
Warded suspiciously, and I heard a noise;  
Such as fear makes, and guiltiness at th'approaching  
Of an unlooked for husband.   All. 
This is strange Sir.  Mrs Low. 
Behold its bard, I must not be kept out.  Sir Ol. 
There is no reason Sir.  Mrs Low. 

I'll be resolved in't.  
If you be sons of honour, follow me.   Break open door, rush in. Sav. 
Then must I stay behind, for I think I was begot i'th' Woodyard, and that makes every thing go so hard with me.  Enter confusedly with the Widow, and her Brother the scholar. Mrs Low. 
That's he, be sure on him▪  Within. Sir Ol. 
Be not so furious Sir.  Mrs Low. 

She whispered to him to slip into her Closet.  
What have I taken you? is not my dream true now?  
Unmerciful Adulteress, the first night!   Sir Ol. 
Nay good Sir patience.  Mrs Low. 

Give me the Villains heart,  
That I may throw't into her bosom quick,  
There let the lecher pant.   Moth. 
Nay sweet Sir.  Mrs Low. 

Pardon me,  
His life's too little for me.   Wid. 

How am I wrongfully shamed? speak your intent Sir  
Before this company, I pursue no pity▪   Mrs Low. 

This is a fine thievish juggling, Gentlemen!  
She asks her mate that shares in guilt with her? Too gross, too gross!   Bev. 
Rash mischief.  Mrs Low. 

Treacherous Sir!  
Did I for this cast a friends arm about thee?  
Gave thee the welcome of a worthy spirit,  
And lodged thee in my house, nay, entertained thee  
More like a natural Brother, than a stranger;  
And have I this reward? Perhaps the pride  
Of thy good parts, did lift thee to this impudence?  
Let her make much on 'em, she gets none of me.  
Because thou'rt deeply read in most Books else,  
Thou wouldst be so in mine; there it stands for thee,  
Turn o'er the leaves, and where you left, go forward.  
To me it shall be like the Book of Fate,  
Ever clasped up.   Sir Ol. 
O dear Sir, say not so.  Mrs Low. 

Nay I'll swear more; for ever I refuse her,  
I'll never set a foot into her bed;  
Never perform the duty of man to her,  
So long as I have breath.   Sir Ol. 
What an oath was there Sir? call't again.  Mrs Low. 

I knew by amorous sparks struck from their eyes,  
The fire would appear shortly in a blaze;  
And now it flames indeed:— Out of my house,  
And take your Gentleman of good parts along with you;  
That shall be all your substance;  
He can live in any Emperor's Court in Christendom▪  
You know what you did Wench, when you chose him  
To thrust out me; you have no politic love,  
You are to learn to make your market; you,  
You can choose wit, a burden light and free,  
And leave the grosser Element with me.  
Wealth, foolish trash, I thank you, out of my doors.   Sir Ol. 
Nay good Sir, hear her.  Moth. Suns. 
Sweet Sir.  Mrs Low. 

Pray to your Chambers Gentlemen, I should be here  
Master of what is mine.   Sir Ol. 
Hear her but speak Sir?  Mrs Low. 

What can she speak but woman's common language?  
She's sorry and ashamed for't that helps nothing;   Wid. 

Sir, since it is the hard hap of my life  
To receive injury where I placed my love.   Mrs Low. 
Why lafoy, I told you what escapes she'd have.  Sir Ol. 
Nay pray Sir hear her forward.  Wid. 

Let our parting be full as charitable as our meeting was,  
That the pale envious world, glad of the food  
Of others miseries, civil dissensions,  
And nuptial strifes, may not feed fat with ours.  
But since you are resolved so wilfully  
To leave my Bed, and ever to refuse me,  
As by your rage I find it your desire,  
( Though all my actions deserve nothing less)  
Here are our friends, men both of worth and wisdom,  
Place so much power in them, to make an evenness  
Between my peace and yours: All my wealth within doors  
In Gold and Jewels, lie in those two Caskets  
I lately led you to; the value of which  
Amounts to some five thousand a piece;  
Exchange a charitable hand with me,  
And take one Casket freely, fare thee well Sir.   Sir Ol. 
How say you to that now?  Mrs Low. 

Troth I thank her Sir!  
Are not both mine already?— You shall wrong me,  
And then make satisfaction with mine own;  
I cannot blame you; a good course for you—   Wid. 

I know 'twas not my luck to be so happy;  
My miseries are no starters when they come,  
Stick longer by me.   Sir Ol: 

Nay, but give me leave Sir,  
The wealth comes all by her.   Mrs Low. 

So does the shame,  
Yet that's most mine; why should not that be too?   Sir Ol. 

Sweet Sir, let us rule so much with you,  
Since you intend an obstinate separation,  
Both from her Bed and board, give your consent  
To some agreement reasonable and honest.   Mrs Low. 
Must I deal honestly with her Lust?  Moth. 
Nay good Sir.  Mrs Low. 

Why I tell you all the wealth her husband left her,  
Is not of power to purchase the dear peace  
My heart has lost in these adulterous Seas;  
Yet let her works be base, mine shall be noble.   Sir Ol. 
That's the best word of comfort I heard yet.  Mrs Low. 

Friends may do much.— Go, bring those Caskets forth,  
I hate her sight, I'll leave her, though I lose by't.   Sir Ol. 

Spoke like a Noble Gentleman i'faith;  
I'll honour thee for this—   Bev. 

O cursed man!  
Must thy rash heat force this division?   Mrs Low. 

You shall have free leave now, without all fear;  
You shall not need oiled hinges, privy passages,  
Watchings, and whisperings; take him boldly to you.   Wid. 

O that I had that freedom, since my shame  
Puts by all other fortunes, and owns him.  
A worthy Gentleman, if this cloud were past him,  
I'd marry him, were't but to spite thee only,  
So much I hate thee now.   Enter Servants with two Caskets, and the suitors. Sir Oliver. 

Here come the Caskets Sir, hold your good mind now,  
And we shall make a virtuous end between you.   Mrs Low. 

Though nothing less she merit but a curse,  
That might still hang upon her, and consume her still;  
As t'has been many a better woman's fortune  
That has deserved less vengeance, and felt more;  
Yet my mind scorns to leave her shame so poor.   Sir Ol. 
Nobly spoke still.  Sir Gilb. 
This strikes me into music, Ha, ha.  Peppert. 
Parting of goods before the bodies join?  Weath▪ 
This 'tis to marry beardless domineering Boys: I knew 'twould come to this pass; well fare a just almanac yet; for now is Mercury going into the second house near unto Ursa major, that great hunks, the Bear at the Bridge foot in Heaven; which shows horrible Bear-baitings in wedlock; and the Sun ne'er entering into th'Dog, sets 'em all together by th'ears.  Sir Ol. 
You see what's in't.  Mrs Low. 
I think 'tis as I left it.  Wid. 

Then do but gauge your faith to this assembly.  
That you will ne'er return more to molest me,  
But rest in all revenges full appeased,  
And am ply satisfied with that half my wealth,  
And take't as freely as life wishes health.   Sir Ol. 
La you Sir; come, come, faith you shall swear that.  Mrs Low. 
Nay Gentlemen for your sakes, now I'll deal fairly with her.  Sir Ol. 
I would we might see that Sir.  Mrs Low. 

I could set her free,  
But now I think on't, she deserves it not.   Suns. 
Nay do not check your goodness, pray Sir, on with't.  Mrs Low. 

I could release her, ere I parted with her;  
But 'twere a courtesy ill placed, and set her  
At as free liberty to marry again,  
As you all know she was before I knew her.   Sir Ol. 
What couldst thou Sir?  Mrs Low. 

But 'tis too good a blessing for her.  
Up with the Casket Sirrah.   Wid. 
O Sir stay!  Mrs Low. 
I have nothing to say to you.  Sir Ol. 

Do you hear Sir?  
Pray let's have one word more with you for our money.   Wid. 

Since you've exposed me to all shame and sorrow,  
And made me fit but for one hope and fortune,  
Bearing my former comforts away with you  
Show me a parting charity but in this,  
For all my losses pay me with that freedom,  
And I shall think this treasure as well given  
As ever 'twas ill got▪   Mrs Low. 

I might afford it you,  
Because I never mean to be more troubled with you.  
But how shall I be sure of the honest use on't,  
How you'll employ that liberty? perhaps sinfully,  
In wantonness unlawful, and I answer for't.  
So I may live a bawd to your loose works still,  
In giving 'em first vent; not I,' shall pardon me,  
I'll see you honestly joined, ere I release you;  
I will not trust you for the last trick you played me; here's your old suitors.   Peppert. 
Now, we thank you Sir.  Weath. 
My almanac warns me from all Cuckoldly Conjunctions.  Wid. 

Be but commander of your word now Sir,  
And before all these Gentlemen, our Friends,  
I'll make a worthy choice.   Suns. 
Fly not ye back now.  Mrs Low. 

I'll try thee once. I am married to another,  
There's thy release.   Sir Ol. 

Hoyda! there's a release with a witness?  
Thou'rt free sweet wench.   Wid. 

Married to another!  
Then in revenge to thee,  
To vex thine eyes 'cause thou hast mocked my heart,  
And with such treachery repaid my love;  
This is the Gentleman I embrace and choose▪   Mrs Low. 

O torment to my blood, mine enemy!  
None else to make thy choice of, but the man  
From whence my shame took head!   Wid. 

'Tis done to quit thee;  
Thou that wrong'st woman's love, her hate can fit thee.   Sir Ol. 

Brave wench i'faith! now thou hast an honest Gentleman,  
Rid of a swaggering knave, and there's an end on't.  
A man of good parts, this tother had nothing!  
Life, married to another?   Sir Gilb. 
O brave rascal with two wives!  Weath. 
Nay and our women be such subtle Animals, I'll say wait at the Carriers for a country chambermaid, and live still a bachelor: When Wives are like almanacs, we may have every year a new one, then I'll bestow my money on 'em; in the mean time I'll give 'em over, and ne'er trouble my almanac about 'em.  Sir Gilb. 

I come in a good time to see you hanged Sir,  
And that's my comfort.— Now I'll tickle you Sir.   Mrs Low. 
You make me laugh indeed.  Sir Gilb. 

Sir you remember  
How cunningly you choked me at the Banquet  
With a fine bandy Letter.   Mrs Low. 
Your own fist Sir.  Sir Gilb. 

I'll read the Statute-Book to you now for't:  
Turn to the Act in Anno Iac primo,  
There lies a Halter for your windpipe:   Mrs Low. 
Fie no.  Sir Ol. 
Faith but you'll find it so Sir, an't be followed.  Weath. 

So says my almanac, and he's a true man.  
Look you; the thirteenth day work for the Hangman.   Mrs Low. 
The fourteenth day, make haste, 'tis time you were there then.  Weath. 
How? is the Book so sancy to tell me so?  Bev. 

Sir I must tell you now, but without Call,  
The Law would hang you, if married to another:   Mrs Low. 

You can but put me to my Book, sweet Brother.  
And drop reg've my Neck-verse perfect, here and here.  
Heaven give thee eternal joy, my dear sweet Brother.   All. 
Who's here?  Sir Gilb. 

O Devil, herself? did she betray me.  
A pox of shame, nine Coaches shall not stay me   Exit Sir Gilbert▪ Bev. 

drop reg've two such deep healths in two joys to pledge,  
Heaven keep me from a surfeit:   Sir Ol. 

Mistress Low water!  
Is she the jealous Cuckold, all this quoils about?  
And my right worshipful servingman, is it you Sir?   Mr Low. 
A poor wronged Gentleman, glad to serve for his own Sir:  Sir Ol. 
By my faith you've served the Widow a fine trick between you.  Mrs Low. 

No more my enemy now, my brother's wife,  
And my kind Sister.   Sir Ol. 

There's no starting now from't:  
'Tis her own Brother, did not you know that?   Wid. 
'Twas never told me yet.  Sir Ol. 
I thought you'd known't.  Mrs Low. 

What matter is't, 'tis the same man was chose still,  
No worse now than he was, I'm bound to love you,  
You've examined in this a double charity,  
Which to your praise, shall to all times be known,  
Advanced my Brother, and restored mine own,  
Nay, somewhat for my wrongs, like a good sister,  
For well you know the tedious suit did cost,  
Much pains and fees, I thank you, 'tis not lost:  
You wished for love, and faith I have bestowed you  
Upon a Gentleman that does dearly love you.  
That recompense drop reg've made you; and you must think Madam  
I loved you well,( though I could never ease you)  
When I fetched in my Brother thus to please you.   Sir Ol 
Here's unity for ever strangely wrought.  Wid. 

I see too late there is a heavy judgement  
Keeps company with Extortion, and foul deeds;  
And like a wind which Vengeance has in chase,  
Drives back the wrongs into the Injurers face.  
My punishment is gentle, and to show  
My thankful mind for't, thus I'll revenge this,  
With an embracement here, and here a kiss.   Sir Ol. 

Why now the Bells they go trim, they go trim;  
I wished thee Sir some unexpected blessing  
For my wife's ransom, and 'tis fallen upon thee.   Weath 
A pox of this, my almanac ne'er gulled me till this hour, the thirteenth day work for the hangman, and there's nothing toward it; I'd been a fine ass, if I'd given twelvepences for a horse to have rid to Tyburn to morrow.— But now I see the error, 'tis false figured, it should be thirteen days and a half, work for the hangman; for he ne'er works under thirteen-pences halfpenny:— Beside, Venus being a spot in the ●●ns garment, shows there should be a woman found in Hose and Doublet.  Sir Ol. 
Nay faith sweet wife, we'll make no more hours on't now, 'tis as fine a contracting time, as ever came amongst gentlefolks. Son Philip, Master Sandfield, come to the book here:  Phil 

Now I'm waked  
Into a thousand miseries and their torments.   Sav. 
And I come after you Sir, drawn with wild horses; there will be a brave show on's anon, if this weather continue.  Sir Ol. 
Come wenches; where be these young genmens' hands now?  Moth. 
Poor Gentleman my son, some other time Sir.  Sir Ol. 
I'll have't now i'faith wife.  Wid. 
What are you making here?  Sir Ol. 

I have sworn, sweet Madam,  
My son shall marry Mr Sunset's daughter,  
And Mr Sandfield mine.   Wid. 

So you go well Sir,  
But what make you this way then?   Sir Ol. 
This! for my son.  Wid. 
O back Sir, back! this is no way for him.  Suns. Sir Ol. 
How?  Wid. 

O let me break an oath, to save two souls,  
Lest I should wake another judgement greater;  
You come not here for him Sir.   Sir Ol. 
What's the matter?  Wid. 

Either give me free leave to make this match,  
Or I'll forbid the Banes.   Sir Ol. 
Good Madam take it.  Wid. 
Here Mr Sandfield then.  Sir Ol. 
Cuds Bodkins!  Wid. 
Take you this Maid.  Sandf. 
You could not please me better, Madam.  Sir Ol. 
Hoyda! is this your hot love to my daughter Sir?  Wid. 
Come hither Philip, here's a wife for you.  Sir Ol. 
Zunes, he shall ne'er do that, marry his Sister!  Wid. 

Had he been ruled by you, he had married her.  
But now he marries Mr Sunset's daughter,  
And Mr Sandfield yours, drop reg've saved your oath Sir.   Phil. 
O may this blessing hold!  Sav. 
Or else all the liquor runs out.  Sir Ol. 
What Riddle's this Madam?  Wid. 

A Riddle of some fourteen years of age now.  
You can remember Madam, that your daughter  
Was put to nurse to Mr Sunset's wife.   Moth. 
True! that we talked on lately.  Sir Ol. 
I grant that Madam.  Wid. 

Then you shall grant what follows: At that time  
You likewise know old Mr Sunset here  
Grew backward in the world, till his last fortunes  
Raised him to this estate.   Sir Ol. 
Still this we know too.  Wid. 

His wife then Nurse, both to her own and yours,  
And both so young, of equal years, and daughters;  
Fearing the extremity of her fortunes then,  
Should fall upon her Infant; to prevent it,  
She changed the children, kept your daughter with her,  
And sent her own to you for better fortunes:  
So long enjoined by solemn oath unto't,  
Upon her death bed, I have concealed this,  
But now so urged here's yours, and this is his.   Sav 
Hoop! the joy is come of our side.  Weath. 
Hay. I'll cast mine almanac to the Moon too and strike out a new one for next year.  Phil. 
It wants expression, this miraculous blessing.  Sav 
Me thinks I could spring up, and knock my hea● against yond S●lver-feeling now for joy.  Weath. 
By my faith, but I do not mean to follow you there, so I may dash out my Brains against Charles Wain, and come down as wise as a Carman▪  Sir Ol. 
I never wondered yet with greater pleasure.  Moth. 

What tears have I bestowed on a lost daughter,  
And left her behind me.   Wid. 

This is Grace,  
This Jane: Now each has her right name and place.   Suns. 
I never heard of this.  Wid. 
I'll swear you did not Sir.  Sir Ol. 

How well I have kept mine oath against my will;  
Clap hands, and joy go with you.— Well said Boys!   Phil▪ 
How art thou blessed from shame, and I from ruin:  Sav. 
Ay, from the baker's Ditch, if I'd seen you in.  Phil. 

Not possible the whole world to match again,  
Such grief, such joy, in minutes lost and won.   Bev. 

Who ever knew more happiness in less compass?  
Ne'er was poor Gentleman so bound to a Sister,  
As I am, for the weakness of thy mind;  
Not only that thy due, but all our wealth  
Shall lie as open as the Sun to man,  
For thy employments; so the charity  
Of this dear Bosom bids me tell thee now.   Mrs Low. 
I am her servant for't.  Wid. 

Ha worthy Sister!  
The government of all, I bless thee with.   Bev. 

Come Gentlemen, on all perpetual Friendship.  
Heaven still relieves, what Misery would destroy,  
Never was night yet of more general Joy.     

EPILOGUE.  

NOw let me see what weather shall we have now;  
Hold fair now, and I care not.— Mass Full Moon too,  
Just between five and six this Afternoon:  
This happens right, the sky for the best part clear,  
Save here and there a Cloud or two dispersed  
That's some dozen of Panders, and half a score Pick-Pockets,  
You may know them by their whistle,  
And they do well to use that while they may:  
For Tyburn craks the Pipe, and spoils the music.  
What says the destiny of the hour this Evening,  
Ha, fear no colours by my troth agreed then,  
The red and white looks cheerfully: For know ye all,  
The Planet's Jupiter, you should be jovial;  
There's nothing lets it, but the Sun i'th' Dog;  
Some bark in corners that will fawn and cog.  
Glad of my fragments for their Ember-week,  
The Signs in Gemini too, both hands should meet;  
There should be noise i'th' Air, if all things hap,  
Though I love Thunder, when you make the clap.  
Some faults perhaps have slipped, I am to answer;  
And if in any thing, your revenge appears,  
Send me in, with all your fists about mine ears.    
FINIS.   

Courteous Reader, these Books following are printed for Humphrey Moseley, at the Prince's arms in St. Paul's churchyard.  

Various Histories, with curious Discourses in human Learning, &c.  
1 historical relations of the united Provinces of Flanders, by Cardinal Bentivoglio: Englished by the Right honourable Henry Earl of Monmouth. Fol.  
2. The History of the wars of Flanders, written in Italian by that learned and famous Cardinal Bentivoglio; Englished by the Right honourable Henry E. of Monmouth. The whole work Illustrated with a Map of the 17. Provinces, and above 20 Figures of the chief Personages mentioned in this History. Fol.  
3. The History of the wars of the Emperor Justinian, with the Persians, Goths, and Vandals, written in Greek by Procopius of Caesaria in eight books, translated into English by Sir Henry Holcroft. Knight. Fol.  
4. De Bello Belgico, the History of the Low-Country wars, written in Latin by Famianus Strada, in English by Sir Robert Stapylton, Illustrated with divers Figures. Fol.  
5. The use of passions, written by I. F. Senalt, and put into English by Henry, Earl of Monmouth 8o.  
6. Judicious and Select essays and observations by the Renowned and learned Knight, Sir Walter Raleigh, with his Apology for his Voyage to Guiana. Fol.  
7. The complete Horseman and Expert Farrier in two books, by Thomas De Gray Esquire, newly printed with additions. in 4ᵒ 1656.  
8. Unheard-of curiosities concerning the talismanical Sculpture of the Persians. The Horoscope of the Patriarchs, and the judgement of the stars, by J. Gaffarel, Englished by Edmund Chilinead, Ch. Ch. Oxon.  
9 The History of the Inquisition, composed by R. F. Servita, the compiler of the History of the council of Trent, in 8o. translated out of Italian.  
10. Biathanatos, a Paradox of self-murder, by Dr. Jo. Donne, Dean of St. Paul's London.  
11. The gentleman's Exercise, or the Art of limning, painting, and blazoning of Coats and arms, &c. by Henry Peacham Master of Arts, 4o.  
12. M. Howels History of Lew is the thirteenth King of France, with the life of his Cardinal de Richelieu. Fol.  
13. Mr. Howel's Epistolae Ho elianae. Familiar letters domestic and foreign, in six Sections partly historical, political, philosophical, the first Volume with Additions. 8o.  
14. Mr. Howel's new volume of Familiar letters partly historical, political, philosophical, the second Volume with many Additions. 80  
15. Mr. Howel's third Volume of Additionall letters of a fresher date, never before published. 8o.  
16. Mr. Howel's Dodono's Grove, or the vocal Forest, the first part, in 12o. with many Additions.  
17. Mr. Howel's Dodona's Grove, or the vocal Forest, the second part in 8o, never printed before.  
18. Mr. Howel's, England's tears for the present wars.  
19 Mr. Howel's Fre-eminence and pedigree of Parliament, in 12o.  
20. Mr. Howel's Instructions and Directions for foreign Travels, in 12ᵒ with divers Additions for Travelling into Turkey, and the Levant parts.  
21. Mr. Howel's Vote, or a Poem royal presented to his late Majesty, in 4o.  
22. Mr. Howel's Angliae Suspiria & lachrymae, in 12o.  
23. Marques Virgilio Malvezzi's Romulus and Tarquin, Englished by Hen. Earl of Monmouth, in 12o.  
24. Marques Virgilio Malvezzi's David persecuted, Englished by Ro. Ashly▪ Gent. in 12o.  
25. Marques Virgilio Malvezzi, of the success and chief events of the Monarchy of Spain, in the year 1639. of the revolt of the Catalonians from the King of Spain. Englished by Rob. Gentilis Gent. in. 12.  
26. Marques Virgilio Malvezzi's considerations on the lives of Alcibiades, and Coriolanus, Two famous Roman Commanders, Englished by Rob. Gentilis.  
27. Policy unveiled, or maxims of State, done into English by the Translator of Gusman, in 4o.  
28. Gracious privileges granted by the King of Spain to our English Merchants, in 4o.  
29. England's looking in and out by Sr. Ralph Maddison, Knight, 4o.  
30. Gratiae Ludentes, jests from the University.  
31. The Antipathy between the French and the Spaniard, an ingenious translation out of Spanish.  
32. Mr. Bird's grounds of Grammar, in 8o.  
33. Mr. Bulwers Phylocophus, or the deaf and Dumb man's friend, in 12o.  
34. Mr. Bulwer's Pathomyotomia, or a dissection of the significative Muscles of the Affections of the Mind, 12o.  
35. An Itinenary containing a voyage made through Italy in the years 1646, 1647. illustrated with divers Figures of Antiquity, never before published, by John Raymond, Gent. in 120.   

Books in Humanity lately Printed.  
36. THe History of Life and Death, or the prolongation of Life, written by Francis Lord Uerulam, Viscount St. Alban in 12o.  
37. The natural and experimental History of Winds, written in Latin by Francis Lord Verulam Viscount St. Alban, translated into English by an admirer of the learned Author. 12.  
38. The life of the most learned Father Paul, author of the History of the council of Trent, translated out of Italian by a person of quality. 8o.  
39 Paradoxes, Problems, Characters, & ●. by Dr. Donn Dean of St Paul's, to which is added a book of Epigrams, written in Latin by the same Author, translated by Jasper Main. D. D. 12.  
40. Ignatius his conclave, a satire written by Dr. Donne Deane of St. Paul's. 12.  
41. A Discovery of subterraneal Treasure, viz. of all manner of Mines and Minerals, from the Gold, to the goal, with plain directions and rules for the finding of them in all kingdoms, and Countries, written by Gabriel Platt. 4.  
42. Richardi Gardiner, ex Aede Christi Oxon. specimen Oratorium. 8o.  
43. The sovereignty of the British Seas, written by that learned Knight Sir John Burroughes Keeper of the Records in the Tower. 12.  
44. Grammatica Burlesa, or a new English Grammar made plain and easy for Teacher and scholar, composed by Edward Burles Master of Arts.  
45. Artificial arithmetic containing the Quintessence of the Golden Rule, the true valuation of all Annuities, also to find the distance at one station; An Art never till now published, useful for Merchants, Gunners, Seamen, and Surveyors, by Robert Jager of Sandwich in Kent Gent.  
46. Natural and Divine Contemplations of the Passions and Faculties of the Soul of Man in three books, written by Nicholas Moseley Esq. 8o.   

Several Sermons, with other exeellent Tracts in Divinity, written by some most eminent and learned Bishops, and Orthodox Divines.  
47. A manual of private Devotions & Meditations for every day in the week, by the right reverend Father in God, Lancelot Andrews late Lord Bishop of Winchester, in 24o.  
48. A manual of Directions for the Sick, with many sweet Meditations and Devotions, by the right reverend Father in God, Lancelot Andrews, late Lord Bishop of Winchester, in 24o.  
49. Ten Sermons upon several occasions, preached at St. Paul's cross, and elsewhere, by the Right reverend Father in God, Arthur Lake, late Lord Bishop of Bath and Wells. in 40.  
50. Six Sermons upon several occasions, preached at Court before the King's Majesty, and elsewhere, by that late learned and reverend Divine, John Donne, Dr. in Divinity, and Dean of St. Paul's London, in 4o.  
51. Private Devotions in six litanies, with directions and Prayers for the days of the week and Sacrament, for the hour of Death, and the day of judgement, and two daily prayers, for the Morning and Evening, written by Dr. Henry Valentine, 24o.  
52. A Key to the Key of Scripture, or an exposition with notes upon the Epistle to the Romans, the three first chapters, by William Sclater, Dr. in Divinity and Minister of the word of God at Pitmister in Somersetshire, in 4o.  
53. Sarah and Hagar, or the sixteenth Chapter of Genefis opened in ninteen Sermons, being the first legitimate Essay of the pious labours of that learned, Orthodox, and indefatigable Preacher of the gospel, Mr. Josias Shute. B. D. and above 33 years' Rector of St Mary Woolnoth in Lombardstreet, in Folio▪  
54. Christ's Tears with his love & affection towards Jerusalem, delivered in sundry Sermons upon Luke 19 v. 41, 42. by Richard Maden, B. D. late of Magdalen college in Cam. in. 4.  
55. Three Sermons viz. The benefit of contentation, The Affinity of the faithful, and The lost sheep found, by Mr. Henry Smith. 4.  
56. Ten Sermons preached upon several Sundays, and Saints days, by Peter Hausted Mr. in Arts, and curate at Uppingham in Rutland in 4o.  
57 Eighteen Sermons preached upon the Incarnation and Nativity of our blessed Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, wherein the greatest mysteries of Godliness are unfolded, to the capacity of the Weakest Christian, by John Dawson Oxon. in 4o.  
58. The Mistory of the Defenders of the Faith, discoursing the state of Religion in England during the Reigns of King Henry 8. Edward 6. Queen Mary, and Queen Elizabeth. by C. L. in 4o.  
59 Christian Divinity, written by Edmund Reeve bachelor in divinity, in 4o.  
60. The Communion-Book Catechism expounded by Edmund Reeve bachelor in Divinity, in 4o.  
61. The true and absolute Bishop, wherein is showed how Christ is our only shepherd and Bishop of our souls, by Nicolas Darton, Master in Arts, in 4o.  
62. A description of the newborn Christian, or a lively pattern of the Saint militant child of God, written by Nicholas Hunt, Master in Arts, in 4o.  
63. Divine Meditations upon the 91. Psalm, and on the History of Agag King of Amalek, with an Essay of Friendship written by an honourable person,  
64. An historical Anatomy of Christian Melancholy, by Edmund Gregory Oxon, in 8o.  
65. Lazarus his Rest, a Sermon preached at the funeral of that pious, learned, and Orthodox Divine, Mr. Ephrim Udall, by Thomas, Reeve, B. D:  
66. The Survey of Man, in a Sermon as it was delivered by Mr. John Bishop at his father's funeral.  
67. Enchiridion containing institutions Divine and moral, written by Francis Quarles, 24o.   

Books in Divinity Lately Printed.  
68 THE psalms of David from the new Translation of the Bible, turned into Meter, to be sung after the old tunes used in the Churches; by the Right Reverend Father in God Henry King Bishop of Chichester. 12.  
69. Choice music for three voices, and a thorough-Base composed by Mr. Henry and Mr. William Laws, brothers and servants to his late Majesty; with divers Elegies set in music by several friends upon the death of Mr. William Laws. 4.  
70. Letters between the Lord George Digby and Sir Kenelm Digby Knight, concerning Religion. 8o.  
71. Essays in Divinity by Dr. Donn D. of Saint Paul's, before he entered into holy orders. 12.  
72. Public devotions, or a Collection of Prayers used at sundry times by divers Reverend and godly Divines, together with divine implorations, and an introduction to prayer. 24o.  
73. The Sinners Tears in Meditations and Prayers by Thomas Fettiplace of Peterhouse Camb. 12.  
74. Quaestio Quodlibetica, or a discourse whether it be lawful to take use for money by R. F. Knight.  
75. zions Prospect in its first view presented in a summary of Divine Truths consenting with the faith professed by the Church of England, confirmed from Scripture and reason, composed by Mr. Robert M●ssom Minister: 4o.  
76. Flores Solitudinis, certain rare and elegant pieces, viz. Two excellent discourses. 1 Of Temperance and Patience▪ 2 Of life and death by I. E. Nierembergius. The World contemned; by Eucherius, Bishop of Lions. And the life of Paulinus Bishop of Nola, collected in his sickness and retirement, by Henry Vaughan.  
77. 14. Sermons on several Texts of Scripture with a Catechism written by Willam Gay Rector of Buckland.   

Choice Poems with excellent Translations, by the most eminent wits of this age.  
78. EPigrammata Thomae Mori Angli, in 16o.  
79. Fragmenta Aurea, a collection of all the incomparable Pieces written by Sr. John Sucklin Knight, 8o.  
80. Poems, Songs, Sonnets, Elegies, and Letters by John Donne, with Elegies on the author's death, to which is added divers Copies under his own hand, never before in print. 8o.  
81. Juvenals 16. Satyrs translated by Sir Robert Stapylton, wherein is contained a Survey of the manners and actions of Mankind, with Annotations, 8o.  
82. Musaeus on the loves of Hero and Leander, with Leander's letter to Hero, and her answer, taken out of Ovid, with Annotations by Sir Robert Staplyton, in 12o.  
83. Poems, &c. written by Mr. Edward Waller of Beconsfield, Esq. 8o.  
84. Pastor Fido, the faithful shepherd, a pastoral, newly translated out of the original, by Mr. Richard Fanshaw, Esq; 4o.  
85. Poems, with a discovery of the civil wars of Rome, by Mr. Richard Fanshaw, Esq; in 4o.  
86. Europa, Cupid crucified, Venus' Vigils, with Annotations, by Thomas Stanley, Esq; 8o.  
87. Cooper's Hill, a Poem written by Mr, John Denham Esq; the 2d Edition with Additions, 4o.  
88 Medea, a Tragedy written in Latin by Lucius Annaeus Seneca, Englished by Mr. Edward Sherburn Esq; with Annotations, 8o.  
89. Seneca's answer to Lucilius his Quaere, why good men suffer misfortunes, seeing there is a Divine providence, Englished by Mr. Edward Sherburn, Esq; 8o.  
90. Madagascar with other Poems, by Sr. W. Davenant.  
91. Poems with a Masque by Thomas Carew Esq;. Gentleman of the privy Chamber to his late majesty, revived and enlarged with additions, 8o.  
92. Poems of Mr. John Milton, with a Masque presented at Ludlow Castle before the Earl of Bridgewater, than President of Wales, 8o.  
93. Poems, &c. with a Masque called The Triumph of Beauty, by James Shirley, Gent. 8.  
94. The Mistress, or several Copies of love-verses, written by Mr. Abraham Cowley. 80.  
95. Steps to the Temple, sacred Poems with the delights of the Muses upon several occasions by Richard Crashaw of Cambridge. 12.  
96. Divine Poems written by Francis Quarles 8o.  
97. Clarastella, with other occasional Poems, Elegies, Epigrams, Satyrs, written by R. Heath. Esq:  
98. Poems written by Mr. William Shakespeare.  
99 Arnalte & Lucenda, or the melancholy Knight, a Poem translated by L. Laurence. 4.  
100 The Odes of Casimire, translated, by Mr. George Hills of Newark. 12.  
101. Alarm to Poets by I. L. 4.  
102. Fragmenta Poetica or Miscellanies of poetical Musings, by Nich. Murford Gent. 12.  
103. Hymnus Tabaci, Authore Raphaele Thorio. 8o.  
104. Hymnus Tabaci, a Poem in Honour of Tobacco Heroically composed by Raphael Thorius, made English by Peter Hausted Mr. of Arts, Camb. 8.  
105. Olor Iscanus, a Collection of some select Poems, and Translations, written by Mr. Henry Vaughan  
106. Argalus and Parthenia by Francis Quarles.  
107. The Academy of compliments wherein Ladies, Gentlewomen, scholars and strangers may accommodate their Courtly practice with gentile Ceremonies, complemental, amorous, high expressions and forms of speaking, or writing of Letters, most in fashion, with Additions of many witty Poems and pleasant New songs. 12.   

Poems lately Printed.  
107. POems and Translations, the complete works of Thomas Stanley Esq; 8o.  
105. Choice Poems with Comedies and Trage dies, by Mr. William Cartwright late student of Ch. Ch. in Oxford, and Proctor of the University. The airs and songs set by Mr. Henry Laws, servant to his late Majesty in his public and private music.  
108. Herodian of Alexandria, his imperial History of twenty Roman Caesars, and Emperors of his time, first written in Greek, and now converted into an heroic Poem by C. Stapleton. 4.  
109. The Card of Courtship or the Language of love fitted to the humours of all degrees, sexes and Conditions.   

Incomparable Comedies and Tragedies written by several Ingenious Authors.  
110. COmedies and Tragedies written by Francis Beaumont, and John Fletcher, never printed before, and now published by the author's Originals Copies, containing 34 plays, and a Masque, Fol.  
111. The Elder Brother by Francis Beaumont. and John Fletcher.  
112. The scornful Lady by Francis Beaumont. and John Fletcher.  
113. The Woman Hater by Francis Beaumont. and John Fletcher.  
114. Thierry and Theodoret by Francis Beaumont. and John Fletcher.  
115. Cupid's Revenge by Francis Beaumont. and John Fletcher.  
116. Monsieur Thomas by Francis Beaumont. and John Fletcher.  
117. The two Noble kinsmen by Francis Beaumont. and John Fletcher.  
118. The Country Captain and the Variety, two Comedies written by a person of Honour. 12.  
119. The Sophy, a Tragedy written by Mr. John Denham Esq, Fol.  
120. Brennoralt, or the discontented colonel, a Tragedy written by Sir John Suckling Knight. 4.  
121. The deserving favourite by Mr. Lod. Carlel.  
122. Albovine King of Lombardy by Sir William Davenant.  
123. The Just Italian by Sir William Davenant.  
124. The Cruel Brother by Sir William Davenant.  
125. The Unfortunate Lovers by Sir William Davenant.  
126. Love and Honour by Sir William Davenant.  
127. The Sophister by Dr. Z.  
128. Revenge of Bussy D Ambo is George Chapman  
129. Byron's Conspiracy George Chapman  
130. Byron's Tragedy. George Chapman  
131. Contention for Honour and riches J. Shirley  
132. Triumph of Peace in 4ᵒ J. Shirley  
133. The Duchess of Malfi by John Webster.  
134. The Northern lass by Richard Broome.  
135. The Cid, a Tragicomedy translated out of French by Joseph Rutter Gent. 12.  
136. The Wild Goose Chase a Comedy written by Fr. Beaumont and John Fletcher. Fol.  
137. The Widow, a Comedy by Ben: Johnson, John Fletcher, and T: Middleton.  
138. The changeling by T Middleton and Rowley. 4.  
239. Six new plays. 1. The Brothers. 2. The Sisters. 3. The doubtful Heir. 4. The Imposture. 5. The Cardinal. 6. The Court-Secret, by I. Shirley.  
140. Five new plays. 1. A mad couple well matched. 2 The Novella. 3. The Court beggar. 4. The City Wit. 5▪ The Damoiselle, by Richard Broome  
141. The Tragedy of Alphonsus Emperor of Germany, by George Chapman 4o.  
142. Two Tragedies. viz. Cleopatra Queen of Egypt, and Agrippina Empress of Rome, by Thomas May Esq.   

Plays lately Printed.  
143. THe Gentleman of Venice, A tragicomedy by James Shirley.  
144. The politician, a Tragedy by James Shirley.  
145. The Passionate Lovers in two parts, by Mr. Lodowick Carlel.  
146. Mirza, A Tragedy, really acted in Persia with Annotations by Robert Barron Esq;.  
147. Three new plays, viz. 1 The bashful Lover. 2 The Guardian. 3 The very woman, by Philip Massinger, Gent.   

New and Excellent Romances.  
148. CAssandra the famed Romance, the whole work in five parts, written in French, and now Elegantly rendered into English by a person of quality, Fol.  
149. Ibrahim or the Illustrious Bassa, an excellent new Romance, the whole work in four parts, written in French by Monsieur de Scudery, and now Englished by Henry Cogan Gent. Fol.  
150. Artamenes, or the Grand Cyrus, an excellent new Romance, written by that famous wit of France, Monsieur de Scudery governor of Notre dame, and now Englished by F. G. Esq;. Fol.  
151. The continuation of Artamenes, or the Grand Cyrus, that excellent new Romance, being the third and fourth parts, written by that Famous wit of France, Monsieur de Scudery governor of Notre dame, and now Englished by F. G. Esq;. Fol.  
152. The third Volume of Artamenes or the Grand Cyrus, that excellent new Romance, being the fift and fixed parts, written by that famous wit of France, Monsieur de Scudery governor of Notre dame, and now Englished by F. G. Esq;. Fol.  
153. The fourth Volume of Artamenes, or the Grand Cyrus, that Excellent new Romance, being the seventh and eighth parts, written by that famous Wit of France, Monsieur de Scudery governor of Notre dame, and now englished by F. G. Esq;. Fol.  
154. The History of Polexander, a Romance, Englished by William Browne Gent. Fol.  
155. The History of the Banished Virgin, a Romance translated by I. H. Esq;. Fol.  
156. Casandra the famed Romance, the three first books, Elegantly rendered into English by the Right honourable the Lord George Digby. 8o.  
157. The History of Philoxipes and Policrite, a Romance, made English by an honourable person. 8o.  
158. The History of Don Fenise, a new Romance, written in Spanish by Francisco de las Coveras; Englished by a Person of Honour. 8o.  
159. Aurora Ismenia, and the Prince, with Oronta the Cyprian Virgin, translated by Thomas Stanley Esq;.  
160. Cleopatra, a new Romance, Englished by a Gent. of the Inner Temple, in 8o.  
161. La Stratonica or the unfortunate Queen, a new Romance, translated into English.  
162. Choice Novels, and Amorous Tales written by the most refined wits of Italy, newly translated into English by a person of quality. in 8o.  
163. Nissena, a new Romance, Englished by an honourable person, in 8o.  
164. Dianea, a new Romance, written in Italian by Gio Francisco Loredano, a Noble Venetian, Englished by Sir Aston Cockaine, in 8o.   

Books lately printed for Humphrey Moseley.  
165. A German Diet, or the balance of Europe, wherein the power and weakness, glory, and reproach, virtues and Vices, Plenty and Wants, Advantages and Defects, Antiquity and moderns of all the kingdoms and states of Christendom are Impartially poised by James Howel Esq;. Fol.  
166. Renatus des Cartes'▪ excellent compendium of music with necessary and judicious Animadversions thereupon, by a person of Honour, Illustrated with divers figures in 4o.  
167. The Scarlet gown, or the History of the lives of all the present Cardinals of Rome, written in Italian and Englished by Henry Cogan, Gent. 8.  
168. A discourse of constancy, by Justus Lipsius, faithfully Englished by R. G. sometimes of Ch. Ch. Oxon. containing many sweet consolations for all that are afflicted in body, or in mind. 12.  
169. Le Chemin abrege, or a compendious Method for the attaining of Sciences in a short time, with the Statutes of the Academy of Cardinal Richelieu, Englished by R. G. Gent.  
170. The Academy of Eloquence, containing a complete English rhetoric, with common places and forms to speak and write fluently according to the present mode, together with letters amorous and moral, by Thomas Blunt. Gent. 12.  
171. The Secretary in fashion, or a compendious and refined way of expression in all manner of letters, with instructions how to write letters of all sorts, composed in French by P. St de la Serre, in 8o.  
172. Curia Politiae, or the Apologies of several Princes justifying to the World their most eminent actions by the strength of Reason, and the most exact rules of Policy, by the accurate pen of Monsieur de Scudery, Governer of Notre dame, and now Englished with the figures of many Emperors and Kings.  
173. {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, or observations on the present manners of the English, briefly anatomising the living by the dead, with an useful detection of the Mountebanks of both sexes by Richard Whitlock M.D. late fellow of all soul's college in Oxon 8. 174  
174. Scholae Wintoniensis Phrases Latinae The Latin Phrases of Winchester School, corrected and much augmented with poeticals added, and four Tracts. 1. Of words not to be used by elegant Latinists. 2. The difference of words like one another in sound or signification. 3. Some words governing a subjunctive mood not mentioned in lilies grammar. 4. Concerning {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} & {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} for entering children upon making of Themes, by H. Robinson D. D. sometimes schoolmaster of Winchester college, published for the common use and benefit of grammar schools.  
175. Atheismus Vapulans, or a Treatise against Atheism rationally confuting the Atheists of these times by William Towers, late student of Ch. Ch. Oxon.  
176. De Juramenti obligation promissorij Praelectiones Septem. Of the Obligation of Promissory oaths, seven Lectures read in the Divinity Schools at Oxford by Robert Sanderson D. D. and englished by his late majesty's appointment. 8o.  
177. Politic Maxims and observations written by the most learned Hugo Grotius, translated for the ease and benefit of the English statesmen by H. C. S. T. B.  
178. The perfect Horseman or the experienced secrets of Mr. Markham's fifty years' practice, showing how a man may come to be a general Horse— man by the knowledge of these seven Offices, Viz. The Breeder Feeder Ambler Rider Keeper Buyer Farrier.   

Published with some Additions by Lancelor Therford Practitioner in the same Art. 40. years.  
179. Divine Poems written by Tho. Washborn. B. D.  
180. Buxtorf's Epitome of his Hebrew Grammar, Englished by John Davis Mr. of Arts.  
181. Fasciculus Poematum & Epigrammatûm Miscelaneorum Authore Johanne Donne. D. D.  
182. Poemata Graeca & Latina, à Gulielmo Cartwright, C. C. Oxon.  
183. The Marrow of compliments, containing Amorous Epistles, complemental entertainments, Dialogues, songs, and Sonnets, presentations of gifts, instructions for wooers, with other pleasant passages.   

books newly Printed for Humphrey Moseley.  
184 THe fifth Volume of Artamenes, or the Grand Cyrus, that excellent new Romance; being the ninth and tenth Parts: Written by that famous wit of France, Monsieur de Scudery, governor of Notre dame, and now englished by F. G. Esq.  
185 Elise, or, Innocency guilty; a new Romance, translated into English by John Jennings Gent.  
186 Clelia, an excellent new Romance, written in French, by the exquisite pen of Monsieur de Scudery, governor of Notre dame de la Gard.  
187 Coralbo, a new Romance in three books; written in Italian by Cavalier Gio Francisco Biondi, and now faithfully rendered into English.  
188 The Lusiad, or, Portugall's historical Poem; translated into English by Richard Fanshaw, Esq.  
189 The History of Philosophy, the first Part; by Tho. Stanley, Esq.  
190 The History of the kingdom of Naples, with the lives of all their Kings; written by that famous Antiquary, Scipio Mazzella, with an Addition of what happened during the Rebellion of Massaniello, and continued to this present year, by I. H. Esq;.  
191 Mr. Howel's fourth Volume of familiar Letters, never published before.  
192 Manziny, his most exquisite academical Discourses upon several choice Subjects; turned into French by that famous Wit, Monsieur de Scudery, and into English by an Honourable Lady.  
193 The English Treasury of Wit and Language, digested into common places, by John Cotg●rave, Gent.  
194 Lusus Serius, a philosophical Discourse, of the superiority of the Creatures, by Michael Mayerus.  
195 The Aphorisms of Hippocrates, with a short Comment on them; taken out of Galen, Heurnius, Fuchstus, &c.  
196 Euphrates, or, the waters of the East, by Eugenius Philalethes.  
197. hermetical physic, or the way to preserve and restore health, by Henry Nollius' chemist, and Englished by Henry Vaughan, Gent.  
198 Dr Valentine's private Devotions in Welch.  
199 Mantuan's Eclogues, Englished by Tho. Harvey.  
200 Medici Catholicon; or, a Catholic Medicine for the Diseases of Charity; by John Collop, Dr. of physic.  
201 Poesis Rediviva, or, Poetry revived, by John Collop, M. D.  
202 The Saints Expectation and Reward; A Sermon at the funeral of Mr. Thomas Wiborow, by Michael Thomas Minister of Stockden in Shropshire.  
203 A Sermon against Murder, occasioned by the Massacre of rhe Protestants in the dukedom of Savoy; by William Towers B. D.   

Books Printed this term.  
204. RAgguagli di Parnasso; or, Advertisements from Parnassus: Written in Italian by that Faous Roman Trajano Bocalini, and put into English by the right honourable, Henry Earl of Monmouth.  
205 A complete History of the Lives and reigns of Mary Queen of Scotland, and of her Son and successor, James the Sixth, King of Great Britain, France, and Ireland, by William Sanderson.  
206 The Destruction of Troy, an Essay upon the second Book of Virgil's Aeneis, by John Denham, Esq.  
207 Poems, viz. 1 Miscellanies. 2. The Mistress, or Love-Verses. 3. Pindaric Odes: 4. Davideis, or, a sacred Poem of the Troubles of David; by A. Cowley.  
208 God Incarnate, showing that Jesus Christ is the Only, and the most high God. In four Books, containing Animadversions on Dr. Lushington's commentary upon the Epistle to the Hebrews, by Edmund Porter, late of St. John's Coll. Camb. Prebend of Norwich.  
209 Ducis Buckinghami in Ream Insulam Expeditio: Authore Edovardo Domino Herbert, Barone de Cherbury. Quam publici Juris fecit Timotheus Balduinus, L. L. Doctor è Coll. Omn. Anim. apud Oxonienses Socius.  
210. The Siege of Antwerp, written in Latin by Famianus Strada, Englished by Tho. Lancaster, Gent.  
211 The History of Philosophy, the second Part, by Tho. Stanley Esq.  
212 Clelia, an excellent new Romance, the second Volume: Written in French by the exquisite Pen of Monsieur de Scudery, governor of Notre dame.  
213 Argalus and Parthenia, written by Francis Quarles, and Illustrated with 30 Figures, cut in Copper relating to the Story.  
214 practical arithmetic, in whole Numbers, Fractions, and Decimals; fitted to the several uses of Gentlemen, Merchants, or tradesmen; by Richard Rawlins, Professor thereof, in Great Yarmouth.   

These books are now in the press.  
215. GLossographia, or a Dictionary interpreting all such hard words, whether Hebrew, Greek, Latin, Italian, Spanish, French, &c. as are now used in our Refined English tongue: Also the terms of Divinity, Law, physic, mathematics, Heraldry, Anatomy, War, music, Architecture, explained by Thomas Blount of the Inner Temple, Bar. rester.  
216. Astrea, A Romance written in French by Messire Honore D'Vrfe, and now Translated into English.  
217. An Introduction into the Greek Tongue most plainly delivering the principal matters of the Grammar thereof, composed for their sakes which understand not Latin; and yet are desirous to have competent Knowledge in that language, by Edmund Reeve. B. D. instructor of all the original Tongues.  
218 The Rules of the Latin Grammar construed, which were omitted in the Book called lilies Rules, and the Syntaxis construed by Edmund Reeve. B. D. instructor in all the original Tongues.  
219. Politic Discourses written in Italian by Paul Peruta, Gent. of Venice, Englished by the Right honourable Henry Earl of Monmouth.  
221. Of the Passion of the soul, and contentment of mind, by Peter du Moulin, the son. D. D.   

These Books I do purpose to Print very speedtly.  
222 HEsperides, or The muse's Garden, stored with variety of the choicest flowers of Language and Learning, wherein grave and serious minds may be refreshed with the solid fruits of Philosophy, History, & Cosmography, intermixed with the sweets of Poetry; And the ceremonious Courtier, The Passionate amourist, with his admired Lady, may gather Rarities Suitable to their Fancies, by John Evans, Gent.  
223. Mosaical Philosophy, written in Latin by Robert Fludd, Esq; and Dr in physic, and by himself afterwards translated into English.  
224. Disquisitions upon the Nativity of our Saviour Jesus Christ, by the honourable Sir Isaac Wake.  
225 The Expedition of the Duke of Buckingham into the Isle of Ree, written in Latin by the Right Honourable Edward Lord Herbert of Cherbury, &c. and now rendered into English.  
226. The Life of A satirical Puppy, Called Nim, who worrieth all those satirists he knows, and barks at the rest by W. D.  
227. The Anatomy of profane Love, written in Italian, and Englished by I. S.  
228. Nicholas Flammell his Exposition of his hieroglyphical Figures, with the secret Book of Artephius and the Epistle of John Pontanus concerning the philosopher's Stone. ☞ With an Addition upon the same Subject written by Synetius that most Learned and Famous Grecian Abbot, never Printed before.  
229. Brittain's Ida written by that Renowned Poet Edmund Spencer.  
230. A Discovery of the Hollanders trade of Fishing, and their Circumventing us therein, with the means how to make profit of the fishing, by which they have made and yet do reap so great a benefit, by Sir W. Munson Knight sometimes vice-admiral of England.  
231. Sir, Charles Cornwallis his Negotiation as leaguer Ambassador for Spain.  
232. A Discovery of the State of Christendom, containing many secret passages and hidden Mysteries of the times both past and present with historical and political Observations thereon by a person of Honour.  
233. A Grammar Lecture with Elegies, written by Francis Beaumont Gent.  
234. A Discourse touching peace with Spain and retaining the Netherlands in Protection written by Sir Walter Raleigh Knight; presetned to his Majesty.  
235. A Discourse of the war of Germany with the Lord Chancellor Bacon's Petition and Submission to the House of peers.  
236. Andrea Palladio his four Books of Architecture treating of private Buildings, highways, Piazzas exercising places and Temples, Translated out of Italion, by, H. L. Esq;  
237: The Distresses. By Sir W. Davenant  
238. The fair favourite. By Sir W. Davenant  
239. News from Plymouth. By Sir W. Davenant  
240. The siege. By Sir W. Davenant  
241. The Spartan Ladies. By Lodowick Carlell Gent.  
242. The Discreet Lover or the Fool would be a favourite By Lodowick Carlell Gent.  
243. Osman the Great Turk or the Noble Servant. By Lodowick Carlell Gent.  
244. More Dissemblers than Women. By Tho. Midleton, Gent.  
245. Women beware Women. By Tho. Midleton, Gent.  
246. No wit Help like a woman's. By Tho. Midleton, Gent.