THE Soldier's Fortune: A COMEDY. Acted by their Royal highness's SERVANTS AT THE Duke's Theatre.  
Written by THOMAS OTWAY.  
Quem recitas meus est O Fidentine libellus,  
Sed male cum recitas incipit esse tuus.  
LONDON, Printed for R. Bentley and M. Magnes, at the Posthouse in Russel-Street in Covent-Garden, 1681.   

THE DEDICATION.  
Mr. Bentley,  
I Have often (during this Plays being in the Press) been importuned for a Preface; which you, I suppose, would have speak something in Vindication of the Comedy: Now to please you, Mr. Bentley, I will as briefly as I can speak my mind upon that occasion, which you may be pleased to accept of, both as a Dedication to yourself, and next as a Preface to the Book.  
And I am not a little proud, that it has happened into my thoughts to be the first who in these latter years, has made an Epistle Dedicatory to his Stationer: It is a Compliment as reasonable as it is Just. For, Mr. Bentley, you pay honestly for the Copy; and an Epistle to you is a sort of an Acquittance, and may be probably welcome; when to a Person of higher Rank and Order, it looks like an Obligation for Praises, which he knows he does not deserve, and therefore is very unwilling to part with ready Money for.  
As to the Vindication of this Comedy, between Friends and Acquaintance, I believe it is possible, that as much may be said in its behalf, as heretofore has been for a great many others: But of all the Apish qualities about me, I have not that of being fond of my own Issue; nay, I must confess myself a very unnatural Parent, for when it is once brought into the World, E'en let the Brat shift for itself, I say.  
The Objections made against the merit of this poor Play, I must confess, are very grievous.  
First, Says a Lady, that shall be nameless, because the World may think civilly of her; Fogh! oh Sherru! 'tis so filthy, so bawdy, no modest Woman ought to be seen at it: Let me die, it has made me sick: When the World lies, Mr. Bentley, if that very Lady has not easily digested a much ranker morsel in a little Alehouse towards Paddington, and never made a Face at it: But your true Jilt is a Creature that can extract Bawdy out of the chastest sense, as easily as a Spider can Poison out of a Rose: They know true Bawdy, let it be never so much concealed, as perfectly as Falstaff did the true Prince by instinct: They will separate the true Metal from the Alloy let us temper it as well as we can; some Women are the Touchstones of filthiness. Though I have heard a Lady (that has more modesty than any of those the Critics, and I am sure more wit) say, She wondered at the impudence of any of her Sex, that would pretend to understand the thing called Bawdy. So, Mr. Bentley, for aught I perceive, my Play may be innocent yet, and the Lady mistaken in pretending to the knowledge of a Mystery above he●; though, to speak honestly, she has had besides her Wit a liberal Education; and 〈◊〉 we may credit the World has not buried her Talon neither.  
This is, Mr. Bentley, all I can say in behalf of my Play: Wherefore I throw it into Your Arms, make the best of it you can; praise, it to your Customers: Sell ten thousand of them if possible, and then you will complete the wishes of  
Your Friend and Servant, THO. OTWAY.   


Dramatis Personae.  
CApt. Beaugard. Mr. Betterton.  
Courtine. Mr. Smith.  
Sir Davy Dunce. Mr. noke's.  
Sir jolly jumble. Mr. Leigh.  
Fourbin, A Servant to Beaugard. Mr. jevon.  
Bloody-Bones. Mr. Richards.  
Vermin Servant to Sir Davy. A Boy.  
Lady Dunce. Mrs. Barry.  
Sylvia Mrs. Price.  
Maid  
A Constable, and Watch.   
SCENE, London.   

PROLOGUE, by the Lord Falkland  
FOrsaken Dames with less concern reflect  
On their inconstant Hero's cold neglects,  
Than we (provoked by this Ungrateful Age,)  
Bear the hard Fate of our abandoned Stage;  
With grief we see you ravished from our Arms,  
And Curse the Feeble Virtue of our Charms:  
Curse your false hearts, for none so false as they,  
And curse the Eyes that stole those hearts away.  
Remember Faithless Friends there was a time,  
(But oh the sad remembrance of our Prime!)  
When to our Arms with eager joys ye flew,  
And we believed your treacherous Hearts as true  
As e'er was Nymph of ours to one of you:  
But a more powerful 
* Pope 〈◊〉  Saint enjoys ye now;  
Fraught with sweet sins and absolutions too:  
To her are all your pious Vows addressed,  
She's both your Loves, and your Religion's Test,  
The fairest Prelate of her time and best.  
We own her more deserving far than we,  
A just excuse for your inconstancy.  
Yet 'twas unkindly done to leave us so:  
First to betray with Love, and then undo,  
A horrid Crime you're all addicted to.  
Too soon, alas, your Appetites are cloyed,  
And Phillis rules no more, when once enjoyed:  
But all rash Oaths of Love and constancy,  
With the too short forgotten Pleasures die,  
Whilst she, poor Soul, robbed of her dearest ease,  
Still drudges on, with vain desire to please;  
And restless follows you from place to place,  
For Tributes due to her Autumnal Face:  
Deserted thus by such ungrateful men,  
How can we hope you'll e'er return again?  
Here's no new Charm to tempt ye as before,  
Wit now's our only Treasure left in store,  
And that's a Coin will pass with you no more▪  
You who such dreadful Bullies would appear,  
(True Bullies! quiet when there's danger near)  
Show your great Souls in damning Poets here.   


A Catalogue of some Plays Printed for R. Bently and M. Magnes, 〈◊〉 Russel-Street, near Covent-Garden.  
ALL the Tragdies and Comedies of Francis Beamont and john Fle●●er, in one Volume, containing fifty one Plays.  
Tartuss, or the French Puritan.  
Forced Marriage, or the Jealous Bride.  
English Monsieur.  
All Mistaken, or the mad Couple.  
Generous Enemies.  
Andromacha: A Tragedy.  
Calisto: or the Masque at Court.  
Country-Wit, A Comedy.  
Destruction of jerusalem, 2 parts.  
Miseries of Civil War.  
Henry 6. with the Murder of the Duke of Gloucester.  
Nero, a Tragedy.  
Gloriana, a Tragedy.  
Sophonisba, or Hanibals overthrow.  
Alexander the Great, or the Rival Queens.  
Mithridates' King of Pontus.  
Caesar Borgia, Son of Pope Alexander 6.  
Oedipus, King of Thebes.  
Theodosius, or the Force of Love,  
The Plain Dealer.  
The Town-Fop, or Sir Timothy Taudry.  
Abdellazar, or the Moors Revenge.  
Madam Fickle: or the Witty False one.  
The Fond Husband, or the Plotting Sisters.  
The Virtuous Wife, or good luck at last.  
The Fool turned Critic, a Comedy.  
Squire Oldsap, or the Night Adventurers.  
The Mistaken Husband, a Comedy.  
Mr. Limberham, or the Kind Keeper.  
Notes and Observations on the Empress of Morocco.  
The Orphan, or Unhappy Marriage.  
The Soldier's Fortune.  
Sertorius, A Tragedy.   

Novels Printed this Year, 1680.  
The Amours of the King of Tamaran.  
The Amours of the French King and Madam Laniler.  
The Amours of Madam and the Count de Guich.  
The Pilgrim: A Satirical Novel on the horrible Villainies of those persons.  
The Secret History of the Earl of Essex and Q. Elizabeth.    

THE Soldier's Fortune.  
ACT. I. SCENE I.  Enter Beaugard, Courtine, and Fourbin. Beau. 
APox o' Fortune! Thou art always teizing me about Fortune: Thou risest in a Morning with ill luck in thy Mouth; Nay, never eatest a Dinner, but thou sighest two hours after it, with thinking where to get the next. Fortune be damned, since the worlds so wide.  Cour. 
As wide as it is; 'tis so throng'd, and crammed with Knaves and Fools, that an honest man can hardly get a living in it.  Beau. 
Do, rail, Courtine, do, it may get thee employment.  Cour. 
At you I ought to rail▪ 'twas your fault we left our Employments abroad to come home, and be Loyal, and now we as Loyally starve for it.  Beau. 
Did not thy Ancestors do it before thee, man? I tell thee, Loyalty and Starving are all one: The old Cavaliers got such a trick of it in the King's Exile, that their posterity could never thrive since.  Cour. 
'Tis a fine Equipage I am like to be reduced to: I shall be e'er long as greasy as an Alsatia Bully; this a flopping Hat, pined up on one side, with a sandy weather-beaten Perruque, dirty Linned, and to complete the Figure, a long scandalous Iron Sword jarring at my Heels, like a—  Beau. 
Snarling thou meanest like its Master.  Cour. 
My Companion's the worthy Knight of the most Noble Order of the Post: Your Peripatetrick Philosophers of the Temple walks, Rogues in Rags, and yet not honest: Villains that undervalue Damnation, will forswear themselves for a Dinner, and hang their Fathers For half a Crown.  Beau. 
I am ashamed to hear a Soldier talk of starving.  Cour. 
Why, what shall I do? I can't steal!—  Beau. 
Though thou canst not steal, thou hast other vices enough for any Industrious young fellow to live comfortably upon.  Cour. 
What wouldst thou have me turn Rascal, and run cheating up and down the Town for a livelihood? I would no more keep a Blockhead company, and endure his Nauseous nonsense in hopes to get him, than I would be a drudge to an old Woman, with Rheumatic Eyes, hollow Teeth, and stinking breath for a pensioa: Of all Rogues I would not be a Foolmonger.  Beau. 
How well this niceness becomes thee! I'd fain see thee e'en turn Parson in a pet, o'purpose to rail at all those vices which I know thou naturally art fond of: Why surely an Old Lady's pension need not be so despicable in the eyes of a disbanded Officer, as times go Friend.  Cour. 
I am glad, Beaugard you think so.  Beau. 
Why thou shalt think so too man; be ruled by me, and I'll bring thee into good company, Families, Courtine, Families, and such Families, where formality's a scandel and pleasure is the business, where the Women are all Wanton, and the Men all Witty, you Rogue.  Cour. 
What, some of your Worships Wapping acquaintance that you made last time you came over for recruits, and Spirited away your Landladies Daughter, a Volunteering with you into France.  Beau. 
I'll bring thee, 〈◊〉, where Cuckoldom in credit, and lewdness laudable, where thou shalt wallow in pleasures and preferments, rival all day, and every Night lie in the Arms of melting beauty, sweet as Roses, and as Springs refreshing.  Cour. 
〈…〉 thou wouldest tell me where new Levies are to be raised; a Pox of Whoever when a man has not Money to mak'e●● Comfortable.  Beau. 
That shall shower upon us in abundance, and for instance, know to thy everlasting amazement all this dropped out of the Clouds so day.  Cour. 
Ha! Gold by this light!—  Fourb 
Out of the Clouds!—  Beau. 
Ay hold! does it not smell of the sweet hand than 〈◊〉, smell— smell you dog—  [To Fourbin. [Fourbin smells to the handful of gold, and gathers up some pieces in his Mouth. Four. 
Truly, Sir, of Heavenly sweetness: and 〈…〉  Cour. 
Dear, 〈◊〉 if thou hast▪ any good Nature 〈◊〉 thee; if thou wouldst not have me hang myself before my time, tell me where the Devil 〈◊〉 that helped thee to this, that I may go make a bargain with him presently: Speak, speak, or I am a lost Man.  Beau. 
Why thou must know this Devil which I have given my Soul too already, and must, I suppose have my Body very speedily lives I know not where, and may for aught I know be a real Devil; but if it be 'tis the best natured Devil under Beelzebubs dominion that I'll swear too.  Cour. 
But how came the gold then?  Beau. 
To deal freely with my Friend, I am lately happened into the acquaintance of a very Reverend pimp, as fine a discreet sober gray bearded old Gentleman as one would wish; as good a natured public spirited Person as the Nation holds; one that is never so happy as when he is bringing good people together, and promoting civil understanding betwixt the sexes: Nay, rather than want employment, he will go from one end of the Town to t'other to procure my Lords little Dog to be civil to my Ladies little languishing Bitch.  Cour. 
A very worthy Member of the Commonwealth!  Beau. 
This noble Person one day— but Fourbin can give you a more particular account of the matter; sweet Sir, if you please tell us the story of the first encounter betwixt you and Sir jolly jumble, you must know that's his Title.  Fourb. 
Sir, it shall be done— walking one day upon the Piazza about three of the Clock i'th' after Noon, to get me a Stomach to my dinner, I chance to encounter a Person of goodly presence, and worthy appearance, his Beard and Hair white, grave and comely, his countenance ruddy Plump smooth and cheerful; who perceiving me also equipt as I am with a mien and Air which might well inform him, I was a Person of no inconsiderable quality, came very respectfully up to me, and, after the usual ceremonies between Persons of parts and breeding had past, very humbly inquired of me what is it a Clock— I presently understand by the question, that he was a man of parts and business, told him, I did presume it was at most but nicely turned of three—  Beau. 
Very Courtlike, civil, quaint, and new I think.  Fourb. 
The freedom of commerce increasing after some little inconsiderable questions pour po●●er●le temps and so he was pleased to offer me the courtesle of a glass of Wine: I told him I very seldom drank, but if he so pleased, I would do myself the honour to present him with a dish of meat at an eating House hard by, where I had an interest.  Cour. 
Very well: I think this Squire of thine, Beauggard, is as accomplished a Person as any of the employment I ever saw.  Beaug. 
Let the Rogue go on.  Four. 
In short we agreed and went together as soon as we entered the Room▪ I am your most humble Servant, Sir, says he— I am the meanest of your Vassals, Sir, said I— I am very happy in lighting into the acquaintance of so worthy a Gentleman as you appear to be, Sir, said he again— worthy, Sir jolly, then came I upon him again o' t'other side (for you must know by that time I had gropt out his Title) I kiss your hands from the bottom of my heart, which I shall be always ready to lay at your Feet.  Cour. 
Well, Fourbin, and what replied the Knight then?  Four. 
Nothing, he had nothing to say, his sense was transported with admiration of my parts, so we sat down, and after some pause, he desired to know by what title he was to distinguish the person that had so highly honoured him—  Beau. 
That is as much as to say▪ Sir, whose Rascal you were.  Fourb. 
Sir, you may make as hold with your poor Slave as you please— I told him those that knew me well were pleased to call me the Chevalier Fourbin, that I was a Cadel of the Ancient Family of the Fourbinois and that I had had the honour of serving the great Monarch of France in his Wars in Flanders, where I contracted great Familiarity, and Intimacy with a gallant Officer of the English, Troops in that service one Captain Beaugard.  Beau. 
Oh, Sir, you did me too much honour, what a true bred Rogue's this!—  Cour. 
Well but the Money, Fourbin, the Money.  Four. 
Beaugard, 〈◊〉 Beaugard, says he ●— ay it must be so,— a black man, is he not?— 〈◊〉, says I, blackish— a dark brown— full Faced— yes,— a sly subtle observing eye?— the same— a strong built well made man?— right— a devellish fellow for a Wench, a devilish fellow for a Wench, I warrant him; a thundering Rogue upon occasion, Beaugard! a Thundering fellow for a Wench, I must be acquained with him.  Cour. 
But to the money, the money man, that's the thing I would be acquainted withal.  Beau. 
This civil Gentleman of the Chevaliers acquaintance comes yesterday morning to my Lodging, and seeing my Picture in Minature upon the Toylet, told me with the greatest ecstasy in the World, that was the thing he came to me about: He told me there was a Lady of his acquaintance had some favourable thoughts of me and I gad, says he, she's a hummer, such a bona Roba ah-h-h. So without more ado begs me to lend it him till dinner (for we concluded to eat together) so away he scuttled with as great joy as if he had found the Philosopher's stone.  Cour. 
Very well.  Beau. 
At Lockets we met again: where after a thousand grimaces to show how much he was pleased, instead of my Picture, presents me with the contents aforesaid; and told me the Lady desired me to accept of 'em for the Picture which she was much transported withal, as well as with the Original.  Cour. 
Ha!—  Beau. 
Now, whereabouts this taking quality lies in me, the Devil take me Ned if I know: But the Fates Ned, the Fates!  Cour. 
A Curse on the Fates! Of all Strumpet's Fortunes the basest, 'twas Fortune made me a Soldier, a Rogue in Red, the grievance of the Nation, Fortune made the peace just when we were upon the brink of a War; then Fortune disbanded us, and lost us two Months pay: Fortune gave us Debentures instead of ready Money, and by very good Fortune I sold mine, and lost heartily by it, in hopes the grinding ill natured dog that bought it will never get a shilling for't—  Beaug. 
Leave off thy railing for shame, it looks like a Cur that barks for want of bones; come times may mend, and an honest Soldier be in fashion again—  Cour. 
These greasy fat unwieldy wheeting Rogues that live at home and brood over their bags, when a fit of fear's upon 'em then if one of us pass but by, all the Family is ready at the door to cry, Heaven's bless you, Sir, the Laird go along with you.  Beau. 
Ah good men, what pity 'tis such proper Gentlemen should ever be out of Employment.  Cour. 
But when the business is over, than every Parish Bawd that goes but to a Conventicle twice a Week, and pays but scot and lot to the Parish, shall roar out faugh, ye Lousy Red-coat rake hells▪ hout ye Caterpillars, ye Locusts of the Nation, you are the Dogs that would enslave us all, plunder our Shops, and ravish our Daughters, ye Scoundrels.  Beau. 
I must confess ravishing aught to be regulated, it would destroy commerce, and many a good Sober Matron about this Town might lose the selling of her Daughter's Maidenhead, which were a great grieyance to the people, and a particular Branch of property lost, Fourbin.  Four. 
Your Worship's pleasure.  Beau. 
Run like a Rogue as you are, and try to find Sir jolly, and desire him to meet me at the blue Posts in the Hay-market about 12, we'll Dine together; I must inquire farther into yesterday adventure, in the mean time, Ned, here's half the prize to be doing withal, old friends must preserve Correspondence, we have shared good Fortune together and had shall never part us.  Cour. 
Well, thou wilt certainly die in a Ditch for this, hast thou no more grace then, to be a true Friend, nay, to part with thy money to thy Friend; I grant you a Gentleman may swear and lie for his Friend, pimp for his Friend, hang for his Friend, and so forth: but to part with ready money is the devil.  Beau. 
Stand aside either I am mistaken, or yonder's Sir jolly coming; now Courtine, will I show thee the Flower of Knighthood▪ Ah, Sir jolly.  Enter Sir Jolly. Sir jol. 
My Hero! my darling! my Ganymede! how dost thou? Strong! wanton! lusty! rampant! hah, ah, ah! She's thine Boy▪ odd she's thine, plump, soft, smooth, wanton! hah, ah, ah! Ah Rogue, ah Rogue! here's shoulders, here's shape! there's a Foot and Leg, here's a Leg, here's a Leg— Quaa-a-a-a.  [Squeaks like a Cat, and tickles Beaugards Legs. Cour. 
What an old Goat's this.  Sir jol. 
Child, Child, Child, who's that? A friend of thine! a friend o'thine? A pretty fellow, odd a very pretty fellow, and a strong dog I'll warrant him, how dost do dear heart? prithee let me kiss thee, I'll swear and vow I will kiss thee, ha, ha, he, he, he, he, a Toad, A Toad, ah Toa-a-a-ad—  Cour. 
Sir, I am your humble Servant.  Beau. 
But the Lady, Sir jolly, the Lady, how does the Lady, what says the Lady, Sir jolly?  Sir jol. 
What says the Lady! why she says— she says— odd she has a delicate Lip, such a Lip, so red, so hard, so plump, so blub▪ I fancy I am eating Cherries every time I think on't— and for her Neck and Breasts and her— odds life; I'll say no more, not a word more, but I know, I know—  Beau. 
I am sorry for that with all my Heart; do you know, say you, Sir, and would you put off your mubled orts, your offal upon me—  Sir jol. 
Hush, hush, hush! have a care, as I live and breathe, not I; alack and well a day I am a poor old fellow decayed and done: All's gone with me Gentlemen, but my good Nature, odd I love to know how matters go, though now and then to see a pretty Wench, and a young Fellow Touse and Rouse and Frouze and Mowze; odd I love a young fellow dearly, faith dearly—  Cour. 
This is the most extraordinary rogue, I ever met withal.  Beau. 
But Sir jolly, in the first place, you must know, I have sworn never to marry.  Sir jol. 
I would not have thee man, I am a Bachelor myself, and been a whore Master all my life, besides she's married already man, her Husband's an old greasy, untoward, ill natured, slovenly, Tobacco taking Cuckold, but plaguy ●ealous.  Beau. 
Already a Cuckold, Sir jolly.  Sir jol. 
No that shall be my Boy, thou shalt make him one, and I'll pimp for thee dear heart, and shan't I hold the door, shan't I peep hah, shan't I you devil, you little dog shan't I?—  Beau. 
What is it, I'd not grant to oblige my Patron.  Sir jol. 
And then dost hear, I have a lodging for thee in my own house; dost hear old Soul, in my own house: She lives the very next door man, there's but a Wall to part her Chamber and thine, and then for a peep hole, odds fish I have a peep hole for thee; sbud I'll show thee, I'll show thee—  Beau. 
But when, Sir jolly, I am in haste, impatient.  Sir jol. 
Why this very night man; poor Rogue's in haste, poor Rogue; but hear you—  Cour. 
The matter?  Sir jol. 
Shan't we dine together?  Beau. 
With all my heart.  Sir jol. 
The Maw begins to empty, get you before and bespeak Dinner at the blue posts; while I stay behind and gather up a dish of Whores for a desert.  Cour. 
Be sure that they be lewd drunken stripping Whores, Sir jolly, that won't be affectedly squeamish and troublesome.  Sir jol. 
I warrant you.  Cour. 
I love a well disciplined Whore, that shows all the tricks of her profession with a wink; like an old Soldier that understands all his exercise by beat of Drum.  Sir jol. 
A Thief, sayest thou so! I must be better acquainted with that fellow; he has a notable Nose; a hard brawny Carl— true and trusty, and mettle I'll warrant him.  Beau. 
Well, Sir jolly, you'll not fail us?—  Sir jol. 
Fail ye! am I a Knight? hark ye Boys. I'll muster this evening, such a Regiment of Rampant. Roaring, Roysterous Whores, that shall make more noise than if all the Cats in the Hay market were in Conjunction: Whores ye Rogues, that shall swear with you, drink with you, talk Bawdy with you, fight with you, scratch with you, lie with you, and go to the Devil with you, shan't we be very merry, hah!—  Cour. 
As merry as Wine, Women and Wickedness can make us.  Sir jol. 
Odd that's well said again, very well said, as merry as Wine, Women and wickedness can make us: I love a fellow that is very wicked dearly; methinks there's a spirit in him, there's a sort of a tantara, rara, tantara, ra ra, ah ah h h well, and won't ye, when the Women come, won't ye, and shall I not see a little sport amongst you; well get ye gone; ah Rogues, ah Rogues, da da, I'll be with you, da da—  [Exeunt Beaugard, and Courtine. Enter several Whores, and three 〈◊〉. 1 Bul. 
In the name of Satan what Whores are those in their Copper 〈◊〉, yonder?  1 Who. 
Well I'll swear, Madam, 'tis the finest Evening: I love thee, Mall, mightily.  2 Bul. 
Let's huzza the Bulkers.  2. Whor. 
Really, and so do I, because there's always good company, and one meets with such Civilities from every body.  3. Bul. 
Damned Whores, hout ye filthies.  3. Whor. 
Ay, and then I love extremely to show myself here, when I am very fine, to vex those poor Devils that call themselves Virtues, and are very scandalous and Crapish, I'll swear; O Crimine, who's yonder! Sir jolly jumble, I vow.  1 Bul. 
Fogh! Let's leave the nasty Sows to Fools, and Diseases.  1 Where▪ 
Oh Papa, Papa! where have you been these two days, Papa?  2 Who. 
You are a precious Father indeed, to take no more care of your Children: We might be dead for all you, you naughty Dady, you.  Sir jol. 
Dead, my poor Fubses! odd I had rather all the Relations I have were dead, a dad I had: Get you gone you little Devils Bubbies; oh Law there's Bubbies! odd I'll bite 'em, odd ay will.  1 Whor. 
Nay, fie, Papa; I swear you'll make me angry, except you carry us, and treat us to Night, you have promised me a treat this Week, wont you Papa.  2 Whor. 
Ay, wont you Dad.  Sir jol. 
Odds so, odds so, well remembered! get you got, don't stay talking; get you gone, yonder's, a great Lord, the Lord Beaugard, and his Cousin the Baron, the Count, the Marquis, the Lord knows what, Monsieur Courtine newly come to Town, odds so.  3 Whor. 
Oh Law, where Dady where? Oh dear, a Lord.  I Whor. 
Well, you are the Purest Papa; but when be they must, Papa—  Sir jolly. 
I won't tell you, you Jipsies, So I wont— except you tickle me— 'sbud they are brave fellows all Tall, and not a bit small, odd one of 'em has a devilish deal of Money.  1 Whor. 
Oh dear, but which is he, Papa.  2. Whor. 
Shan't I be in Love with him, Dady.  Sir jol. 
What no body tickle me! no body tickle me?— not yet, tickle me a little maly— tickle me a little jenny— do He he he he he he— (They tickle him. No more, oh dear, oh dear! poor Rogues, so so, no more, nay, if you do, if you do, odd I'll I'll I'll—  3 Why 
What, what will you do trow?—  Sir jol. 
Come along with me, come along with me, sneak after me at a distance, that no body take notice, Swinging fellows maly— Swinging fellows jenny, a Devilish deal of Money, get you afore me then, you little d●ppappers, ye Wasps, ye wagtails, get young on, I say, swinging fellows—  (Exeunt Sir Jolly, with the Whores. Enter Lady Dunce and Sylvia. Lady D. 
die a Maid, Sylvia! sie for shame! what a scandalous resolution's that; five thousand Pounds to your Portion and leave it all to Hospitals, for the innocent recreation hereafter of leading Apes in Hell, fie for shame!  Sylvia. 
Indeed such another charming Animal as your Consort, Sir David, might do much with me; 'tis an unspeakable blessing to lie all night by a Horseload of diseases; a beastly, unsayory, old, groaning, grunting, wheazing Wretch, that smells of the Grave he's going to already, from such a curse and Hair-Cloath next my skin good Heaven deliver me!  Lady D. 
Thou mistakest the use of a Husband, Silvia. They are not meant for Bedfellows, heretofore indeed 'twas a fulsome fashion, to lie o'nights with a Husband; but the world's improved and Customs altered.  Sylu. 
Pray instruct then what the use of a Husband is.  Lady D. 
Instead of a Gentleman-Usher for Ceremonies sake to be in waiting on set days, and particular occasions; but the Friend Cousin is the Jewel unvaluable.  Sylu. 
But, Sir David, Madam will be difficult to be so Governed; I am mistaken, if his Nature is not too Jealous to be blinded.  Lady Du. 
So much the better, of all, the jealous Fool is easiest to be deceived: For observe, where there's jealousy there's always fondness; which if a Woman, as she ought to do, will make the right use of the Husband's fears shall not so awake him on one side as his dotage shall blind him on the other.  Sylu. 
Is your Piece of mortality such a doting Doodle, is he so very fond of you.  Lady D. 
No, but he has the vanity to think that I am very fond of him, and if he be jealous, 'tis not so much for fear I do abuse, as that in time I may, and therefore imposes this consinement on me though he has other divertisments that take him off from my enjoyment; which make him so loathsome no Woman but must hate him.  Sylu. 
His private divertisements I am a stranger to.  Lady D. 
Then for his Person 'tis incomparably odious, he has sucha breath, one kiss of him were enough to cure the fits of the Mother, 'tis worse than Asa foetida.  Sylu. 
Oh hideous!  Lady D. 
Every thing that's nasty he affects, clean Linen he says is unwholesome, and to make him more charming he's continually eating of Garlic and chewing Tobacco.  Silu. 
Fogh! this is love! this is the blessing of Matrimony.  Lady Du. 
Rail not so unreasonably against love, Silvia; As I have dealt freely and acknowledged to thee the passion I have for Beaugard; so methinks, Silvia need not conceal her good thoughts of her Friend; do not I know Courtine sticks in your stomach?  Sylu. 
If he does, I'll assure you he shall never get to my heart, but can you have the Conscience to love another man now you are married? what do you think will become of you.?  Lady D. 
I tell thee, Sylvia, I never was married to that Engine we have been talking of, my parents indeed made me say something to him after a Priest once, but my heart went not along with my tongue, I minded not what it was for my thoughts, Sylvia, for these seven years have been much better employed— Beaugard! Ah curse on the day that first sent him into France!  Sylu. 
Why so I beseech you?  Lady D. 
Had he stayed here, I had not been sacrificed to the Arms of this monument of Man, for the bed of death could not be more cold, than his has been, he would have delivered me from the Monster, for even then I loved him, and was apt to think my kindness not neglected.  Sylu. 
I find indeed your Ladyship had good thoughts of him.  Lady D. 
Surely 'tis impossible to think too well of him, for he has wit enough to call his good nature in question, and yet good nature enough to make his wit be suspected.  Sylu. 
But how do you hope ever to get sight of him, Sir David's watchfulness is invincible. I dare swear he would smell out a Rival if he were in the house only by natural instinct, as some that always sweat when a Cat's in the Room, than again, Beaugard's a Soldiers and that's a thing the old Gentleman you know loves dearly.  Lady D. 
There lies the greatest comfort of my uneasy life he is one of those Fools forsooth, that are led by the Nose by Knaves to rail against the King and the Government, and is mightly fond of being thought of a party, I have had hopes this twelve month to have heard of his being in the Gatehouse for Treason.  Sylu. 
But I find only yourself the Prisoner all this while.  Lady D. 
At present indeed I am so, but Fortune I hope will smile, wouldst thou but be my Friend, Sylvia.  Sylu. 
In any mischievous design withal my heart.  Lady D. 
The conclusion, Madam, may turn to your satisfaction, but you have no thoughts of Courtine.  Sylu. 
Not I, I'll assure you Cozen.  Lady D. 
You don't think him well shaped, straight and proportionable.  Sylu. 
Considering he eats but once a Week, the man is well enough.  Lady D. 
And then wears his clothes you know filthily and like a horrid Sloven.  Sylu. 
Filthily enough of all Conscience, with a thread bare Red-Coat, which his Tailor ●●ns him for to this day, over which a great broad greasy bury Belt, enough to turn any one's Stomach but a disbanded Soldier; a Perruquetyed up in a knot to excuse its want of combing, and then because he has been a Man a Arms, he must wear two Tussles of a Beard forsooth, to lodge a dunghill of snuff upon, to keep his Nose in good humour.  Lady D. 
Nay, now I am suro that thou lovest him.  Sylu. 
So far from it, that I protest eternally against the whole sex.  Lady D. 
That time will best demonstrate, in the mean while to our business.  Sylu. 
As how, Madam.  Lady▪ D. 
To night must I see Beaugard, they are this minute at Dinner in the hay-market; now to make my evil genius, that haunts me every where, my thing called a Husband, himself to assist his poor Wife, at a dead lift, I think would not be unpleasant.  Sylu. 
But 'twill be impossible  Lady D. 
I am apt to be persuaded rather very easy, you know our good and friendly Neighbour, Sir jolly.  Sylu. 
Out on him beast, he's always talking silthily to a body, If he sits but at the table with one, he'll be making nasty figures in the Napkins.  Lady D. 
He and my sweet yoke fellow are the most intimate friends in the world, so that partly out of neighbourly kindness, as well as the great delight he takes to be meddling in matters of this nature, with a great deal of pains and industry procured me Beaugards picture, and given him to understand how well a Friend of his in Petticoats, called myself, wishes him.  Sylu. 
But what's all this to the making the Husband instrumental, for I must confess of all creatures a Husbands the thing that's odious to me.  Lady D. 
That must be done this night: I'll in●stantly to my chamber take my bed in a pet and send for Sir David.  Sylu. 
But which way then must the Lover come?  Lady D. 
Nay, I'll betray Beaugard to him, show him the picture he sent me, and beg of him as he tenders his own honour, and my quiet, to take some course to secure me from the scandalous solicitations of that innocent Fellow.  Sylu. 
And so make him the property, the go-between, to bring the affair to an issue the more decently.  Lady D. 
Right, Sylvia, 'tis the best office a Husband can do a Wife; I mean an old husband; bless us to be yoked in Wedlock with a paralytic, coughing, decrepit Dotrell, to be a dry Nurse all one's life time to an old Child of sixty five, to lie by the Image of Death a whole night, a dull immovable, that has no sense of life, but through its pains, the Pigeons as happy that's laid to a sick man's feet, when the world has given him over; for my part this shall henceforth be my prayer,  

Cursed be the memory; nay, double cursed,  
Of her that wedded Age for interest first;  
Though worn with years, with fruitless wishes full,  
'Tis all day troublesome, and all night dull,  
Who wed with Fools indeed lead happy lives,  
Fools are the fittest finest things for Wives;  
Yet old men Profit bring as Fools bring ease,  
And both make Youth and Wit much better please.    

ACT. II  Enter Sir Jolly, Beaugard, Courtine, and Fourbin. Court. 
SIR jolly is the glory of the Age.  Sir jol. 
Nay now, Sir, you honour me too far.  Beang. 
He's the delight of the young, and wonder of the old.  Sir jol. 
I swear Gentlemen you make me blush.  Gour. 
He deserves a Statue in Gold, at the charge of the Kingdom.  Sir jol. 
Out upon't, fie for shame: I protest I'll leave your comcompany if you talk so; but faith they were pure Whores, daintily dutiful Strumpets, ha! udds-bud, they'd— have stripped for t'other Bottle.  Beau. 
Truly, Sir jolly, you are a man of very extraordinary discipline, I never saw Whores under better command in my life.  Sir joll. 
Pish, that's nothing man, nothing, I can send for forty better when I please, Doxies that will skip, strip, leap, trip, and do any thing in the world, any thing old Soul.  Gour. 
Dear, dear Sir jolly, where and when?  Sir jol. 
Odd as simply as I stand here her Father was a Knight.  Beau. 
Indeed Sir jolly, a Knight say you?  Sir jol. 
Ay, but a little decayed, I'll assure you she's a very good Gentlewoman born.  Cour. 
Ay, and a very good Gentlewoman bred too.  Sir jol. 
Ay, and so she is.  Beau. 
But Sir jolly, how goes my business forward, when shall I have a view of the quarry I am to fly at?  Sir jol. 
Alas a day, not so hasty, soft and fair I beseech you, ah my little Son of thunder, if thou hadst her in thy arms now between a pair of sheets, and I under the Bed to see fair play Boy, geminy! what would become of me? What would become of me? there would be doings, oh Lawd, I under the bed!  Beau. 
Or behind the hangings, Sir jolly, would not that do as well.  Sir jol. 
Ah no, under the bed against the world, and then it would be very dark, hah!  Beau. 
Dark to choose.  Sir jol. 
No, but a little light would do well, a small glimmering Lamp, just enough for me to steel a peep by; oh lamentable! oh lamentable, I won't speak a word more, there would be a trick! oh rare you friend, oh rare! odds so not a word more, odds so yonder comes the Monster that must be the Cuckold Elect, step step aside and observe him, if I should be seen in your company, 'twould spoil all.  Beau. 
For my part I'll stand the meeting of him, one way to promote a good understanding with a Wife, is first to get acquainted with her Husband.  Enter Sir David. Sir Dau. 
Well of all blessings, a discreet Wife is the greatest that can light upon a man of years: had I been married to any thing but and Angel now, what a Beast had I been by this time, well I am the happiest old Fool! 'tis an horrid Age that we live in, so that an honest man can keep nothing to himself; if you have a good estate, every covetous Rogue'ls longing for 〈◊〉 (truly I love a good estate dearly myself;) if you have a handsome Wife, every smoothfac'd Coxcomb will be combing and cocking at her, flesh-flies are not so troublesome to the shambles, as those sort of Infects are to the Boxes in the Playhouse: But virtue is a great blessing, an unvaluable treasure, to tell me herself that a Villain had tempted her, and give me the very Picture, the enchantment that he sent to bewitch her, it strikes me dumb with admiration; here's the Villain in effigy. [Pulls out the Picture] Odd a very handsome fellow, a dangerous Rogue I'll warrant him, such fellows as these now should be fettered like unruly Colts, that they might not leap into other men's pastures; here's a Nose now, I could find in my heart to cut it off, damned Dog, to dare to presume to make a Cuckold of a Knight! bless us what will this world come to! well poor Sir David down, down, on thy knees and thank thy stars for this deliverance.  Beau. 
'Sdeath what's that I see? Sure 'tis the very Picture which I sent by Sir jolly, if so, by this light, I am damnably Jilted.  Sir Da. 
But now if.—  Beau. 
Surely he does not see us yet.  Four. 
See you, Sir, why he has but one eye, and we are on his blind side; I'll dumb found him.  [Strikes him on the shoulder. Sir Da. 
Who the Devils this? Sir, Sir, Sir, who are you Sir?  Beau. 
Ay, ay, 'tis the same, now a pox of all amorous adventures, 'sdeath I'll go beat the impertinent pimp that drew me into this fooling.  Sir Da. 
Sir, methinks you are very curious.  Beau. 
Sir, perhaps I have an extraordinary reason to be so.  Sir Da. 
And perhaps, Sir, I care not for you, nor your Reasons neither.  Beau. 
Sir, if you are at leisure, I would beg the Honour to speak with you.  Sir Da. 
With me, Sir? What's your business with me?  Beau. 
I would not willingly be troublesome; though it may be I am so at this time.  Sir Da. 
It may be so too, Sir.  Beau. 
But to be known to so worthy a Person as you are, would be so great an honour, so extraordinary a happiness, that I could not avoid taking this opportunity of tendering you my Service.  Sir Da. 
Smooth Rogue, who the Devil is this fellow? (Aside.) But Sir, you were pleased to nominate business Sir, I desire with what speed you can to know your business, Sir, that I may go about my business.  Beau. 
Sir, if I might with good manners, I should be glad to inform myself, whose picture that is which you have in your hand, methinks it is very fine painting.  Sir Da. 
Picture, Friend, picture! Sir, 'tis the resemblance of a very impudent fellow, they call him Captain Beaugard forsooth, but he is in short a rakehell, a poor lousy beggarly disbanded devil, do you know him friend?—  Beau. 
I think I have heard of such a vagabond, the truth on't is he is a very impudent fellow.  Sir Da. 
Ay, a damned Rogue.  Beau. 
Oh a notorious scoundrel!  Sir Da. 
I expect to hear he's hanged by next Sessions.  Beau. 
The truth on't is, he has deserved it long ago; but did you ever see him, Sir David.  Sir Da. 
Sir— does he know me?  [Aside. Beau. 
Because I fancy that Mignature is very like him, pray Sir, whence had it you?—  [Compares the Picture with Beaugard's Face. Sir Da. 
Had it, Friend? had it! whence had it I— bless us▪ what have I done now this the very Traitor himself, if he should be desperate now, and put his sword in my guts!— s●itting my nose will be as bad as that, I have but one eye left neither, and may be— oh but this is the King's Court, odd that's well remembered he dares not but be civil here; I'll try to out-huff him, whence had it you?  Beau. 
Ay, Sir, whence had it you? that's English in my Country, Sir.  Sir Da. 
Go, Sir, you are a Rascal.  Beau. 
How!  Sir Da. 
Sir, I say, you are a Rascal, a very impudent Rascal, nay, I'll prove you to be a Rascal, if you go to that—  Beau. 
Sir, I am a Gentleman and a Soldier.  Sir Da. 
So much the worse, Soldiers have been Cuckold makers from the beginning; Sir, I care not what you are; for aught I know you may be a— come Sir, did I never see you? answer me to that did I never see you? for aught I know you may be a Jesuit; there were more in the last army beside you.  Beau. 
Of your acquaintance, and be hanged!  Sir Da. 
Yes to my knowledge, there were several at Hounslow Heath disguised in dirty Petticoats, and cried Brandy, I knew a Sergeant of foot that was familiar with one of them all night in a Ditch, and fancied him a woman, but the Devil is powerful.  Beau. 
In short, you worthy Villain of Worship, that picture is mine, and I must have it, or I shall take an opportunity to kick your Worship most inhumanly.  Sir Da. 
Kick Sir,  Beau. 
Ay, Sir, kick, 'tis a recreation I can show you.  Sir Da. 
Sir, I am a free born Subject of England, and there are Laws, look you, there are Laws; so I say you are a Rascal again, and now how will you help yourself? poor Fool!  Beau. 
Hark you Friend, have not you a Wife?  Sir Da. 
I have a Lady, Sir— oh and she's mightily taken with this Picture of yours, she was so mightily proud of it, she could not forbear showing it me, and telling too who 'twas sent it her.  Beau. 
And has she been long a Gilt? has she practised the Trade for any time?  Sir Da. 
Trade! humph, what Trade! what Trade? Friend?  Beau. 
Why the Trade of Whore and no Whore, Caterwauling in jest, putting out Christian Colours, when she's a Turk under Deck: A curse upon all honest women in the flesh, that are Whores in the Spirit.  Sir Da. 
Poor Devil, how he rails, ha, ha, ha, look you sweet Soul, as I told you before, there are laws, there are laws, but those are things not worthy your consideration: beauty's your business; but dear vagabond trouble thyself no further about my Spouse, let my Doxy rest in peace, she's meat for thy Master, old boy; I have my belly full of her every Night.  Beau. 
Sir, I wish all your noble Family hanged from the bottom of my heart.  Sir Da. 
Moreover Captain Swash I must tell you my Wife is an honest Woman, of a virtuous disposition, one that I have loved from her Infancy, and she deserves it by her faithful dealing in this affair, for that she has discovered loyally to me the treacherous designs laid against her Chastity, and my Honour.  Beau. 
By this light the Beast weeps.  Sir Da. 
Truly I cannot but weep for Joy; to think how happy I am in a sincere faithful and loving Yoke-fellow, she charged me too to tell you into the bargain, that she is sufficiently satisfied of the most secret wishes of your heart.  Beau. 
I am glad on't.  Sir Da. 
And that 'tis her desire, that you would trouble yourself no more about the matter.  Beau. 
With all my heart.  Sir Da. 
But henceforward behave yourself with such discretion as becomes a Gentleman.  Beau. 
Oh to be sure most exactly!  Sir Da. 
And let her alone to make the best use of those innocent Freedoms I allow her without putting her reputation in hazard.  Beau. 
As how I beseech you—  Sir Da. 
By your impertinent and unseasonable address.  Beau. 
And this news you bring me by a particular commission from your sweet Lady.  Sir Dau. 
Yea Friend I do, and she hopes you'll be sensible, Dear heart, of her good meaning by it: these were her very words, I neither add nor diminish, for plain dealing is my mistress's Friend.  Beau. 
Then all the Curses I shall think on this twelvemonth light on her, and as many more on the next Fool that gives credit to the Sex.  Sir Dau. 
Well, certainly I am the happiest Toad; how melancholy the Monkey stands now? Poor Pug hast thou lost her?  Beau. 
To be so sordid a Jilt, to betray me to such a Beast as that, can she have any good thoughts of such a Swine? Damn her, had she abused me handsomely it had never next me.  Sir Dau. 
Now Sir with your permission I'll take my leave.  Beau. 
Sir, If you were gone to the Devil, I should think you very well disposed of.  Sir Dau. 
If you have any Letter, or other commendation to the Lady that was so charmed with your Resemblance there, it shall be very faithfully conveyed by—  Beau. 
Fool.  Sir Dau. 
Your humble Servant Sir, I'm gone, I shall disturb you no further, your most humble Servant Sir.  [Exit. Beau. 
Now Poverty, Plague, Pox and Prison fall thick upon the head of thee Fourbin.  Fourb. 
Sir!—  Beau. 
Thou hast been an extraordinary Rogue in thy time.  Fourb. 
I hope I have lost nothing in your Honour's service Sir.  Beau. 
Find cut some way to revenge me on this old Rascal, and if I do not make thee a Gentleman.—  Fourb. 
That you have been pleased to do long ago, I thank you; for I am sure you have not left me one shilling in my pocket these two Months.  Beau. 
Here, here's for thee to Revel withal.  Fourb. 
Will your Honour please to have his Throat cut?  Beau. 
With all my heart.  Fourb. 
Or would you have him decently hanged at his own door, and then give out to the World he did it himself?  Beau. 
That would do very well.  Fourb. 
Or I think [to proceed with more safety] a good stale Jakes were a very pretty expedient.  Beau. 
Excellent, excellent Fourbin.  Fourb. 
Leave matters to my discretion, and if I do not—  Exit. Beau. 
I know thou wilt, go, go about it, prosper and be famous: now ere I dare venture to meet Courtin again. will I go by myself, rail for an hour or two, and then be good company.  Exit. Enter Courtine and Silvia. Silu. 
Take my word Sir, you had better give this business over, I tell you there's nothing in the World turns my Stomach so much as the man, that man that makes Love to me. I never saw one of your Sex in my life make love, but he looked so like an Ass all the while, that I blushed for him.  Court. 
I am afraid your Ladyship then is one of those dangerous Creatures they call She-wits, who are always so mightily taken with admiring themselves: that nothing else is worth their notice.  Sylu. 
Oh! who can be so dull not to be ravished with that roysterous mein of yours? that rustling Air in your gate, that seems to cry where ere you go, make room, here comes the Captain: that Face the which bids defiance to the Wether; bless us! if I were a poor Farmer's wife in the Country now, and you wanted Quarters, how would it fright me? But as I am young, not very ugly, and one you never saw before, how lovingly it looks upon me.  Court. 
Who can forbear to sigh, look pale and languish, where Beauty and wit unite both their forces to enslave a heart so tractable as mine is. First, for that modish swim of your Body, the victorious motion of your Arms and Head, the toss of your Fan, the glancing of the Eyes, bless us! If I were a dainty fine dressed Coxcomb with a great Estate and a little or no wit, vanity in abundance, and good for nothing, how would they melt and soften me? but as I am a scandalous honest Rascal, not Fool enough to be your sport, nor rich enough to be your prey, how glotingly they look upon me!—  Silu. 
Alas, alas! What pity 'tis your honesty should ever do you hurt, or your wit spoil your preferment.  Court. 
Just as much fair Lady, as that your Beauty should make you be envied at, or your Virtue provoke scandal.  Silu. 
Well the more I look, the more I'm in love with you.  Court. 
The more I look, the more I am out of Love with you.  Silu. 
How my heart swells when I see you!  Court. 
How my Stomach rises when I'm near you!  Silu. 
Nay, then let's bargain.  Court. 
With all my heart, what?  Silu. 
Not to fall in love with each other, I assure you Monsiour Captain.  Court. 
But to hate one another constantly and cordially.  Silu. 
Always when you are drunk, I desire you to talk scandalously of me.  Court. 
Ay, and when I am sober too, in return whereof when e'er you see a coquet of your acquaintance, and I chance to be named, be sure you spit at the filthy remembrance, and rail at me as if you loved me.  Silu. 
In the next place, when e'er we meet in the Mall, I desire you to humph, put out your Tongue, make ugly mouths, laugh aloud, and look back at me.  Court. 
Which if I chance to do, be sure at next turning to pick up some tawdry sluttering Fop or another.  Silu. 
That I made acquaintance with all at the Musique-meeting.  Court. 
Right, Just such another Spark to saunter by your side with his Hat under his Arm.  Silu. 
Harkening to all the bitter things I can say to be revenged:  Court. 
Whilst the dull Rogue dare not so much as grin to oblige you, for fear of being beaten for it, when he is out of his waiting.  Silu. 
Counterfeit your Letters from me.  Court. 
And you to be even with me for the scandal, publish to all the World I offered to marry you.  Silu. 
Oh hideous marriage '  Court. 
Horrid, horrid marriage!  Silu. 
Name, name no more of it.  Court. 
At that sad word let's part.  Silu. 
Let's wish all men decrepit, dull and silly  Court. 
And every woman old and ugly.  Silu. 
Adieu!—  Court. 
Farewell!—  Enter a young fellow, affectedly dressed, several others with him. Silu. 
Ah me, Mr. Frisk.!  Frisk. Madamoisel, Silvia! 
sincerely as I hope to be saved, the Devil take me, Damn me Madam, who's that?  Silu. 
Ha, ha, ha, hea.  [Exit with Frisk. Court. 
True to thy failings always Woman, how naturally is the Sex fond of a Rogue! What a Monster was that for a Woman to delight in, now must I love her still, though I know I am a Blockhead for't, and she'll use me like a blockhead too, if I don't prevent her: what's to be done? I'll have three Whores a day, to keep Love out of my head. Enter Beaugard. Beaugard will met again, how go matters? Handsomely!  Beau. 
Oh very handsomely! had you but seen how hadsomly I was used just now, you would swear so, I have heard thee rail in my time, would thou wouldst exercise thy talon a little at present.  Court. 
At what?  Beau. 
Why canst thou over want a subject! rail at thyself, rail at me, I deserve to be railed at, see there, what thinkest thou of that Engine, that moving lump of filthiness miscalled a Man.  [A Clumsy fellow marches over the Stage dressed like an Officer. Court. 
Curse on him for a Rogue, I know him.  Beau. 
So▪  Court. 
The Rascal was a Retailer of Ale but yesterday, and now he is an Officer and be hanged; 'tis a dainty sight in a morning to see him with his Toes turned in, drawing his Legs after him, at the head of a hundred lusty Fellows, some honest Gentleman or other stays ●ow, because that Dog had money to bribe some corrupt Colonel withal.  Enter another gravely dressed. Beau. 
There, there's another of my acquaintance, he was my Father's Footman not long since, and has pimped for me oftener than he prayed for himself; that good quality recommended him to a noble man's service, which together with flattering, fawning, lying, spying and informing, has raised him to an employment of trust and reputation, though the Rogue can't write his Name, nor read his neck Verse, if he had occasion.  Court. 
'Tis as unreasonable to expect a man of Sense should be preferred, as 'tis to think a Hector can be stout, a Priest religious, a fair Woman chaste, or a pardoned Rebel loyal.  Enter two more seeming earnestly in discourse. Beau. 
That's seasonably thought on, look there, observe but that Fellow on the right hand, the Rogue with the busiest Face of the two, I'll tell thee his History.  Court. 
I hope hanging will be the end of his History, so well I like him at the first sight.  Beau. 
He was born a Vagabond, and no Parish owned him, his Father was as obscure as his Mother public, every body knew her, and no body could guests at him.  Court. 
He comes of a very good Family, heaven be praised.  Beau. 
The first thing he chose to rise by, was Rebellion, so a Rebel he grew, and flourished a Rebel, fought against his King, and helped to bring him to the Block:  Court. 
And was he not Religious too?  Beau. 
Most devoutly! He could pray till he cried, and preach till he foamed, which excellent Talent made him popular, and at last preferred him to be a worthy Member of that never to be forgotten Rump Parliament.  Court. 
Tray Sir be uncovered at that, and remember it with Reverence.  Beau. 
In short, he was Committee man, Sequestrator and persecutor General of a whole County, by which he got enough at the Kings Return to secure himself in the general Pardon.  Court. 
Naufeous Vermin: That such a Swine with the mark of Rebellion in his Forehead, should wallow in his Luxury whilst honest men are forgotten!  Beau. 
Thus forgiven, thus raised, and made thus happy, the ungrateful Slave disowns the hand that healed him, cherishes Factions to affront his Master, and once more would Rebel against the Head, which so lately saved his from a Pole.  Court. 
What a dreadful Beard and swinging Sword he wears▪  Beau. 
'Tis to keep his Cowardice in countenance, the Rascal will endure kicking most temperately for all that, I know five or six more of the same stamp; that never came abroad without terrible long Spits by their sides, with which they will let you bore their own Noses if you please, but let the Villain be forgotten.  Court. 
His Co-Rogue I have some knowledge of, he's a tattered wormeaten Case-putter, some call him Lawyer, one that takes it very ill he is not made a Judg.  Beau. 
Yes, and is always repining that men of parts are not regarded.  Court. 
He has been a great noise-maker in factious Clubs these seven years, and now I suppose is courting that Worshipful Rascal to make him Recorder of some factious Town.  Beau. 
To teach Tallow-chandlers and Cheesemongers how far they may rebel against their King by virtue of Magna Chart●  Court. 
But friend Beaugard methinks thou art very spleenatick of a sudden, how goes the affair of Love forward, prosperously hah!  Beau. 
Oh I assure you most Triumphantly, Just now you must know I am parted with the sweet civil enchanted Ladies Husband.  Court. 
Well and what says the Cuckold is he very kind and good natured as Cuckolds use to be?  Beau. 
Why he says, Courtine in short, that I am a very silly fellow, (and truly I am very apt to believe him) and that I have been Jilted in this affair most unconscionably, a Plague on all P●mps, say, a man's business never thrives so well, as when he is his own Solicitor.  Enter Sir jolly and Boy. Sir jolly. 
Hist▪ hist. Capt. Capt. Capt. Boy.  Boy. 
Sir.  Sir jolly. 
Run and get two Chairs presently, besure you get two Chairs, Sirrah, do you here? here's luck, here's luck, now or never Capt. never if not now Captain! here's luck.  Beau. 
Sir jolly, no more adventures sweet Sir jolly, I am like to have a very sine time o●'t truly.  Sir jolly▪ 
The best in the World dear Dog, the very best in the World, 's bud she's here hard by man, stays on purpose for thee finely disguised, the Cuckold has lost her too; and no body knows any thing of the matter but I, no body but I, and I you must know, I am I, hah! and I you little Toad, hah!  Beau. 
You are a very fine Gentleman.  Sir jolly. 
The best natured Fellow in the World I believe of my years! now does my heart so thump for fear this business should miscarry; why I'll warrant thee, the Lady is here man, she's all thy own, 'tis thy own fault if thou art not in terra incognita within this half hour: come along prithee come along, fie for shame, what make a Lady lose her longing, come along I say, you— out upon't.  Beau. 
Sir your humble, I shan't stir.  Sir jolly. 
What? not go!  Beau. 
No Sir, no Lady for me.  Sir jolly. 
Not go! I should laugh at that Faith.  Beau. 
No, I will assure you, not go Sir.  Sir jolly. 
Away you Wag, you jest, you jest you wag; not go quotha?  Beau. 
No Sir, not go I tell you, what the Devil would you have more.  Sir jolly. 
Nothing, nothing Sir, but I am a Gentleman.  Beau. 
With all my heart.  Sir jolly. 
And do you think then that I'll be used thus.  Beau. 
Sir!  Sir jolly. 
Take away my Reputation and take away my Life; I shall be disgraced for ever.  Beau. 
I have not wronged you Sir jolly.  Sir jolly. 
Not wronged me! But you shall find you have wronged me, and wronged a sweet Lady, and a fine Lady:— I shall never be trusted again! never have employment more! I shall die of the Spleen— prithee now be good natured, prithee be persuaded, odd I'll give thee this Ring, I'll give thee this Watch, 'tis Gold, I'll give thee any thing in the World, go.  Beau. 
Not one Foot Sir.  Sir jolly. 
Now that I durst but murder him— well, shall I fetch her to thee? What shall I do for thee?  Enter Lady Dunce. 
'Ods fish here she comes herself, now you ill natured Chunl, now you Devil, look upon her, do but look upon her, what shall I say to her?  Beau. 
E'en what you please Sir jolly.  Sir jolly. 
'tis a very strange Monster this— Madam this is the Gentleman, that's he, though (as one may say) he's something bashful, but I'll tell him who you are [goes to Beaugard. If thou art not more cruel than Leopards, Lyone, Tigers, Wolves, or Tarters don't break my Heart, don't kill me, this unkindness of thine goes to the Soul of me. [goes to the Lady.  
Madam, he says, he's so amazed at your Triumphant Beauty, that he dares not approach the excellence that shines from you.  Lady D. 
What can be the meaning of all this?  Sir jolly. 
Art thou then resolved to be remorseless? canst thou be insensible, hast thou Eyes? hast thou a Heart? hast thou any thing thou shouldst have? cdd I'll tickle thee, get you to her you Fool, get you to her, to her; to her, to her, ha, ha, ha.  Lady D. 
Have you forgot me Beaugard?  Sir jolly. 
So now to her again I say, to her, to her and be hanged, Ah Rogue! Ah Rogue! now, now, have at her, now have at her, there it goes, their it goes, hay— Boys!—  Lady D. 
Methinks this Face should not so much be altered, as to be nothing like what once I thought it, the object of your Pleasure and subject of your Praises.  Sir jolly. 
Cunning Toad! Wheadling Jade! you shall see now how by degrees she'll draw him into the Whirl pool of Love, now he leers upon her, now he deres upon her, Oh law! there's Eyes! there's your Eyes! I must pinch him by the Calf of the Leg.  Beau. 
Madam, I must confess I do remember, that I had once acquaintance with a Face, whose Air and Beauty much resembled yours, and if I may trust my Heart, you are called Clarianda.  Lady D. 
Clarinda. I was called till my ill Fortune Wedded me, now you may have heard of me by another Title, your friend there I suppose, has made nothing a secret to you.  Beau. 
And are you then that kind enchanted fair one who was so passionately in Love with my Picture, that you could not forbear betraying me to the Beast your Husband, and wrong the Passion of a Gentleman that languished for you, only to make your Monster merry, hark you Madam, had your fool been worth it, I had beaten him, and have a Month's mind to be exercising my parts that way upon your go between, your Male-Bawd there.  Sir jolly. 
Ah Lord! Ah Lord! All's spoiled again, all's ruined. I shall be undone for ever, why what a Devil is the matter now? what have I done? what sins have I committed.  Lady D. 
And are you that passionate Adorer of our Sex? who cannot Live a Week in London without Loving, are you the Spark that send you Picture up and down to longing Ladies, longing for a pattern of your Person.  Beau. 
Yes Madam when I receive so good Hostages as these are [shows the Gold. that it shall be well used, could you find out no body but me to play the Fool withal.  Sir jolly. 
A lack a day!  Lady D. 
Could you pitch upon no Body but that wretched Woman, that has loved you too well to abuse you thus?  Sir jolly. 
Thatever I was Born!  Beau. 
Here, here Madam, I'll return you your dirt, I scorn your Wages, as I do your Service.  Lady D. 
Fie for shame what refund? That is not like a Soldier to refund, keep, keep it to pay your Sempstress withal.  Sir jolly. 
His Sempstress, who the Devil is his Sempstress? Odd what would I give to know that now!  Lady D. 
There was a Ring too, which I sent you this Afternoon, if that fit not your Finger, you may dispose of it some other way, where it may give no occasion of Scandal, and you'll do well.  Beau. 
A Ring Madam!  Lady D. 
A small trifle, I suppose Sir David delivered it to you when he returned you your Mignature.  Beau. 
I beseech you Madam!  Lady D. 
Farewell you Traitor.  Beau. 
As I hope to be saved, and upon the word of a Gentleman.  Lady D. 
Go you are a false ungrateful Brute, and trouble me no more.  [Exit. Beau. 
Sir jolly, Sir jolly, Sir jolly.  Sir jolly. 
Ah thou Rebel!  Beau. 
Some advice, some advice, dear Friend ere I'm ruined.  Sir jolly. 
Even two pennyworth of Hemp for your Honour's supper that's all the remedy that I know.  Beau. 
But prithee hear a little reason.  Sir jolly. 
No Sir I ha' done, no more to be said, I ha' done, I am ashamed of you, I'll have no more to say to you, I'll never see your Face again, good b'w'y.  [Exit. Sir jolly. Beau. 
Death and the Devil, what have my Stars been doing to day! a Ring!— delivered by Sir David!— what can that mean?— Pox on her for a Jilt, she lies, and has a mind to amuse and laugh at me a day or two longer, hist▪ here comes her Beast once more; I'I use him Civilly, and try what Discovery I can make.  [Enter Sir Davy Dunce.] Sir Da. 
Ha, ha, ha! here's the Captain's Jewel, very well: In troth I had like to have forgotten it, Ha, ha, ha,— how damnable Mad he'll be now, when I shall deliver him his Ring again, ha ha!— Poor Dog he'll hang himself at least, ha, ha, ha,— Faith, 'tis a very pretty Stone, and finely set: Humph! if I should keep it now!— I'll say I have lost it, no I'll give it him again, o' purpose to vex him, ha, ha, ha.  Beau. 
Sir David, I am heartily sorry.  Sir Da. 
Oh Sir, 'tis you I was seeking for, ha, ha, ha, what shall I say to him now to terrify him?  Beau. 
Me, Sir!—  Sir Da. 
Ay, you Sir, if your name be Captain Beaugard: how like a Fool he looks already?—  Beaug. 
What you please, Sir.  Sir Da. 
Sir, I should speak a word with you, if you think fit, what shall I do now to keep my countenance.  Beau. 
Can I be so happy, Sir, as to be able to serve you in any thing.  Sir Da. 
No Sir, ha, ha, ha, I have commands of service to you Sir, oh Lord! ha, ha, ha.  Beau. 
Me, Sir.  Sir Da. 
Ay Sir, you Sir, but put on your hat, Friend, put on your hat, be covered.  Beau. 
Sir, will you please to sit down on this bank?  Sir Da. 
No, no, there's no need, no need, for all I have a young Wife I can stand upon my legs, Sweetheart.  Beau. 
Sir, I beseech you!  Sir Da. 
By no means, I think friend, we had some hard words just now, 'twas about a paltry baggage, but she's a pretty baggage and a witty baggage, and a baggage that—  Beau. 
Sir, I am heartily ashamed of all misdemeanour on my side.  Sir Da. 
You do well, though are not you a damned Whoremaster, a devilish Cuckold-making fellow? here, here, do you see this? here's the Ring you sent a Roguing; Sir, do you think my Wife wants any thing that you can help her too?— Why I'll warrant this Ring cost fifty pound: What a prodigal Fellow are you to throw a way so much money; or didst thou steal it old Boy? I believe thou mayst be poor I'll lend thee money upon't, if thou thinkst fit at thirty in the hundred, because I love thee, ha, ha, ha.  Beau. 
Sir, your humble Servant, I am sorry 'twas not worth your Lady's acceptance, now what a dog am I!  Sir Da. 
I should have given it thee before, but faith I forgot it, though it was not my Wife's fault in the least, for she says as thou likest this usage, she hopes to have thy custom again Child; ha, ha, ha.  Beau. 
Then Sir, I beseech you tell her, that you have made a Convert on me, and that I am so sensible of my insolent behaviour towards her—  Sir Da. 
Very well, I shall do it.  Beau. 
That 'tis impossible I shall ever be at peace with myself till I find some way how I may make her reparation.  Sir Da. 
Very good, ha, ha, ha.  Beau. 
And that if ever she find me guilty of the like offence again.  Sir Da. 
No Sir, you had not best, proceed, ha, ha, ha.  Beau. 
Let her banish all good opinion of me for ever.  Sir Da. 
No more to be said, your Servant, good b'w'y.  Beau. 
One word more, I beseech you, Sir Davy.  Sir Da. 
What's that?  Beau. 
I beg you tell her that the generous reproof she has given me has so wrought upon me—  Sir Da. 
Well, I will:  Beau. 
That I esteem this Jewel, not only as a wreck redeemed from my folly, but that for her sake I will preserve it to the utmost moment of my life.  Sir Da. 
With all my heart, I vow and swear.  Beau. 
And that I long to convince her I am not the Brute she might mistake me for.  Sir Da. 
Right; well, this will make the purest sport, (Aside;) let me see, first you acknowledge yourself to be a very impudent Fellow.  Beau. 
I do so, Sir.  Sir Da. 
And that you shall never be at rest, till you have satisfied my Lady.  Beau. 
Right, Sir.  Sir Da. 
Satisfied her, very good, ha, ha, ha, and that you will never play the fool any more, be sure you keep your word, Friend.  Beau. 
Never, Sir.  Sir Da. 
And that you will keep that Ring for her sake, as long as you live, hah!—  Beau. 
To the day of my death, I'll assure you.  Sir Da. 
I protest that will be very kindly done— and that you long mightily, long, to let her understand that you are another guess Fellow than she may take you for.  Beau. 
Exactly Sir, that is the sum and end of my desires.  Sir Da. 
Well, I'll take care of your business, I'll do your business, I'll warrant you, this will make the purest sport when I come home, no, (Aside) Well your Servant, remember, be sure you remember, your Servant.  Beau. 
So, now I find a Husband is a delicate instrument rightly made use of;— To make her old jealous Coxcomb pimp for me himself, I think 'tis as worthy an employment as such a noble Consort can be put to.  
Ah were ye all such Husbands and such Wives,  
We younger Brothers should lead better lives.   

Act. III.  
SCENE Covent-Garden.  Enter Sylvia, and Courtine. Sylu. 
TO fall in love, and to fall in love with a Soldier! nay, a disbandded Soldier too, a fellow with the mark of Cain upon him, which every body knows him by, and is ready to throw stones at him for.  Cour. 
Damn her, I shall never enjoy her without ravishing; if she, were but very rich and very ugly, I would marry her: Ay, 'tis she, I know her mischievous look too well to be mistaken in it,— Madam!—  Sylu. 
Sir.  Cour. 
'Tis a very hard Case, that you have resolved not to let me be quiet.  Silu. 
'Tis very unreasonably done of you, Sir, to haunt me up and down every where at this scandalous rate, the world will think we are acquainted shortly.  Cour. 
But, Madam, I shall fairly take more care of my Reputation, on, and from this time forward shun and avoid you most watchfully.  Sylu. 
Have you not haunted this place these two hours.  Cour. 
'Twas because I knew it to be your Ladyship's home then, and therefore might reasonably be the place you least of all frequented, one would imagine you were gone a Coxcomb-hunting by this time, to some place of public appearance or other, 'tis pretty near the hour, 'twill be twilight presently, and then the Owls come all abroad.  Sylu. 
What need I take the trouble to go so far a fowling when there's game enough at our own doors.  Cour. 
What game for your Net, fair Lady.  Sylu. 
Yes, or any woman's Net else, that will spread it.  Cour. 
To show you how despicablie I think of the business, I will here leave you presently, though I lose the pleasure of railing at you.  Sylu. 
Do so I would advise you; your raillery betrays your wit, as bad as your clumsey civility does your breeding.  Cour. 
Adieu!—  Sylu. 
Farewell!—  Court. 
Why do not you go about your business?  Sylu. 
Because I would be sure to be rid of you first, that you might not dog me.  Cour. 
Were it but possible that you could answer me one question truly, and then I should be satisfied.  Sylu. 
Any thing for composition to be rid of you handsomely.  Cour. 
Are you really very honest? Look in my Face and tell me that.  Sylu. 
Look in your Face and tell you, for what? To spoil my Stomach to my Supper.  Cour. 
No, but to get thee a Stomach to thy Bed, Sweetheart, I would if possible be better acquainted with thee because thou art very ill-natured.  Sylu. 
Your only way to bring that business about effectually, is to be more troublesome, and if you think it worth your while to be abused substantially; you may make your personal appearance this Night.  Cour. 
How? where? and when? and what hour I beseech thee?  Sylu. 
Under the Window, between the hours of eleven and twelve exactly.  Cour. 
Where shall these lovely Eyes, and Ears hear my Plaints and see my Tears.  Sylu. 
At that kind hour thy griefs shall end if thou canst know thy Foe from thy Friend.  [Exit. Syl. Cour. 
Here's another trick of the Devil now, under that Window between the hours of eleven and twelve exactly, I am a damned Fool, and must go, let me see, suppose I meet with a lusty beating! pish, that's nothing for a man that's in love, or suppose she contrive some way to make a public Coxcomb of me, and expose me to the scorn of the World, for an example to all amorous Blockheads hereafter? why, if she do, I'll swear I have lain with her, beat her Relations, if they pretend to Vindicate her, and so there's one love intrigue pretty well over.  Exit Cour. Enter Sir David, and Vermin. Sir Da. 
Go get you in to your Lady now, and tell her, I am coming.  Verm. 
Her Ladyship, Right-worshipful is pleased not to be at home.  Sir Da. 
How's that? my Lady not at home! run, run in and ask when she went forth, whether she is gone, and who is with her, run and ask, Vermin.  Ver. 
She went out in her Chair presently after you this Afternoon.  Sir Da. 
Then I may be a Cuckold still for aught I know, what will be comeof me? I have surely lost, and ne'er shall find her more, she promised me strictly to stay at home, till I came back again; for aught I know she may be up three pair of stairs in the Temple now.  Verm. 
Is her Ladyship in Law then, Sir.  Sir Da. 
Or it may be taking the Air as far as Knightsbridge with some smooth faced Rogue or another: 'tis a damned house, that Swan, that Swan at Knightsbridge is a confounded house, Vermin.  Verm. 
Do you think she is there then?—  Sir Da. 
No, I do not think she is there neither; but such a thing may be, you know; would that Barn-Elms was under water too, there's a 1000 Cuckolds a Year made at Barn-Elms, by Rosamonds ponds, the devil if she should be there this evening, my heart's broke.  Enter Sir Jolly. Sir jol. 
That must be Sir Davy; Ay, that's he, that's he, ha, ha, ha, was ever the like heard of? was ever any thing so pleasant?  Sir Da. 
I'll lock her up three days, and three nights, without meat, drink or light, I'll humble her in the Devil's name.  Sir jol. 
Well, could I but meet my Friend, Sir Davy, it would be the joyfullest news for him—  Sir Da. 
Who's there that has any thing to say to me.  Sir jol. 
Ah my Friends, of Friends, such news, such tidings.  Sir Da. 
I have lost my Wife Man.  Sir jol. 
Lost her! She's not dead I hope.  Sir Da. 
Yes, Alas, she's dead, irrecoverably lost.  Sir jol. 
Why I parted with her within this half hour.  Sir Da. 
Did you so, are you sure it was she? where was it? I'll have my Lord-Chief-Justices Warrant and a Constable presently.  Sir jol. 
And she made the purest sport now, with a Young Fellow, Man, that she met withal accidentally.  Sir Da. 
Oh Lord! that's worse and worse, a Young fellow!— my Wife making sport with a young fellow! oh Lord! here are doings! here are vagaries! I'll run mad, I'll climb Bow Steeple presently, bestride the Dragon, and preach Cuckoldom to the whole City.  Sir joll. 
The best of all was too, that it happened to be an Idle Coxcomb that pretended to be in lover with her Neighbour.  Sir Da. 
Indeed! in love with her! who was it? what's his Name▪ I warrant you won't tell a Body,— I'll indite him in the Crown Office; no I'll issue Warrants to apprehend him for Treason upon the Statue of Edw. 19th. won't you tell me what young Fellow it was, was it a very handsome young Fellow, hah—  Sir jol. 
Handsome? yes hang him the fellow's handsome enough; he is not very handsome neither, but he has a devilish leering black-eye.  Sir Da. 
Oh Lord?  Sir jol. 
His face to is a good riding Face, 'tis no foft effeminate complexion indeed, but his countenance is ruddy, sanguine and cheerful, a devilish fellow in a Corner, I'll warrant him.  Sir Da. 
Bless us! what will become of me, why the devil did I marry a young Wife? Is he very well shaped too, tall, straight, and proportionable, hah!—  Sir jol. 
Tall? No, he's not very tall neither, yet he is tall enough too, he's none of your overgrown lubberly Flanders Jades, but more of the true English breed, well knit, able, and fit for service old Boy; the Fellow is well shaped truly, very well proportioned, strong, and active; I have seen the Rogue leap like a Buck.  Sir Da. 
Who can this be? Well, and what think you, Friend, has he been there? Come, come, I'm sensible she's a young Woman, and I am an old Fellow, troth a very old Fellow, I signify little or nothing now, but do you think he has prevailed? am I Cuckold, Neighbour.  Sir jol. 
Cuckold! what! a Cuckold in Covent-garden? No I'll assure you, I believe her to be the most virtuous Woman in the World; but if you had but seen!—  Sir Da. 
Ay, would I had, what was it?  Sir jol. 
How like a Rogue she used him: First of all comes me up the Spark to her, Madam, says he— and then he bows down, thus— how now, says she, what would the impertient Fellow have.  Sir Da. 
Humph! ha! well, and what then?  Sir jol. 
Madam, says he again (bowing as he did before) my heart is so entirely yours, that except you take pity of my sufferings I must here die at your Feet.  Sir Da. 
So, and what said she again, Neighbour? ha!  Sir jol. 
Go, you are a Fop.  Sir Da. 
Ha, ha, ha, did she indeed? Did she say so indeed? I am glad on 't, troth I am very glad on't; well, and what next? And how, and well, and what? ha!—  Sir Ibl. 
Madam, says he, this won't do; I am your humble Servant, for all this, you may pretend to be as ill-natured as you please, but I shall make bold.  Sir Da. 
Was there ever such an impudent Fellow?  Sir jol. 
With that, Sirrah, says she, you are a saucy Jackanapes and I'll have you kicked.  Sir Da. 
Ha, ha, ha! Well I would not be unmarried agam to be an Angel.  Sir jol. 
But the best Jest of all was, who this should be at last.  Sir Da. 
Ay, who indeed! I'll warrant you some silly Fellow or other; poor Fool!  Sir jol. 
E'en a scandalous Rake hell, that lingers up and down the Town by the Name of Captain Beaugard▪ but he has been a bloody Cuckold-making Scoundrel in his time.  Sir Da. 
Hang him Sot, is it he? I don't value him thus, not a wet finger Man, to my knowledge she hates him, she scorns him Neighbour, I know it, I am very well satisfied in the point, besides I have seen him since that, and out-hectored him: I am to tell her from his own mouth, that he promises never to affront her more.  Sir jol. 
Indeed.  (A Letter.) Sir Da. 
Ay, Ay—  Enter Lady Dunce, paying her Chairman. Chairman. 
God bless you, Madam, thank your Honour.  Sir jol. 
Hush, hush, there's my Lady, I'll be gone, I'll not be seen, your humble Servant, God b'w'y.  Sir Da. 
No faith, Sir jolly, e'en go into my house now, and stay Supper with me, we han't supped together a great while.  Sir jol. 
Ha! say you so, I don't care if I do, faith withal my heart; this may give me an opportunity to set all things right again.  [Aside. Sir Da. 
My Dear!  Lady D. 
Sir!  Sir Da. 
You have been abroad, my Dear, Isee!  Lady D. 
Only for a little Air, truly I was almost stifled within doors, I hope you will not be angry, Sir David, will you?  Sir Da. 
Angry Child! no Child, not I; what should I be angry for!  Lady D. 
I wonder Sir David, you will serve me at this rate. Did you not promise me to go in my behalf to Beaugard and correct him according to my instructions for his insolence.  Sir Da. 
So I did, Child; I have been with him, Sweetheart, I have told him all to a tittle, I gave him back again the Picture too, but as the Devil would have it, I forgot the Ring, faith I did.  Lady D. 
Did you purpose, Sir Sodom, to render me ridiculous to the man I abominate, what scandalous interpretation think you must he make of my retaining any trifle of his sent me on so dishonourable terms.  Sir Da. 
Really, my Lamb, thou art in the right, yet I went back afterwards, Dear-heart, and did the business to some purpose.  Lady D. 
I am glad that you did with all my heart.  Sir Da. 
I gave him his lesson, I'll warrant him.  Lady D. 
Lesson! what lesson had you to give him?  Sir Da. 
Why I told him as he liked that usage he might come again ha, ha, ha.  Lady D. 
Ay, and so let him.  Sir Da. 
With all my heart, I'll give him free leave or hang me: though thou wouldst not imagine how the poor Devil's altered. La you there now, but as certainly as I stand here, that man is troubled that he swears he shall not rest day nor night till he has satisfied thee; prithee be satisfied with him if 'tis possible, my Dear, prithee do, I promised him before I left him to tell thee as much, for the poor wretch looks so simply, I could not choose but pity him I vow and swear, ha, ha, ha,.  jol. 
Now, now, you little Witch, now you Chitsface, odd I could find in my heart to put my little Finger in your Bubbies.  Lady D. 
Sir Da. I must tell you, that I cannot but resent your so soon reconcilement with a man that I hate worse than death, and that if you loved me with half that tenderness which you profess, you would not forget an affront so palpably, and so basely offered me.  Sir Da. 
Why Chicken where's the remedy? what's to be done? how wouldst thou have me deal with him?  Lady D. 
Cut his throat.  Sir Da. 
Bless us for ever? cut his throat? what do murder?  Lady D. 
Murder, yes, any thing to such an incorrigible Enemy of your honour, one that has resolved to persist in abusing of you, see here this letter this I received since I last parted with you just now it was thrown into my Chair by an impudent Lackey of his, kept o' purpose for such employments.  Sir Da. 
Let me see: A Letter indeed!— for the Lady Dunce— damned Rogue, treacherous dog, what can he say in the inside now, here's a Villian.  Lady D. 
Yes, you had best break it open, you had so, 'tis like the rest of your discretion.  Sir Da. 
Lady, if I have an enemy it is best for me to know what mischief he intends me, therefore, with your leave I will break it open.  Lady D. 
Do, do, to have him believe that I was pleased enough with it to do it myself, if you have the Spirit of a Gentleman in you, carry it back, and dash it as it is in the face of that audacious Fellow.  Sir jol. 
What can be the meaning of this now?  Sir Da. 
A Gentleman, yes, Madam, I am a Gentleman, and the world shall find that I am a Gentleman— I have certainly the best Woman in the World.  Lady D. 
What do you think must be the end of all this? I have no refuge in the world, but your kindness, had I a Jealous Husband now, how miserable must my life be!  Sir jol. 
Ah Rogues. Nose ah Devil! ah Toad! cunning Thief, wheed ling Slut, I'll bite liar by and by.  Sir Dau. 
Poor Fool! no Dear, I am not Jealous, nor never will 〈…〉 of thee: Do what thou wilt thou shalt not make me jealous 〈◊〉 love thee too well to suspect thee.  Lady D. 
Ah but how long will you do so?  Sir Da. 
How long! as long as I live I warrant thee, I— don't talk to a body so: I cannot hold out if thou dost, my eyes will run over, poor 〈◊〉, poor Birdsnies! poor Lambki●●.  Lady D. 
But will you be so kind to me to answer my desires, will you once more endeavour to make that Traitor sensible that I have too just an esteem of you, not to value his addresses as they deserve.  Sir Da. 
Ay, Ay, ay will.  Lady D. 
But done't stay away too long Dear, make what haste you can I shall be in pain till I see you again.  Sir Da. 
My hair, my Love, my Baby, I'll be with thee in a moment, how happy am I above the rest of men: Neighbour, dear Neighbour, walk in with my Wife, and keep her company, till I return again, Child don't be troubled, prithee don't be troubled, was there ever such a Wife, well damn, da, da, don't be troubled, prithee, don't be troubled, prithee don't be troubled, dam, da,  [Exit. Lady D. 
Sir jolly, Sir jolly, Sir jolly.  Sir jol. 
Don't be troubled, prithee don't be trouled, damn, da.  Lady Du. 
But Sir jolly, can you guests whereabout my wandering Officer may be probably found now?  Sir jol. 
Found Lady? he is to be found, Madam, he is to be at my house presently Lady, he's certainly one of the 〈◊〉 Fellows in the World.  Lady D. 
You speak like a Friend, Sir jolly.  Sir jol. 
His Friend, Lady; no Madam his Foe, his utter Enemy, I shall be his ruin, I shall undo him.  Lady D. 
You may, if you please, then come both and play at Dards this evening with me for an hour or two, for I have contrived it so that Sir David is to be abroad at Supper to night, he cannot possibly avoid it; I long to win some of the Captain's Money strangely.  Sir jol. 
Do you so, my Gamester? Well, I'll besure to bring him, and for what he carries about him I'll warrant you— odd he's a pretty Fellow, a very pretty Fellow, he has only one fault.  Lady D. 
And what is that I beseech you Sir?  Sir jol. 
Only too Loving, too good Natured, that's all; 'tis certainly the best natured Fool breathing, that's all his fault.  Lady D. 
Hist, hist, I think I see company coming, if you please, Sir jolly we'll go in.  Enter Beaugard followed by Sir Davy, Vermin. Sir jol. 
Mum, mum, mum, 'tis he himself the very same; odds so Sir Davy after him too, hush, hush, hush, let us be gone, let us retire, do but look upon him now, mind him a little, there's a 〈◊〉▪ there's an Air, there's a motion! Ah Rogue, ah Devil, get you in, get you in, I say there's a shape for you.  [Exit. Beau. 
What the Devil shall I do to recover this days loss again, my honourable Pimp too, my Pander Knight has forsaken me, methinks I am quandaried like one going with a party to discover the Enemy's Camp; but had lost his guide upon the mountains: Curse on him, old Angus is here again, there can be no good Fortune towards me when he's at my heels  Sir Da. 
Sir, Sir, Sir, one word with you Sir! Captain, Captain, noble Captain, oneword, I beseech you.  Beau. 
With me Friend?  Sir Da. 
Yes with you, my no Friend.  Beau. 
Sir David my intimate my Bosom Physician—  Sir Da. 
Ah Rogue! damned Rogue!  Beau. 
My Confessor, my dearest Friend, I ever had—  Sir Da. 
Dainty Wheadle, here's a Fellow for ye.  Beau. 
One that has taught me to be in love with Virtue and shown me the ugly inside of my Follies.  Sir Da. 
Sir, your humble Servant.  Beau. 
Is that all? if you are as cold in your Love as you are in your Friendship, Sir Davy, your Lady has the worst time o''nt of any one in Christendom.  Sir Da. 
So she has, Sir, when she cannot be free from the insolent solicitations of such Fellows as you are, Sir.  Beau. 
As me, Sir? why who am I, good Sir Domine Doddle-pate?  Sir Da. 
So take notice he threatens me, I'll have him bound to the peace instantly, will you never have remorse of Conscience Friend? have you banished all shame from your Soul? Do you consider my name is Sir Davy Dunce? that I have the most virtuous Wife living: Do you consider that? Now, how like a Rogue he looks again; what a hang-dog leer was that?  Beau. 
Your virtuous Wife, Sir, you are always harping upon that string Sir Davy.  Sir Da. 
No 'tis you would be harping upon that string, Sir, see you this? cast your eyes upon this, this Letter Sir, did not you promise this very day, to abandon all manner of proceedings of this Nature tending to the dishonour of me and my Family?  Beau. 
Letter, Sir? what the devil does he mean now? Let me see, For the Lady Dunce, this is no scrawl of mine, I'll be Sworn by jove her own hand! What a Dog was I! forty to one but I had played the Fool, and spoiled all again; was there ever so Charming a Creature breathing— did your Lady deliver this to your hands Sir.  Sir Da. 
Even her own self in person, Sir, and bade me tell you Sir, that she has too just an esteem of me Sir, not to value such a Fellow as you are as you deserve.  Beau. 
Very good: (Reads the Letter) I doubt not but this Letter will surprise you— (in troth, and so it does extremely) but reflect upon the manner of conveying it to your hand as kindly as you can.  Sir Da. 
Ay a damned Thief to have it thrown into the Chair by a Footman.  Beau. 
(Reads) Would Sir Davy were but half so kind to you as I am.  Sir Da. 
Say you so you insinuating Knave.  (Sir Jolly Reads. Beau. 
But he I am satisfied is so severely Jealous, that except you contrive some way to let me see you this evening: I fear all will be hopeless  Sir Da. 
Impudent Traitor I might have been a Monster yet before I had got my Supper in my Belly.  Beau. 
In order to which either appear yourself, or some body for you, half an hour hence in the Piazza, where more may be considered of, adieu.  Sir Da. 
Thanks to you noble Sir, with all my heart, you are come I see accordingly, but as a Friend I am bound in Conscience to tell the business won't do, the trick won't pass Friend, you may put up your Pipes, and march off! Oh Lord! he lie with my Wife, Pug●●● he make Sir Davy Dunce a Cuckold, poor wretch, ha, ha, ha.  Sir jol. 
Hist, hist, hist.  Enter Lady Dunce, and Fourbin disguised. Lady D. 
That's he, there he is! succeed and be rewarded.  Four. 
Other people may think what they please; but in my own opinion, I am a very pretty Fellow now, if my design but succeed upon this old Baboon, I'll be canonised Sir, Sir, Sir.  Sir Da. 
Friend! with me? Would you speak with me, Friend.  Fourb. 
Sir, my commands were to attend your Worship.  Sir jol. 
Beaugard, Beaugard, hist, hist, here here, quickly hist.  Sir Da. 
Where do you live, Sweetheart, and who do you belong too?  Fourb. 
Sir I am a small Instrument of the City, I serve the Lord Mayor in his Office there.  Sir Da. 
How the Lord Mayor!  Four. 
Yes, Sir, who desires you by all means to do him the Honour of your company at supper this evening.  Sir Da. 
It will be the greatest honour I ever received in my Life, what my Lord Mayor Invite me to supper? I am his Lordship's most humble servant.  Four. 
Yes, Sir, if your name be Sir Davy Dunce, as I have the honour to be informed it is, he desires you moreover to make what haste you can, for that he has some matters of importance to communicate to your honour which may take up some time.  Lady D. 
I hope it will succeed.  Sir Da. 
Communicate with me, he does me too noble a favour, 〈◊〉 upon the wings of Ambition to say myself at his Footstool; My Lord-Mayor sends himself to invite me to Supper, to confer with me too: I shall certainly be a great Man.  Fourb. 
What Answer will your Worship charge me back withal?  Sir Da. 
Let his Lordship know that I am amazed, and confounded, at his generosity, and that I am so transported with the honour he does me, that I will not fail to wait on him in the roasting of an Egg.  Fourb. 
I am your Worship's lowly Slave.  Sir Da. 
Vermin, go get the Coach ready, get me the Gold Medal too and Chain which I took from the Roman Catholic Officer for a Popish Relic; I'll be fine, I'll shine and drink Wine that's Divine, My Lord-Mayor invite me to Supper!  Lady D. 
My Dearest, I'm glad to see thee returned in safety from the bottom of my heart, hast thou seen the Traitor?  Sir Da. 
Seen him? hang him, I have seen him, Pox on him, seen him.  Lady D. 
Well, and what is become of him! Where is he?  Sir Da. 
Why dost thou ask me where he is? what a Pox care I what becomes of him, prithee don't trouble me with thy impertinence, I am busy.  Lady D. 
You are not Angry, my Dear, are you?  Sir Da. 
No, but I am pleased, and that's all one, very much pleased let me tell you, but that I am only to Sup with my Lord-Mayor, that's all, nothing else in the World, only the business of the Nation calls upon me, that's all, therefore once more I say don't be troublesome, but stand off.  Lady D. 
You always think my company troublesome, you never stay at home to comfort me, what think you I shall do alone by myself all this Evening? mopeing in my Chamber, pray my Joy stay with me for once; I hope he won't take me at my word.  [Aside. Sir Da. 
I say again and again, Tempter stand off, I will not lose my preferment for my pleasure, Honour is towards me, and flesh and blood are my Averllon.  Lady D. 
But how long will you stay then?  Sir Da. 
I don't know, may be not an hour, may be all night, as his Lordship and I think fit, what's that to any body.  Lady D. 
You are very cruel to me▪  Sir Da. 
I can't help it, go get you in and pass away the time with your Neighbour, I'll be back again before I die, in the mean time be humble and conformable, go: is the Coach ready?  Verm. 
Yes Sir.  Sir Da. 
Well, your Servant, what nothing to my Lady Mayoress! you have a great deal of Breeding indeed, a great deal, nothing to my Lady Mayoress?  Lady D. 
My service to her, if you please.  Sir D. 
Well, dam, da, the poor fool cries o' my conscience! Adieu, do you hear, farewell.  [Exit. Lady D. 
As well as what I love can make me.  Enter Sir Jolly. Sir jol. 
Madam, is he gone.  Lady D. 
In post haste I assure.  Sir jol. 
In troth and joy go with him.  Lady D. 
Do you then, Sir jolly, conduct the Captain hither, whilst I go and dispose of the Family that we may be private.  [Ex. Enter Sir Davy. Sir Da. 
Troth I had forgot my Medal and Chain, quite and clean, forgot my Relic, I was forced to come up these back stairs, for fear of meeting my Wife again, it is the troublesom'st loving Fool, I must into my Closet and write a short Letter too, 'tis Post night, I had forgot that▪ well, I would not have my Wife catch me for a Guinny.  [Exit. Enter Beaugard and Lady D. Beau. 
Are you very certain, Madam, no body is this way? I fancy as we enter'd I saw the glimpse of something more than ordinary.  Lady D. 
Is it your care of me? or your personal fears, that make you so supsitious, whereabouts was the Apparition?  Beau. 
There, there, just at the very door.  Lady D. 
Fie for shame, that's Sir Davy's Closet, and he I am satisfied is far enough off by this time, I'm sure I heard the Coach drive him away. But to convince you, you shall see now; Sir Davy, Sir Davy, Sir Davy, [knocking at the Closet door] look you there, you a Captain and afraid of a shadow, come Sir, shall we call for the Guards?  Beau. 
And what shall we play for pretty One!  Lady D. 
E'en what you think best, Sir.  Beau. 
Silver Kisses or Golden Joys! come let us make Stakes a little.  Enter Sir Jolly. Sir jolly. 
Ah Rogue, ah Rogue! are you there? have I caught you in Faith now, now, now!  Lady D. 
And who shall keep them?  Beau. 
You, till Sir Davy, returns from Supper.  Lady D. 
That may be long enough, for our Engine Fourbin has Order not to give him over suddenly I assure you.  Beau. 
And is't to yourself then I'm obliged for this blessed opportunity? Let us improve it to Love's best advantage.  Sir jolly. 
Ah, h, h, h! Ah, h, h, h!  Beau. 
Let's vow eternal, and raise our thoughts, to ' expectation of immortal pleasures, in one another's eyes let's read our joys till we've no longer power o'er our desires, drunk with this dissolving, oh!—  Enter Sir Davy from his Closet. Lady D. 
Ah!  [Squeaks. Beau. 
By this light the Cuckold, Presto. nay then Hallo.  [Gets up and runs away. Sir Da. 
Oh Lord, a Man! a Man in my Wife's Chamber; Murder, Murder, Thief's, Thiefs, shut up my Doors! Madam! Madam! Madam!  Enter Sir Jolly. Sir jol. 
Ay, Ay, Theives, Thiefs, urder, Murder, where Neighbour, where, where?  Lady D. 
Pierce, pierce this wretched Heart hard to the Hilts, die this in deepest crimson of my Blood, spare not a miserable Woman's life, whom Heaven designed to be the unhappy object of the most horrid usage Man e'er acted.  Catches up Beaugard's sword which he had left behind him in the burry, and presents it to Sir Davy. Sir Da. 
What in the name of Satan does she mean now?  Lady D. 
Curse on my fatal beauty! blasted ever be these two baneful eyes, that could inspire a barbarous Villain to attempt such crimes as all my blood's too little to atone for: Nay, you shall hear me.—  Sir Da. 
Hear you, Madam? No, I have seen too much I thank you heartily, hear you Quotha!—  Lady D. 
Yes, and before I die too I'll be justified.  Sir jol. 
Justified, oh Lord, justified!—  Lady D. 
Notice being given me of your return, I came with speed to this unhappy place, where I have oft been blessed with your Embraces, when from behind the Arras out starts Beaugard; how he came there heaven knows.  Sir Da. 
I'll have him hanged for Burglary, he has broken my House, and broke the Peace upon my Wife, very good!  Lady D. 
Straight in his Arms he grasped me fast, with much ado I, plunged and got my freedom, ran to your Closet door, knock● and implored your aid, called on your name, but all in vain—  Sir Da. 
Ha!  Lady D. 
Soon again he seized me, stopped my mouth, and with a Conqueror's fury—  Sir Da. 
Oh Lord! oh Lord! no more, no more, I beseech thee, I shall grow mad, I will grow mad, and very mad, I'll plough up Rocks and Adamantine Iron bars, I'll crack the frame of nature, sally out like Tamburlaine upon the Trojan Horse, and drive the Pigmies all like Geese before me; Oh Lord stop her mouth! well▪ and how? and what then I stopped thy mouth! well! hah!  Lady D. 
No, though unfortunate I still am innocent, his oursed purpose could not be accomplished, but who will live so injured? No I'll die to be revenged on myself, I ne'er can hope that I may see his streaming Offers to run upon the sword. gore: and thus I let out my own—  Sir Da. 
Ha! what wouldst thou do my love, prithee don't break my heart,? If thou wilt kill, kill me; I know thou art innocent, I see thou art; though I had rather be a Cuckold a thousand times than lose thee, poor Love, poor Dearee, poor Baby.  Sir jol. 
Alack a day—  [Weeps. Lady D. 
Ah me!—  Sir Da. 
Ah, prithee be comforted now, prithee do, why I'll love thee the better for this, for all this Mun, why shouldst he troubled for another's Ill doings! I know it was no fault of thine.  Sir jol. 
No, no more it was not I dare swear.  Sir Da. 
See, see, my Neighbour weeps too, he's troubled to see thee thus.  Lady D. 
Oh, but revenge!  Sir Da. 
Why thou shalt have revenge, I'll have him murdered, I'll have his throat cut before to morrow morning Child, rise now, prithee rise.  Sir jol. 
Ay do Madam, and smile upon Sir Davy.  Lady D. 
But will you love me then as well as e'er you did?  Sir Da. 
Ay, and the longest day I live too.  Lady D. 
And shall I have Justice done me on that prodigious Monster?  Sir Da. 
Why, he shall be Crow's meat by to morrow night, I tell thee he shall be Crow's meat by midnight Chicken.  Lady D. 
Then I will live, since so 'tis something pleasant. When I in Peace may lead a happy Life, With such a Husband—  Sir Da. 
I with such a Wife.   

ACT. IU.  
SCENE The Tavern.  Enter Beaugard, Courtine and Drawer. Draw. 
WElcome Gentlemen, very welcome Sir: will you please to walk up one pair of stairs.  Beau. 
Get the great Room ready presently, carry up too a good stock of Bottles before hand, with Ice to cool our Wine, and Water to refresh our Glasses.  Draw. 
It shall be done Sir; Coming, coming there, Coming: speak up in the Dolphin some body.  Beau. 
Ah Courtine, must we be always idle I must we never see our glorious days again? when shall we be rolling in the Lands of Milk and Honey▪ encamped in large luxuriant Vineyards, where the loadded Vines Cluster about our Tents, drink the rich Juice, just pressed from the plump Grape, feeding on all the fragrant golden Fruit that grow in fertile Climes, and ripened by the earliest vigour of the Sun.  Court. 
Ah Beaugard! those days have been, but now we must resolve to content ourselves at an humble rate: methinks it is not unpleasant to consider how I have seen thee in a large Pavilion; drowning the heat of the day in Campagne Wines, sparkling sweet as those charming Beauties, whose dear remembrance every glass recorded, with half a dozen honest Fellows more, Friends Beaugard, faithful hearty Friends, things as hard to meet with as preferment here: Fellows that would speak truth boldly, and were proud on't, that scorned flattery, loveed honesty; for 'twas their portion, and never yet learned the Trade of case and lying, but now.—  Beau. 
Ay, now we are at home in our natural Hives, and sleep like Drones; but there's a Gentleman on the other side the Water, that may make work for us all one day.  Gour. 
But in the mean while—  Beau. 
In the mean while patience, Courtine, that is the English man's Virtue: Go to the man that owes you money, and tell him your are necessitated, his answer shall be, a little patience I beseech you, Sir: Ask a Cowardly Rascal satisfaction for a sordid injury done you, he shall cry, alas a day, Sir, you are the strangest Man living, you won't have patience to hear one speak: Co●● 〈◊〉 to a great Man that you want preferment, that you have forsa●●●●●siderable advantages abroad, in obedience to public 〈◊〉 all you shall get of him is this, you must have patience, Sir.  Court. 
But will patience feed me, or clothe me, or keep 〈◊〉  Beau. 
Prithee no more hints of Poverty: 'tis scandalous, 's Death I would as soon choose to hear a Soldier brag as complain, dost thou want any Money?  Court. 
True indeed I want no necessaries to keep me alive; but I do not enjoy myself with that freedom I would do, there is no more pleasure in living at stint, than there is in living alone. I would have it in my power (when he needed me) to serve and assist my Friend, I would to my Ability deal handsomely too be the Woman that pleased me.  Beau. 
Oh ●fy for shame! you would be a Whoremaster, Friend, go, go, I'll have no more to do with you.  Court. 
I would not be forced neither at any time to avoid a Gentleman that had obliged me, for want of Money to pay him a debt contracted in our old acquaintance, it turns my Stomach to wheadle with the Rogue I scorn when he uses me Scurvily, because he has my Name in his Shop-Book.  Beau. 
As for example, to endure the familiarities of a Rogue, that shall cock his greasy Hat in my Face, when he dun me, and at the same time veil it to an overgrown Deputy of the Ward, though a drowzy Fellmonger.  Court. 
To be forced to concur with his Nonsense too, and laugh at his Parish Jests.  Beau. 
To use respects and ceremonies to the Milch-Cow his Wife, and praise her pretty Children, though they stink of their Mother, and are uglier than the issue of a Baboon, yet all this must be endured.  Court. 
Must it Beaugard.  Beau. 
And since 'tis so let's think of a Bottle.  Court. 
With all my Heart, for railing and drinking do much better together then by themselves; a private room, a trusty Friend or two, good Wine and bold Truths, are my happiness; but where's our dear Friend and intimate, Sir jolly, this Evening.  Beau. 
To deal like a friend Courtine, I parted with him but just now, he's gone to contrive me a meeting is possible this ●ight with the Woman my Soul is most fond of: I was this Evening just entering upon the Palace of all Joy, when I met with so damnably a disappointment— in short, that Plague to all Well meaning Women, the Husband came unseasonably and sorced a poor Lover to this Heels that was fairly making his progress another way Courtine, the Story thou shalt here more at large hereafter.  Court. 
A Plague on him, why didst thou not Murder the presumptuous Cuckold? saucy intruding Clown? to dare to disturb a Gentleman's privacies, I would have beaten him into Sense of his trangression; enjoyed his Wife before his Face, and a taught the Dog his Duty.  Beau. 
Look you Courtine, you think you are dealing with the Landlord of your Winter Quarters in Alsatia now? friend, friend, there is a difference between a freeborn English Cuckold, and a sheaking Wittol of a Conquered Province.  Court. 
Oh by all means! there aught to be a difference observed between your arbitrary Whoring and your limited Fornication.  Beau. 
And but reason: for though we may make bold with another man's Wife in a friendly way: yet nothing upon compulsion Dear-heart.  Court. 
And now Sir jolly, I hope is to be the instrument of some immortal Plot, some contrivance for the good of thy body, and the old fellows soul Beaugard, for all Cuckolds go to Heaven, that's most certain.  Beau. 
Sir jolly! Why on my Conscience he thinks it as much his undoubted Right to be Pimp Master-General to London and Middlesex, as the Estate he possesses is, by my consent his worship should, e'en have a Patent for it.  Court. 
He is certainly the fittest for the employment in Christendom; he knows more Families by their Names and Titles, than all the Bellmen within and without the walls.  Beau. 
Nay he keeps a Catalogue of the choicest Beauties about Town, illustrated with a particular account of their Age, Shape, proportion, colour of Hair and Eyes, degrees of Complexion, Gunpowder Spots and Moles.  Court. 
I wish the old Pander were bound to satisfy my experience; what marks of good nature my Sylvia has about her.  Sir jolly. 
My Captains! my Sons of Mars, and Imps of Venus! well encountered, what shall we have a sparkling Bottle or two, and use Fortune like a Jade? Beaugard you are a Rogue, you are a Dog, I hate you, get you gone, go.  Beau. 
But Sir jolly, what news from Paradise Sir jolly? Is there any hopes I shall come there too Night!  Sir jolly. 
May be there is, may be there is not; I say let us have a Bottle, and I will say nothing else without a Bottle, after a Glass or two my Heart may open.  Court. 
Why then we will have a Bottle Sir jolly.  Sir jolly. 
Will? we'll have dozens▪ and drink till we're wise, and speak well of no body, till we are lewder than midnight-whores, and out-rail disbanded Officers.  Beau. 
Only one thing more my noble Knight, and then we are entirely at thy disposal.  Sir jolly. 
Well and what's that? what's the business?  Beau. 
This Friend of mine here stands in need of thy Assistance, he's damnably in Love Sir jolly.  Sir jolly. 
In love is he so! in Love! 'ods my Life! is she! what's her Name? where does she live? I warrant you I know her, she's in my Table-Book I'll warrant you: Virgin, Wise, or Widow!  [pulls out a Table-Book. Court. 
In troth Sir jolly, that's something a difficult question, but as Virgins go now, she may pass for one of them.  Sir jolly. 
Virgin very good: let me see; Virgin: Virgin, Virgin, oh here are the Virgins, truly I meet with the sewest of this sort of any, well and the first Letter of her Name now! for a wager I guess her.  Court. 
Then you must know Sir jolly, that I love my Love with an S.  Sir jolly. 
S. S. S. Oh here are the Esses, let me consider now— Sapph.  Court. 
No sir.  Sir jolly. 
Selinda.  Court. 
Neither.  Sir jolly. 
Sophronia.  Court. 
You must guests again I assure you.  Sir jolly. 
Silvia.  Court. 
Ay, Ay, Sir jolly, that's the fatal Name, Silvia the fair, the witty, the illnatured, do you know her my Friend?  Sir jolly. 
Know her? Why she is my Daughter, and I have adopted her these seven years: Silvia, let me look; Light Brown Hair, her Face Oval and Roman, quick sparkling Eyes, plump pregnant Ruby Lips, with a Mole on her Breast, and the perfect likeness of a Heart-Cherry on her left Knee; Ah Villain! Ah sly Cap! have I caught you; are you there i'faith? well and what says she? is she coming? do her Eyes betray her? does her Heart beat, and her Bubbies rise, when you talk to her, hah?—  Beau. 
Look you sir jolly, all things considered, it may make a shift to come to a Marriage in time.—  Sir jolly. 
I'll have nothing to do in it, I won't be seen in the business of Matrimony; make me a Matchmaker? a filthy Marriage Broker, Sir I scorn, I know better things; look you Friend, to carry her a Letter from you or so, upon good Terms, though it be in a Church I'll deliver it, or when the business is come to an issue, if I may bring you handsomely together, and so forth; I'll serve thee with all my Soul; and thank thee into the bargain: thank thee heartily dear Rogue, I will you little Cock-sparrow, faith and troth I will; but no Matrimony Friend, I'll have nothing to do with Matrimony; 'tis damned invention worse than a Monopoly, and a destroyer of civil correspondence.  Enter Drawer. Drawer. 
Gentlemen your room is ready, your Wine and Ice upon the Table, will your Honours please to walk in?  Sir jolly. 
Ay wine, wine, give us wine, a pox on Matrimony, Matrimony in the Devil's name.  Court. 
But if an honest Harlot or two chance to inquire for us Friend.  Sir jolly. 
Right Sirrah, if Whores come never so many, give 'em reverence, and reception, but nothing else, let nothing but Whores and Bottles come near us, as you tender your Ears.  [they go within the Scene where is discovered Table and Bottles. Beau. 
Why there's, there's the land of Canaan now in little, hark you, Drawer, Dog, shut, shut the Door Sirrah, do you hear, shut it so close, that neither cares, nor necessities may peep in upon us.  [Enter Sir Davy, Fourbin and Bloody Bones, Drawer.] Fourbin. 
Bloody-bones be you sure to behave yourself handsomely and like your profession, show yourself a Cutthroat of parts, and we'll fleece him.  Blood. 
My Lady says, We must be expeditious, Sir jolly has given notice to the Capt. by this time, so that nothing is wanting but the management of this oven-grown Gull to make us Hectors at large, and keep the Whore Fortune under.  Drawer. 
Welcome Gentlemen, very welcome Sir, wilt please you to walk into a Room? or shall I wait upon your Honour's pleasure here.  Sir Da. 
Sweet heart let us be private, and bring us Wine hither, so— [sits down. From this moment, War, war; and mortal dudgeon against that enemy of my Honour, and Thief of my good Name called Beaugard. you can cut a Throat upon occasion you say Friend.  Fourbin. 
Sir cutting of Throats is my Hereditary vocation, my Father was hanged for cutting of Throats before me, and my Mother for cutting of Purses.  Sir Da. 
No▪ more to be said, my Courage is mounted like a little Frenchman upon a great Horse; and I'll have him murdered.  Fourbin. 
Sir, Murdered you say Sir?  Sir Da. 
Ay Murdered I say Sir, his Face slayed off, and nailed to a post in my great Hall in the Country, amongst all the other Trophies of wild Beasts slain by our Family since the Conquest: there's never a Whoremasters head there yet.  Fourbin. 
Sir for that let me recommend this worthy Friend of mine to your Service, he's an industrious Gentleman and one that will deserve your Favour.  Sir Da. 
He looks but something ruggedly though methinks.  Fourbin. 
But Sir his Parts will atone for his Person: forms and fashions are the least of his study: he affects a sort of Philosophical negligence indeed, but Sir make trial of him, and you'll find him a Person fit for the work of this World.  Sir Da. 
What trade are you Friend?  Blood. 
No trade at all Friend, I profess Murder: Rascally Butchers make a trade on't, 'tis a Gentleman's Divertisement.  Sir Da. 
Do you profess Murder.  Blood. 
Yes sir, 'tis my Livelihood: I keep a Wife and six Children by it.  Sir Da. 
Then Sir here's to you withal my Heart; would I had done with these Fellows.  Fourb. 
Well Sir if you have any Service for us; I desire we may receive your Gold and your instructions so soon as is possible.  Sir Da. 
Soft and fair Sweetheart, I love to see a little how I lay out my Money: have you very good trading now a days in your way Friend?  Blood. 
In peaceable times a man may eat and drink comfortably upon't, a private Murder done handsomely is worth Money: but now that the Nation's unsettled there are so many general undertakers▪ that 'tis grown almost a Monopoly, you may have a man Murdered almost for little or nothing and no Lady e'er know who did it neither.  Sir Da. 
Pray what Country man are you? where were you born most Noble Sir?  Blood. 
Indeed my Country is Foreign, I was Born in Argier; my Mother was an Apostate Greek my Father a Ranegado English Man, who by oppressing of Chistian Slaves grew Rich; for which when he lay sick, I Murdered him one day in his Bed: made my escape to Maltha, where embracing the Faith I had the Honour given me to command a thousand Horse aboard the Galleys of that State.  Sir Da. 
Oh Lord Sir! my humble Service to you again.  Fourbin. 
He tells you Sir but the naked Truth.  Sir jolly. 
I doubt it not in the least most worthy Sir: these are devilish Fellows I'll warrant 'em  [Aside. Fourb. 
War Friend, and shining Honour has been our Province, till rusty peace▪ reduced us to this base obscurity, Ah Bloody Bones! Ah when thou and I commanded that party as the Siege of Philipsburgh! where in the Face of the Army we took the impenetrable half Moon.  Blood. 
Half Moon Sir! by your Favour 'twas a whole Moon.  Fourbin. 
Brother thou art in the right, 'twas a full Moon, and such a Moon Sir!—  Sir Da. 
I doubt it not in the least Gentlemen, but in the meanwhile to our business.  Fourbin. 
With all my Heart so soon as you please.  Sir Da. 
Do you know this Beaugard, he's a deulish fellow I can tell you but that, he's a Captain.  Fourbin. 
Has he a Heart think you Sir?  Sir Da. 
Oh like a Lion! he fears neither God, Man, nor Devil.  Blood. 
I'll bring it you for your Breakfast to Morrow, did you never eat a Man's Heart Sir?  Sir Da. 
Eat a Man's Heart Friend!  Fourb. 
Ah, Ay, a Man's Heart Sir, it makes absolutely the best Raggoust in the World: I have eaten forty of 'em in my time without Bread.  Sir Dau. 
Oh Lord! a Man's Heart! my humble service to you Both Gentlemen.  Blood. 
Why your Algerine Pirates eat nothing else at sea, they have them always potted up like Venison, your well-grown Dutchmans' Heart makes an excellent Dish with Oil and Pepper.  Sir Dau. 
Oh Lord! oh Lord! Friend, Friend, a word with you: how much must you and your Companion have to do this business?  Fourb. 
What and bring you the Heart home to your house?  Sir Dau. 
No, no, keeping the Heart for your own eating, I'll be rid of 'em as soon as possible I can.  Fourb. 
You say Sir he's a Gentleman?—  Sir Dau. 
Ay such a sort of Gentleman as are about this Town: the Fellow has a pretty handsome outside, but I believe little or no money in his Pockets.  Fourb. 
Therefore we are like to have the honour to receive the more from your Worship's bounty.  Blood. 
For my part I care for no man's bounty: I expect to have my bargain perform'ed, and I'll make as good a one as I can.  Sir Dau. 
Look you Friend,: don't you be angry Friend, don't be angry Friend before you have occasion: you say you'll have— let's see how much will you have now— I warrant the Devil and all by your good will.  Fourb. 
Truly Sir David if as you say, the Man must be well murdered without any remorse or mercy, betwixt Turk and Jew it is honestly worth two hundred pounds.  Sir Dau. 
Two hundred pounds! Why I'll have a Physician shall kill a whole Family for half the money.  Blood. 
Damn Sir, how do yemean?  Sir Dau. 
Damn Sir how do I mean? Damn Sir not to part with my money.  Blood. 
Not part Brother!  Fourb. 
Brother the Wight is improveable, and this must not be born withal.  Blood. 
Have I for this dissolved Circean Charms? broke Iron durance: whilst from these firm Legs the well filled useless Fetters dropped away, and left me Master of my native freedom.  Sir Dau. 
What, what does he mean now?  Fourb. 
Truly Sir I am sorry to see it with all my heart, 'tis a distraction that frequently seizes him, though I am sorry it should happen so unluckily at this time.  Sir Dau. 
Distracted say you! is he so apt to be distracted?  Fourb. 
Oh Sir raging mad: we that live by Murder are all so: Guilt will never let us sleep. I beseech you Sir stand clear of him, he's apt to be very mischievous at these unfortunate hours.  Blood. 
Have I been drunk with tender Infant's blood? and ripped up teeming Wombs? Have these bold hands ransacked the Temples of the Gods, and stabbed the Priests before their Altars? Have I done this? hah!  Sir Dau. 
No Sir, not that I know Sir, I would not say any such thing for all the World Sir, worthy Gentleman, I beseech you Sir, you seem to be a civil person: I beseech you Sir to mitigate his passion, I'll do any thing in the World, you shall command my whole Estate.  Fourb. 
Nay after all Sir, if you have not a ming to have him quite murdered, if a swinging drubbing to bedrid him or, so, will serve your turn, you may have it at a cheaper rate a great deal.  Sir Dau. 
Truly Sir, with all my heart, for methinks now I consider matters better, I would not by any means be guilty of another man's blood.  Fourb. 
Why then let me consider— to have him beaten substantially, a beating that will stick by him, will cost you— half the money.  Sir Dau. 
What one hundred pounds! Sure the Devil's in you, or you would not be so unconscionable.  Blood. 
The Devil! where? where is the Devil? show me; I'll tell thee Belzebub thou hast broke thy Covenant, didst thou not promise me eternal plenty, when I resigned my Soul to thy allurements '  Sir Dau. 
Ah Lord!  Blood. 
Touch me not yet: I've yet ten thousand Murders to Act before I'm thine: with all those sins I'll come with full damnation to thy Caverns of endless pain and howl with thee for ever.  Sir Dau. 
Bless us! what will become of this mortal Body of mine? Where am I? Is this a house? do I live? am I Flesh and Blood?  Blood. 
There, there's the Fiend again! done't chatter so, and grin at me, if thou must needs have prey, take here, take him, this Tempter that would bribe me with shining Gold, to stain my hands with new iniquity.  Sir Dau. 
Stand off I charge thee Stain, wheresoe'er thou art, thou hast no right nor claim to me, I'll have thee bound in Necromantic Charms. Hark you Friend, has the Gentleman given Soul to the Devil?  Fourb. 
Only pawned it a little: that's all.  Sir Dau. 
Let me beseech you Sir to dispatch, and get rid of him as soon as you can. I would gladly drink a Bottle with you Sir, but I hate the Devil's Company mortally, as for the hundred pound here, here it is ready, no more words, I'll submit to your good nature and discretion.  Fourb. 
Then Wretch take this and make thy peace with the infernal King, he loves Riches, sacrifice and be at rest.  Blood. 
'Tis done: I'll follow thee, lead on, nay if thou smile, I more defy thee▪ Eee, Fa, Fum.  [Exit. Fourb. 
'Tis very odd this.  Sir Dau. 
Very odd indeed I'm glad he's gone though.  Fourb. 
Now Sir, if you please we'll refresh ourselves with a cheerful glass, and so Chaque un chez lui— ay would fain make the Gull drunk a little to put a little mettle into him▪  Sir Dau. 
With all my heart Sir, but no more words of the Devil, if you love me.  Fourb. 
The Devil's an Ass Sir, and here's a Health to all those that defy the Devil  Sir Dau. 
With all my heart, and all his works too.  Fourb. 
Nay Sir, you must do me right I assure you.  Sir Dau. 
Not so full, I not so full, that's too much of all Conscience: in 〈◊〉 Friend these are sad times, very sad times: but here's to you.  Fourb. 
Pox o' the times, the times are well enough so long as a man has money in his Pocket.  Sir Dau. 
'Tis true, here I have been bargaining with you about a Murder, but never consider that Idolatry is coming in full speed upon the Nation, pray what Religion are you of Friend?  Fourb. 
What Religion am I of sir? Sir your humble Servant.  Sir Dau. 
Truly a good Conscience is a great happiness; and so I'll pledge you, hemph, hemph, but shan't the Dog be Murdered this Night.  Fourb. 
My Brother Rogue is gone by this time to set him, and the business shall be done effectually I'll warrant you, here's rest his soul.  Sir Dau. 
With all my Heart Faith, I hate to be uncharitable.  Enter Courtine, and Drawer. Cour. 
Look you 'tis a very impudent thing not to be drunk by this time, shall Rogues stay in Taverns to sip Pints, and be Sober, when honest Gentlemen are drunk by Gallons, I'll have none on't.  Sir Da. 
Oh Lord, whose's there?  [Sit up in his Chair. Drawer. 
I beseech your Honour, our house will be utterly ruined by this means.  Cour. 
Damn your house, your Wife and Children, and all your Family, you Dog!  Beau. 
Sir, who are you.  [To Sir David. Sir Da. 
Who am I Sir? what's that to you, Sir? will you tickle my Foot you Rogue!  Cour. 
I'll tickle your Guts you Paultroon presently.  Sir Da. 
Tickle my guts you Madcap, I'll tickle your Toby if you do.  Cour. 
What with that circumsised Band? That grave hypocrytital Beard of the reformation Cut? Old Fellow, I believe your a Rogue.  Sir Da. 
Sirrah you are a Whore, an errand Bitch-Whore, I'll use you like a Whore, I'll kiss you, you Jade, I'll Ravish you, you Buttuck, I am a Justice of the Peace, Sirrah, and that's worse.  Court 
Damn you, Sir, I care not if you were a Constable and all his Watch; what, such a Rogue as you send honest Fellows to prison, and countenance Whores in your Jurisdiction for bribery, you Mongrel, I'll beat you, Sirrah, I'll brain you, I'll murder you, you Mooncalf.  [Throws the Chairs after him. Sir Da. 
Sir, Sir, Sir, Constable, Watch, stokes, stokes, stokes, murder—  [Ex. Caur. 
Huzza, Beaugard!  [Enter Beaugard, Sir Jolly. Four. 
Well, Sir, the busivefs is done, we have bargained to Murder you.  Beau. 
Murdered! whose to be murdered? ha, Fourbin!  Sir jol. 
You are to be murdered, Friend, you shall be murdered, Friend.  Beau. 
But how am I to be murdered? Who's to murder me, I beseech you?  Four. 
Your humble Servant, Fourbin, I am the man with your worship's leave, Sir David, has given me this gold to do it handsomely.  Beau. 
Sir David! uncharitable Cur, what Murder an honest Fellow for being Civil to his Family? What can this mean Gentlemen?  Sir jol. 
No 'tis for not being Civil to his Family, that it means Gentleman, therefore are you to be murdered to Night, and buried a Bed with my Lady, you Jack Straw, you.  Beau. 
I understand you Friends, the old Gentleman has designed to have me butchered and you have kindly contrived to turn it to my advantage in the affair of Love, I am to be murdered but as it were Gentlemen, hah!  Four. 
Your Honour has a piercing Judgement: Sir, Captain Courtines gone.  Beau. 
No matter let him go, he has a design to put in practice this Night too, and would perhaps but spoil ours; but when, Sir jolly, is this business to be brought about.  Sir jol. 
Presently, 'tis more than time 'twere done already, go, get you gone I say▪ hold, hold, let's see your left Ear first, hum— ha— you are a Rogue, you're a Rogue, get you gone, get you gone, go.  [Exeunt. SCENE changes to Covent-Garden Piazza. Enter Sylvia and Maid in the Balcony. Maid. 
But why Madam, will you use him so inhumanly? I'm confident he loves you.  Sylu. 
Oh! a true Lover is to be found out like a true Saint, by the Trial of his patience; have you the Cords ready.  Maid. 
Here they are, Madam.  Sylu. 
Letv 'em down, and be sure what it comes to Trial, to pull lustily; is Will. the Footman ready.  Will. 
At your Ladyship's command, Madam.  Sylu. 
I wonder he should stay so long, the Clock has struck twelve.  Enter Courtine. Court. Sings. 
And was she not frank and free▪  
And was she not kind to me.  
To lock up her Cat in her Cupboard,  
And give her key to me, to me:  
To lock up her Cat in her Cupboard,  
And give her key to me.  Sylu. 
This must be he: Ay 'tis he, and as I am a Virgin roaring drunk; but if I find not a way to make him sober—  Court. 
Here, here's the Window: Ay, that's Hell-door, and my damnation's in the inside: Sylvia, Sylvia, Sylvia: Dear Imp of Satan appear to thy Servant.  Sylu. 
Who calls on Sylvia in this dead of night, when rest is wanting to her longing eyes.  Cour. 
'Tis a poor wretch can hardly stand upright drunk with thy Love, and if he falls he lies.  Sylu. 
Courtine, is't you?  Court. 
Yes, Sweetheart 'tis I, art thou ready for me?  Sylu. 
Fasten yourself to that Cord there; there, there it is.  Court. 
Cord! where? Oh, oh, here, here, so now to Heaven in a string.  Sylu. 
Have you done.  Court. 
Yes, I have done Child, and would said be doing too Hussy.  Sylu. 
Then pull away, hoa up, hoa up, hoa up, so avast there, Sir.  Court. 
Madam.  Sylu. 
Are you very much in Love, Sir?  Court. 
Oh damnably Child, damnably.  Sylu. 
I'm sorry for't with all my heart, good Night Captain.  Court. 
Ha gone, what left in Erasinus Paradise between Heaven and Hell? If the Constable should take me now for a straggling Monkey hung by the Loins, and hunt me with his cry of Watchmen! Ah Woman, Woman, Woman, well a merry Life, and a short, that's all.  Sings. 
God prosper long our Noble King,  
Our Lives and Safeties all.  
I am mighty loyal to Night.  Enter Fourbin, and Bloody-bones as from Sir David's House. Fourb. 
Murder, Murder, Murder! help, help, Murder.  Court. 
Nay, if there be murder stirring, 'tis high time to shift formy self.  [Climbs up to the Balcony. Sylu. 
(Squeaking,) A h h h h!  Blood. 
Yonder, yonder he comes murder, murder, murder.  [Ex. Blood, and Fourbin. Enter Sir David. Sir Da. 
'Tis very Late; but Murder is a melancholy business, and Night is fit for't, I'll go home.  [Knocks. Verm. 
Who's there?  Sir Da. 
Whose there? open the door you Whelp of Babylon.  Verm. 
Oh Sir, you're Welcome home; but here is the saddest news! here has been murder committed, Sir.  Sir Da. 
Hold your Tongue you Fool, and go to sleep, get you in do you hear, you talk of Murder you Rogue? you meddle with State-Affairs? Get you in.  The Scene opens the middle of the House and discovers Sir Jolly and the Lady putting Beaugard in order as if he were dead. Sir jol. 
Lie still, lie still you Knave, close, close when I bid you, you had best quest, and spoil the sport, you had!  Beau. 
But pray how long must I lie thus?  Lady D. 
I'll warrant you, you'll think the time mighty tedious.  Beau. 
Sweet Creature, who can counterfeit Death when you are near him?  Sir jol. 
You shall Sirrah, if a body desires you a little, so you shall, we shall spoil all else, all will be spoiled else Man, if you do not: Stretch out longer, longer yet, as long as ever you can, so so, hold your breath, hold your breath, very well.  [Enter Maid. Mai. 
Madam, here comes Sir David.  Sir jol. 
Odds so, now close again as I told you, close you Devil, now stir if you dare; stir but any part about you if you dare now; odd I hit you such a rap if you do, lie still, lie you still.  [Enter Sir David. Sir Da. 
My Dear, how dost thou do, my Dear? I am come.  Lady D. 
Ah Sir! what is't you've done? Y'ave ruined me, your Family, your Fortune, all is ruined, where shall we go, or whither shall we fly?  Sir Da. 
Where shall we go, why we'll go to bed you little Jackadandy, why you are not a Wench you Rogue, you are a Box, a very Boy, and I love you the better for't, Sirrah hei!—  Lady D. 
Ah Sir, see there.  Sir Da. 
Bless us, a man! and bloody! what upon my Hall Table!  Lady D. 
Two Ruffians brought him in just now pronouncing the inhuman deed, was done by your command, Sir jolly came in the distracting Minute, or sure I had died with my distracting Fears, how could you think on a revenge so horrid?  Sir Da. 
As I hope to be saved Neighbour I only bargained with 'em to Bastinado him in a way, or so, as one Friend might do another, but do you say that he is dead?  Sir jol. 
Dead, dead as Clay; stark stiff and useless all, nothing about him stirring, but all's cold and still, I knew him a lusty Fellow once, a very metteled Fellow, 'tis a thousand pities.  Sir Da. 
What shall I do? I'll throw myself upon him, kiss his wide wounds and weep till blind as Buzzard.  Lady D. 
Oh come not near him, there's such horrid Antipathy follows all murders, his wounds would stream afresh should you but touch him.  Sir Da. 
Dear Neighbour, Dearest Neighbour, Friend, Sir jolly as you love Charity pity my wretched Case, and give me Counsel, I'll give my Wife and all my Estate to have him live again, or shall I bury him in the Arbour at the upper end of the Garden.  Sir jol. 
Alas a day Neighbour, never think on't, never think on't, the dogs will find him there, as they scrape holes to bury bones in, there is but one way that I know of.  Sir Da. 
What is it dear Neighbour, what is it? you see I am upon my knees to you, take all I have and ease me of my fears.  Sir jol. 
Truly the best thing that I can think of, is putting of him to bed, putting him into a warm bed, and try to fetch him to life again, a warm bed is the best thing in the World, my Lady may do much too, she's a good Woman, and as I've been told, understands a green wound well.  Sir Da. 
My dear, my dear, my dear!  Lady D. 
Bear me away, oh send me hence far off, where my unhappy name may be a stranger; and this sad accident no more remembered to my dishonour.  Sir Da. 
Ah but my Love! my Joy! are there no bowels in thee.  Lady D. 
What would you have me do?  Sir Da. 
Prithee do so much as try thy skill, there may be one drachm of life left in him yet, take him up to thy Chamber, put him into thy own bed, and try what thou canst do with him; prithee do, if thou canst but find motion in him, all may be well yet, I'll go up to my Closet in the Garret, and say my prayers in the mean while.  Lady D. 
Will ye then leave this ruin on my hands.  Sir Da. 
Pray, pray my Dear, I beseech you Neighbour help to persuade her if it be possible.  Sir jol. 
Faith Madam do, try what you can do, I have a great fancy you may do him good: who can tell but you may have the gift of stroking; pray Madam be persuaded.  Lady D. 
I'll do what e'r's your pleasure.  Sir Da. 
That's my best Dea●: I'll go to my Closet and pray for thee heartily, Alas, alas, that ever this should happen—  Exit. Beaug. 
So, is he gone, Madam my Angel!  Sir jol. 
What no thanks, no reward for old jolly now? Come hither Hussie, you little Canary- bird, you little Hop o' my thumb come hither: make me a Curtsy, and give me a kiss now, hah! give me a kiss I say, odd I will have a kiss, so I will, I will have a kiss if I set on't; shoogh, shoogh, shoogh, get you into a corner when I bid you, shoogh, shoogh, shoogh, what there already? [She goes to Beaugard. Well, I ha' done, I ha' done, this 'tis to be an old Fellow now.  Beau. 
And will you save the life of him you've wounded?  Lady D. 
Dare you trust yourself to my skill for a cure?  [Sir Davy appears at a Window above. Sir jol. 
Hist! hist! close, close, I say again, yonder's Sir Davy, odds so!  Sir Da. 
My dear, my dear! my dear!—  Lady D. 
whose's that calls? my Love, is't you.  Sir Da. 
Ah some comfort, or my heart's broke▪ is there any hopes yet? I've tried to say my Prayers and cannot: if he be quite dead▪ I shall never pray again; Neighbour, no hopes?  Sir jol. 
Truly little or none, some small pulse I think there is left, very little, there's nothing to be done if you don't pray, get you to prayers, what ever you do, get you gone, nay don't stay now, shut the Window I tell you.  Sir Da. 
Well this is a great trouble to me, but good night.  Sir jol. 
Good night to you dear Neighbour. Get ye up [to Beaugard and Lady D.] get ye up and be gone into the next room, presently, make haste: but don't steal away till I come to you, be sure ye remember, don't ye stir till I come; Pish, none of this bowing and fooling, it but loses time, I'll only bolt the door that belongs to Sir Davy's Lodgings, that he may be safe, and he with you in a twinkle, Ah, h, h, h! so now for the door, very well, Friend you are fast.  [Bolts the door. Sings. 
Bonney Lass 'gan thou wert mine,  
And twenty thousand poonds aboot thee, etc.   

ACT. V.  Courtine bound on a Couch in Sylvia's Chamber. Cour. 
HEigho! heigho! ha! where am I? was I drunk or no last night? something leaning that way. But where the Devil am I? sincerely in a Bawdy-House: Fogh! what a smell of sin is here! let me look about; if there be ever a Geneva Bible or a Practice of Piety in the room. I am sure I have guest right, what's the matter now! tied fast! bound too! what tricks have I played to come into this condition! I have lighted into the Territories of some merrily disposed Chamber maid or other, and she in a witty sit forsooth hath trust me up thus, has she pinned no rags to my tail, or chalked me upon the back trow? would I had her Mistress here at a venture:  Sylu. 
What would you do with her my enchanted Knight if you had her, you are too sober for her by this time, next time you get drunk you may perhaps venture to scale her Balcany like a valiant Captain as you are.  Cour. 
Hast thou done this my dear destruction ● and am I in thy limbo? I must confess when I am in my Beer, my Courage does 〈◊〉 away with me now and then: but let me lose and thou shalt see what a gentle humble Animal thou hast made me. Fie upon't, what tie me up like an ungovernable cur to the frame of a table, let, let thy poor dog lose that he may fawn and make much of thee a little.  Sylu. 
What with those Paws which you have been ferreting moorfield's withal, and are very dirty still? after you have been daggling yourself abroad for prey, and can meet with none, you come sneaking hither for a crust, do you?  Maid. 
Shall I fetch the Whip and the Bell, Madam? and flash him for his roguery soundly?  Cour. 
Indeed, indeed! do you long to be forking of man's flesh, Madam Flea-trap? does the Chaplain of the Family use you to the exercise, that you are so ready for it?  Sylu. 
If you should be let loose and taken into favour now; you would be for rambling again so soon as you had got your liberty?  Cour. 
Do but try me, and if ever I prove recreant more, let me be beaten and used like a dog in good earnest.  Sylu. 
Promise to grant me but one request, and it shall be done  Cour. 
Hear me but Swear.  Sylu. 
That any body may do ten thousand times a day.  Cour. 
Upon the word of a Gentleman, nay as I hope to get Money in my Pocket.  Sylu. 
There I believe him l●lye, you'll keep your Word you say.  Cour. 
If I don't, hang me up in that Wenches old Garters.  Sylu. 
See Sir, you have your freedom.  Cour. 
Well now name the price; what must I pay for't?  Sylu. 
You know Sir, considering our small acquaintance, you have been pleased to talk to me very freely of love matters.  Cour. 
I must confess, I have been something to blame that way, but if ever thou hearest more of it from my mouth after this night's adventure, would I were well out of the House!  Sylu. 
Have a care of swearing, I beseech you, for you must understand, that spite of my teeth, I am at last fallen in love most unmercifully.  Cour. 
And dost thou imagine I am so hard-hearted a Villain as to have no compassion of thee.  Sylu. 
No, for I hope he's a man you can have no exceptions against.  Cour. 
Yes, yes, the man is a man, I'll assure you, that's one comfort  Sylu. 
Who do you think it may be now? try if you can guests him.  Cour. 
Whoever he is, he's an honest fellow I'll warrant him, and I believe will not think himself very unhappy neither.  Sylu. 
If a Fortune of 5000 pounds, pleasant nights, and quiet days can make him happy, I assure you he may be so, but try once to guests at him.  Cour. 
But if I should be mistaken.  Sylu. 
Why who is it you would wish me to?  Cour. 
You have 5000 pound you say?  Sylu. 
Yes.  Cour. 
Faith Child to deal honestly I know well enough who 'tis I wish for, but Sweetheart, before I tell you my inclinations, it were but reasonable that I knew yours.  Sylu. 
Well Sir, because I am confident you will stand my friend in the business, I'll make a discovery, and to hold you in suspense no longer, you must know I have a months-mind to an Arm full of your dearly beloved friend and brother Captain, what say you to't?  Cour. 
Madam your humble Servant, good buy, that's all.  Sylu. 
What thus cruelly leave a Lady that so kindly took you in in your last night's pickle into her Lodging, whither would you rove now, my Wanderer?  Cour. 
Faith Madam, you have dealt so gallantly in trusting me with your passion, that I cannot stay here without telling you, that I am three times as much in love with an acquaintance of yours, as you can be with any friend of mine.  Sylu. 
Not with my waiting Woman I hope, Sir.  Cour. 
No, but it is with a certain Kinswoman of thine Child, they call her my Lady Dunce, and I think this is her House too, they say she will be civil upon a good occasion, therefore prithee be charitable, and show me the way to her Chamber a little.  Sylu. 
What commit Adultery Captain, fie upon't! What hazard your soul!  Cour. 
No, no, only venture my body a little, that's all; look you, you know the secret, and may imagine my desires, therefore as you would have me assist your inclinations, pray be civil and help me to mine, look you, no demurring upon the matter, no qualms, but show me the way, or you Hussie, you shall do't, any Bawd will serve at present, for I will go.  Sylu. 
But you shan't go, Sir.  Cour. 
Shan't go, Lady?  Sylu. 
No, shan't go, Sir▪ did I not tell you when once you had got your liberty, that you would be rambling again.  Cour. 
Why Child, wouldst thou be so uncharitable to tie up a poor Jade to an empty Rack in thy Stable, when he knows where to go elsewhere and get Provender enough.  Sylu. 
Any musty Provender, I find, will serve your turn, so you have it but cheap, or at another man's charges.  Cour. 
No Child, I had rather my Ox should graze in a Field of my own, than live hidebound upon the Common, or run the hazard of being Pounded every day for trespasser.  Sylu. 
Truly all things considered, 'tis great pity so good a Husband man as you should want a Farm to cultivate.  Cour. 
Wouldst thou be but kind, and let me have a bargain in a Tenement of thine, to try how it would agree with me.  Sylu. 
And would you be contented to take a Lease for your Life.  Cour. 
So pretty a Lady of the Manor and a moderate Rent.  Sylu. 
Which you'll be sure to pay very punctually.  Cour. 
If thou doubtest my honesty, faith e'en take a little earnest before hand.  Sylu. 
Not so hasty neither, good Tenant; Imprimis, You shall oblige yourself to a constant residence, and not by leaving the House uninhabited, let it run to repairs.  Cour. 
Agreed.  Sylu. 
Item, For your own sake you shall promise to keep the Estate well 〈◊〉, and enclosed least sometime or other your Neighbours Cattle break in and spoil the crop on the Ground Friend.  Cour. 
Very just and reasonable, provided I done't find it lie too much to Common already.  Sylu. 
Item, You shall enter into strict Covenant, not to take any other Farm upon your hands, without my consent and approbation, or if you do, that then it shall be lawful for me to get me another Tenant, how and where I think sit.  Cour. 
Faith that's something hard though, let me tell you but that Landlady.  Sylu. 
Upon these terms we'll draw Articles.  Cour. 
And when shall we Sign 'em.  Sylu. 
Why this morning as soon as the ten a Clock Office in Covent-garden is open.  Cour. 
A bargain, but how will you answer your entertainment of a drunken Red-coat in your Lodgings at these unseasonable hours.  Sylu. 
That's a secret you will be hereafter obliged to keep for your own sake, and for the Family, your Friend Beaugard shall answer for us there.  Cour. 
Indeed I fancied the Rogue had mischief in his head, he behaved himself so soberly last night, has he taken a Farm lately too.  Sylu. 
A trespasser, I believe, if the truth were known upon the Provender you would fain have been biting at just now.  Enter Maid. Maid. 
Madam, Madam, have a care of yourself; I see Lights in the great Hall, whatever is the matter, Sir Davy and all the Family are up.  Cour. 
I hope they'll come and catch me here: Well, now you have brought me into this condition, what will you do with me, hah!  Sylu. 
You won't be contented for a while to be tied up like a Jade to an empty Rack without Hay, will you?  Cour. 
Faith e'en take me, and put my mark upon me quickly, that if I light into strange hands they may know me for a Sheep of thine.  Sylu. 
What by your wanting a Fleece do you mean? If it must be so come follow your Sheperdess B a a a.  [Exeunt. Enter Sir. Davy and Vermin. Sir Da. 
I cannot sleep, I shall never sleep again, I have prayed too so long, that were I to be hanged presently, I have never a prayer left to help myself, I was no sooner lain down upon the Bed just now, and fallen into a slumber, but methought the Devil was carrying me down Ludgate-hill a Gallop, six puny Fiends with flaming Fireforks running before him like Link boys, to throw me headlong into Fleet●●●ch, which seemed to be turned into a lake of Fire and Brimstone; would it were Morning.  Verm. 
Truly, Sir, it has been a very dismal night.  Sir Da. 
But didst thou meet never a white thing upon the stairs.  Verm. 
No, Sir, not I, but methoughts I saw our great Dog Touzer, with his brass Collar on, stand at the Cellardoor as I came along the old Entry.  Sir Da. 
It could never be, Touzer has a Chain, had this thing a Chain on?  Verm. 
No Sir, no Chain but it had Touzers eyes for all the World.  Sir Da. 
What ugly great frightful eyes?  Verm. 
Ay, Ay, huge sauser eyes, but mightily like Touzers.  Sir Da. 
Oh Lord! oh Lord! hark! hark!  Verm. 
What! what I beseech you Sir!  Sir Da. 
What's that upon the stairs? didst thou hear nothing? hist, hark, pat, pat, pat, hark, heih!  Verm. 
Hear nothing! where Sir.  Sir Da. 
Look! look! what's that! what's that! in the corner there?  Verm. 
Where?  Sir Da. 
There.  Verm. 
What upon the Iron Ghost?  Sir Da. 
No, the long black thing up by the old Clock-case, see! see! now it stirs, and is coming this way.  Verm. 
Alas, Sir, speak to it, you are a Justice 'o peace, I beseech you, I dare not stay in the House: I'll call the Watch and tell 'em Hell's broke loose, what shall I do? oh!  [Exit. Sir Da. 
Oh Vermin, if thou art a true Servant have pity on thy Master, and do not forsake me in this distressed condition, Satan be gone, I defy thee, I'll repent and be saved, I'll say my prayers, I'll go to Church; help! help! help! was there any thing, or no, in what hole shall I hide myself.  [Exit. Enter Sir Jolly, Fourbin and Bloody-bones. Sir jol. 
That should be Sir Davy's voice, the waiting Woman indeed told me he was afraid and could not sleep, pretty Fellows, pretty Fellows both you've done your business handsomely, what I'll warrant you have been a Whoring together now hah! You do well, you do dwell, I like you the better for't, what's a Clock?  Four. 
Near four, Sir, 'twill not be day yet these two hours.  Sir jol. 
Very well, but how got ye into the House?  Fourb. 
A ragged retainer of the Family, Vermin I think they call him, let us in as Physicians sent for by your Order.  Sir jol. 
Excellent Rogues! and than I hope all things are ready as I gave Directions.  Fourb. 
To a tittle, Sir, there shall not be a more critical Observer of your Worship's pleasure than your humble Servant the Chevalier Fourbin.  Sir jol. 
Get you gone you Rogue, You have a sharp Nose, and are a nimble Fellow; I have no more to say to you, stand aside▪ and be ready when I call, here he comes, hist, hem, hem, hem.  Enter Sir Dary. Sir Da. 
Ha! what art thou? approach thou like the rugged Bankside Bear, the Eastcheap-bull, or Monster shown in Fair, take any shape but that, and I'll confront thee.  Sir jol. 
Alas unhappy Man! I am thy Friend.  Sir Da. 
Thou caused not be my Friend for I defy thee, Sir jolly! Neighbour! hah! is it you? are you sure it is you, are you? Yourself? if you be give me your hand, Alas a day I ha' seen the Devil.  Sir jol. 
The Devil Neighbour!  Sir Da. 
Ay, Ay, there's no help for't, at first I fancied it was a young white Bear's Cub danceing in the shadow of my Candle, then ● was turned to a pair of blue Breaches with wooden legs on, stamped about the room as if all the Cripples in Town had kept their Rendezvous there, when all of a sudden it appeared like a leathern Serpent, and with a dreadful clap of Thunder flew out of the Window.  Sir jol. 
Thunder! Why I heard no Thunder.  Sir Da. 
That may be too, what were you asleep?  Sir jol. 
A sleep quotha, no, no, no sleeping this Night for me I assure you.  Sir Da. 
Well what's the best news then? How does the Man?  Sir jol. 
E'en as he did before he was born, nothing at all, he's Dead.  Sir Da. 
Dead! what quite dead!  Sir jol. 
As good as dead, if not quite dead, 'twas a horrid Murder, and then the terror of Conscience, Neighbour.  Sir Da. 
And truly I have a very terrified one, Friend, though I never found I had any Conscience at all till now, pray where about was his death's wound?  Sir jol. 
Just here, just under his left Pap, a dreadful gash.  Sir Da. 
So very wide!  Sir jol. 
Oh, as wide as my Hat, you might have seen his Lungs, Liver and Heart, as perfectly, as if you had been in his Belly.  Sir Da. 
Is there no way to have him privately Buried and conceal this Murder, must I needs be hanged by the neck like a Dog, Neighbour; do I look as if I would be hanged?  Sir jol. 
Truly, Sir Davy, I must deal faithfully with you, you do look a little suspiciously at present; but have you seen the Devil, say you?  Sir Da. 
Ay surely, it was the Devil, nothing else could have frighted me so.  Sir jol. 
Bless us and guard us all the Angels, what's that?  Sir Da. 
Potestati sempiternaec ujus benevolentiâ servantur gentes, & cujus misericordia.  Kneels, holding up his hands and mut'ring as if he prayed Sir jol. 
Neighbour, where are you, Friend, Sir Davy.  Sir Da. 
Ah, what ever you do, be sure to stand close to me, where, where is it?  Sir jol. 
Just, just there, in the shape of a Coach and six Horses against the wall.  Sir Da. 
Deliver us all, he won't carry me away in that Coach and six will he?  Sir jol. 
Do you see it?  Sir Da. 
See it! plain, plain, dear Friend advise me what I shall do? Sir jolly, Sir jolly, do you hear nothing? Sir jolly, Ha! has he left me alone! Vermin.  Verm. 
Sir.  Sir Da. 
Am I alive? dost thou know me again? Am I thy Quondam Master, Sir Davy Dunce?  Verm. 
I hope I shall never forget you, Sir.  Sir Da. 
Didst thou see nothing?  Verm. 
Yes, Sir, methought the House was all o' fire as it were.  Sir Da. 
Didst thou not see how the Devils grinned and gnashed their teeth at me Vermin?  Verm. 
Alas, Sir, I was afraid one of 'em would have bit off my Nose, as he vanished out of the door.  Sir Da. 
Lead me away, I'll go to my Wise, I'll die by my own dear Wife; run away to the Temple and call Councillor my Lawyer, I'll make over my Estate presently, I shan't live till noon, I'll give all I have to my Wife, Ha Vermin!  Verm. 
Truly, Sir, she's a very good Lady.  Sir Da. 
Ah much, much too good for me Vermin, thou canst not imagine what she has done for me Man, she would break her heart if I should give any thing away from her, she loves me so dearly: Yet if I do die, thou shalt have all my old Shoes.  Verm. 
I hope to see you live Many a fair day yet though.  Sir Da. 
Ah, my Wife, my poor Wife, lead me to my poor Wife.  [Exeunt. Scene draws and discovers Sir Jolly, Beaugard, and Lady in her Chamber. Lady D. 
What think you now of a cold wet March over the Mountains, Your men tired, your Baggage not come up, but at night a dirty watery Plain to Encamp upon, and nothing to shelter you, but an old Leaguer Cloak as tattered as your Colours? is not this much better now than lying wet and getting the Sciatica?  Beaug. 
The hopes of this made all Fatigue easy to me, the thoughts of Clarinda have a thousand times 〈…〉 me in my solitude, when e'er I Marched, I fancied still it was to my Clarinda! when I fought, I imagined it was for my Clarinda! but when I came home, and found Clarinda lost!— how could you think of wasting but a night in the rank surfeiting arms of this foul feeding Monster? this rotten trunk of a Man▪ that lays claim to you.  Lady D. 
The persuasion of Friends and the Authority of Parents!  Beaug. 
And had you no more Grace, than to be ruled by a Father and Mother?  Lady D. 
When you were gone, that should have given me better Counsel, how could I help myself?  Beaug. 
Methinks then you might have found out some cleanlier shift to have thrown away yourself upon, than nauseous old age and unwholesome deformity.  Lady D. 
What upon some overgrown full fed Country Fool, with a Horse Face, a great ugly Head, and a great fine Estate, one that should have been drained and squeezed, and jolted up and down the Town in 〈◊〉 with Cheats and Hectors, and so sent home at three o' Clock every Morning like a lolling Booby stinking, with a belly full of s●●mm'd Wine, and nothing in's Pockets.  Beaug. 
You might have made a tractable Beast of such a one, he would have been young enough for Training.  Lady D. 
Is youth then so gentle if age be stubborn? Young men like Springs wrought by a subttle work man, easily ply to what their wishes press 'em, but the desire once gone that kept 'em down, they soon start straight again, and no signs left which way they bent before.  Sir Jolly 〈◊〉 the door peeping. Sir jol. 
So, so, who says I see any thing now? I see nothing not I, I don't see, I don't see, I don't look, not so much as look not I.  [Enters. Enter Sir Davy. Sir Da. 
I will have my Wife, carry me to my Wife, let me go to my Wife, I'll live and die with my Wife, let the Devil do his worst; Ah, my Wife, my Wife, my Wife!—  Lady D. 
Alas, alas, we are ruined, shift for yourself, counterfeit the dead 〈…〉 more, or any thing.  Sir Da. 
Ha! what foe're thou art, thou canst not eat me, speak to me, who has done this? thou canst not say I did it.  Sir jol. 
Did it, did what? here's no body says you did any thing that I know, Neighbour, what's the matter with you? what ails you? whither do you go? whither do you 〈◊〉? I tell you here's no body says a word to you.  Sir Da. 
Did you not see the Ghost just now?  Sir jol. 
Ghost! prithee now here's no Ghost, whither▪ would you go? I tell you, you shall not stir one foot farther Man, the Devil take me if you do; Ghost, prithee here's no Ghost at all, a little flesh and blood indeed there is, some old, some young, some alive, some dead, and so forth, but Ghost! Pish, here's no Ghost.  Sir Da. 
But, Sir, If I say I did see a Ghost, I did see a Ghost, and you go to that, why sure I know a Ghost when I see one: Ah my Dear, if thou hadst but seen the Devil half so often as I have seen him.  Lady Da. 
Alas, Sir Davy, if you ever loved me, come not, oh come not near me▪ I have resolved to waste the short remainder of my Life in Penitence, and taste of Joys no more.  Sir Da. 
Alas my poor Child, but do you think then there was no Ghost indeed.  Sir jol. 
Ghost! Alas a day, what should a Ghost do here?  Sir Da. 
And is the man dead?  Sir jol. 
Dead, Ay, ay, stark dead, he's stiff by this time.  Lady D. 
Here you may see the horrid ghastly Speetacle the sad effects of my too rigid Virtue, and your too fierce resentment—  Sir jol. 
Do you see there?  Sir Da. 
Ay, ay, I do see, would I had never seen him, would he had lain with my Wife in every House between Charen-Cross and Aldgate, so this had never happened.  Sir jol. 
In Troth, and would he had, but we are all mortal Neighbour, all mortal, to day we are here, to morrow gone, like the shadow that vanisheth, like the Grass that withereth, or like the Flower that fadeth, or indeed like any thing, or rather like nothing: but we are all mortal.  Sir Da. 
Heigh!—  Lady. D. 
Down, down that trap door, it goes into a bathing-Room, for the rest, leave it to my Conduct.  Sir jol. 
'Tis very unfortunate that you should run yourself into this praemunire, Sir David.  Sir Da. 
Indeed, and so it is.  Sir jol. 
For a Gentleman, a man in Authority, a person in years, one that used to go to Church with his Neighbours.  Sir Da. 
Every Sundry, truly, Sir jolly.  Sir jol. 
Pay Scot and Lot to the Parish.  Sir Da. 
Six pounds a year to the very Poor without abatement or deduction, 'tis very hard, if so good a commonwealths-man should be brought to ride in a Cart at last, and be hanged in a Sun-shiny morning, to make Butchers and suburd Apprentices a Holiday; I'll e'en run away.  Sir jol. 
Run away! why then your estate will be forseited, you'll lose your Estate man.  Sir Da. 
Truly, you say right, Friend, and a Man had better be half hanged then loose his Estate, you know.  Sir jol. 
Hanged! no, no, I think there's no great fear of Hanging neither; what, the Fellow was but a sort of an unaccountable Fellow as I heard you say.  Sir Da. 
Ay, ay, a 〈◊〉 on him, he was a Soldierly sort of a Vagabond, he had little or nothing but his sins to live upon▪ If I could have had but Patience, he would have been hanged within these two Months, and all this mischief saved.  Beaugard Rises up like a Ghost at a trap door, just before Sir David. Sir Da. 
Ah Lord! the Devil, the Devil, the Devil.  [Falls upon his Face. Sir jol. 
Why, Sir Davy, Sir Davy, what ails you? What's the matter with you?  Sir Da. 
Let me alone, let me lie still, I will not look up to see an Angel, O h h h.  Lady D. 
My Dear, why do you do these cruel things to affright me? Pray rise and speak to me.  Sir Da. 
I dare dot stir, I saw the Ghost again just now.  Lady D. 
Ghost again! what Ghost? Where?  Sir Da. 
Why, there, there.  Sir jol. 
Here has been no Ghost.  Sir Da. 
Why did you see nothing then?  Lady D. 
See nothing! no, nothing but one another.  Sir Da. 
Then I am enchanted, or my end near at hand, Neighbour, for Heaven's sake Neighbour advise me what I shall do to be at rest.  Sir jol. 
Do! why what think you if the Body were removed?  Sir Da. 
Removed! I'd give a hundred pound the Body were out of my House; may be then the Devil would not be so impudeut.  Sir jol. 
I have discovered a door place in the Wall, betwixt my Lady's Chamber and one that belongs to me, if you think fit, we'll beat it down and remove this trouble some lump of Earth to my House.  Sir Da. 
But will ye be so kind!  Sir jol. 
If you think it may by any means be serviceable to you.  Sir Da. 
Truly if the Body were removed, and disposed of privately that no more might be heard of the matter— I hope he'll be as good as his word.  Sir jol. 
Fear nothing I'll warrant you, but in troth, I had utterly forgot one thing, utterly forgot it.  Sir Da. 
What's thats?  Sir jol. 
Why it will be absolutely necessary that my Lady stayed with me at my House for one day till things were better settelled.  Sir Da. 
Ah, Sir jolly! whatever you think fit: any thing of mine that you have a mind to; pray take her, pray take her, you shall be very welcome; hear you my dearest, there is but one way for us to get rid of this untoward business, and Sir jolly has found it out, therefore by all means go along with him, and be ruled by him, and whatever Sir jolly would have thee do, e'en do it, so heaven prosper ye, good b'w'y, good b'w'y till I see you again.  [Exit. Sir jol. 
This is certainly, the civilest Cuckold in City, Town or Country.  Beau. 
Is he gone?  [Steps out. Lady D. 
Yes, and has left poor me here.  Beau. 
In troth, Madam, 'tis barbarously done of him, to commi a horrid murder on the Body of an innocent poor Fellow, and then leave you to stem the danger of it.  Sir jol. 
Odd an I were as thee Sweetheart I'd be revenged on him for it, so I would: Go get ye together, steal out of the house as softly as you can, I'll meet ye in the Piazza presently, go, be sure ye steal out of the House, and don't let Sir Davy see you.  The Scene shuts, and Sir Jolly comes forwards. Enter Bloody-bones. 
Bloody-bones.  Blood. 
I am here, Sir.  Sir jol. 
Go you and Fourbine to my House presently, bid Monsieur Fourbin remember that all things be ordered according to my directions, tell my Maids too I am coming home in a trice, bid 'em get the great Chamber, and the Banquet I spoke for ready presently, and d'ye hear carry the minstrels with ye too, for I'm resolved to rejoice this morning, let me see— Sir Davy.  Enter Sir Davy. Sir. Da. 
Ay Neighbour, 'tis I; is the business done? I cannot be satisfied till I am sure, have you removed the body, is it gone?  Sir jol. 
Yes, yes, my Servants conveyed it out of the House just now; well Sir Davy, a good morning to you: I wish you your health with all my Heart Sir Davy, the first thing you do though, I'd have you say your prayers by all means if you can.  Sir Da. 
If I can possibly, I will.  Sir jol. 
Well God b'w'y.  [Exit Sir Jolly. Sir Da. 
God b'w'y heartily good Neighbour— Vermine, Vermine.  Enter Vermin. Verm. 
Did your Honour call?  Sir Da. 
Go, run, run, presently over the square, and call the Constable presently, tell him here's murder committed, and that I must speak with him instantly— I'll e'en carry him to my Neighbours, that he may find the dead body there, and so let my Neighbour be very fairly hanged in my stead, hah! a very good jest as I hope to live, ha, ha, ha▪ hay, what's that?  Watchmen at the Door. 
Almost 4 a Clock and a dark cloudy morning, good morrow my Masters all, good morrow.  Enter Constable, and Watch. Const. 
How's this! a door open, come in Gentlemen,— ah, Sir Davy, your honours humble servant! I and my Watch going my morning Rounds, and finding your door open made bold to enter to see there were no danger, your Worship will excuse our care, a good morning to you, Sir.  Sir Da. 
Oh Mr. Constable, I'm glad you're here, I sent my man just now to call you, I have sad news to tell you, Mr. Constable.  Const. 
I am sorry for that, Sir, sad news!  Sir Da. 
Oh ay, sad news, very sad news truly: here has been murder committed.  Const. 
Murder; if that's all we are your humble servants, Sir, we'll bid you good morrow, murders nothing at this time o' night in Covent-Garden.  Sir Dau. 
Oh but this is a horrid bloody murder, done under my Nose, I cannot but take notice of it; though I am sorry to tell you the Authors of it, very sorry truly.  Const. 
Was it committed here near hand?  Sir Da. 
Oh at the very next door, a sad murder indeed; after they had done they carried the body privately into my Neighbour jollies House here, I am sorry to tell it you Mr. Constable, for I am afraid it will look but scurvily on his side; though I am a Justice o'Peace Gentlemen, and am bound by my Oath to take notice of it, I can't help it.  ● Watch. 
I never liked that Sir jolly.  Const. 
He threatened me t'other day, for carrying a little dirty draggle-tailed Whore to Bridewell, and said she was his Cousin, Sir if your Worship thinks sit, we'll go search his house.  Sir Da. 
Oh by all means, Gentlemen it must be so, Justice must have its course, the King's liege subjects must not be destroyed, Vermin, carry Mr. Constable and his Dragons into the Cellar, and make 〈◊〉 drink, I'll but step into my study, put on my Face of Authority, and call upon ye instantly.  All Watchm. 
We thank your honour.  Scene changes to Sir Jollies, A Banquet. Enter Sir Jolly, Beaugard, and Lady Dunce▪ Sir jol. 
So, are ye come? I am glad on't, odd you're welcome, very welcome, odd ye are, here's a small Banquet, but I hope 'twill please you, sit ye down, sit ye down, both together, nay, both together: A Pox o'him that parts ye, I say.  Beaug. 
Sir jolly, this might be an entertainment for Anthony and Cleopatra, were they living.  Sir jolly. 
Pish! A Pox of Anthony and Cleopatra, they are dead and rotten long ago, come, come, time's but short, time's but short, and must be made the best use of; for 
Youth's a flower that soon does fade,  
And life is but a span,  
Man was for the Woman made,  
And Woman made for Man.  Why now we can be bold, and make merry, and frisk, and be brisk, rejoice and make a noise, and— odd, I am pleased, mightily pleased, odd I am.  Lady D. 
Really, Sir jolly, you are more a Philosopher than I thought you were.  Sir jol. 
Philosopher, Madam! Yes, Madam, I have read Books in my times; odd Aristotle, in some things, had very pretty notions, he was an understanding Fellow. Why don't ye eat odd an' ye don't eat,— here Child, here's some Ringoes, help, help your Neighbour a little, odd they are very good, very comfortable, very cordial.  Beaug. 
Sir jolly, your Health.  Sir jol. 
With all my heart, old Boy.  Lady D. 
Dear Sir jolly what are these? I never tasted of these before.  Sir jol. 
That! eat it, eat it, eat it when I bid you; odd 'tis the root Satyrion, a very precious plant, I gather 'em every May myself, odd they'll make an old Fellow of sixty-five cut a Caper like a Dancing Master; give me some Wine: Madam, here's a health, here's a health Madam, here's a health to honest Sir Davy, faith and troth, ha, ha, ha.  [Dance. Enter Bloody-bones. Blood. 
Sir, Sir, Sir! What will you do? yonder's the Constable and all his Watch at the Door, and threatens demollishment, if not admitted presently.  Sir jol. 
Odds so! odds so! the Constable and his Watch! what's to be done now? get ye both into the Alcove there, get ye gone quickly, quickly, no noise, no noise, d'ye hear the Constable and his Watch! A Pox on the Constable and his Watch, what the Devil have the Constable and his Watch to do here?  Enter Constable, Watch, and Sir Davy. Scene shuts, Sir Jolly comes forward. Const. 
This way, this way, Gentlemen, stay one of ye at the door, and let no body pass, do you hear? Sir jolly, your servant.  Sir jol. 
What this outrage, this disturbance committed upon my House and Family; Sir, Sir, Sir▪ What do you mean by these doings sweet Sir? hah!—  Const. 
Sir having received information that the body of a murdered Man is concealed in your House, I am come, according to my duty, to make search and discover the truth,— stand to my assistance, Gentlem●n.  Sir jol. 
A murdered man, Sir▪  Sir Da. 
Yes a murdered Man Sir, Sir jolly, Sir jolly, I am sorry to see a person of your Character and Figure in the Parish concerned in Murder I say.  Sir jol. 
Here's a Dog! here's a Rogue for you, here's a Villain, here's a Cuckoldly Son of his Mother, I never knew a Cuckold in my life, that was not a false Rogue in his heart, there are no honest Fellows living but Whoremasters; hark you, Sir, what a Pox do you mean▪ you had best play the fool and spoil all, you had, what's all this for▪  Sir Da. 
When your Worship's come to be hanged you'll find the meaning on't, Sir▪ I say once more, search the House.  Const. 
It shall be done, Sir, come-a-long Friends.  (Exit Constable and Watch. Sir jol. 
Search my House, oh Lord, search my House, what will become of me? I shall lose my reputation with Man and Woman, and no body will ever trust me again: Oh Lord, search my House, all will be discovered do what I can; I'll sing a Song like a dying Swan, and try to give 'em warning.  

Go from the Window, my Love, my Love, my Love,  
Go from the Window, my Dear.  
The Wind and the Rain  
Has brought 'em back again,  
And thou canst have no Lodging here.   
Oh Lord, search my House!  Sir Da. 
Break down that door, I'll have that Door broke open, break down that door, I say.  [Knocking within. Sir jol. 
Very well done, break down my doors! break down my walls, Gentlemen! plunder my House! ravish my Maids! Ah cursed be Cuckolds, Cuckolds, Constables and Cockolds.  Scene draws and discovers Beaugard and Lady Dunce. Beaug. 
Stand off, by heaven the first that comes here comes upon his death.  Sir Da. 
Sir, your humble servant, I am glad to see you are alive again with all my heart; Gentlemen, here's no harm done Gentlemen, here's no body murdered Gentlemen, the Man's alive again Gentlemen, but here's my Wife Gentlemen, and a fine Gentleman with her, Gentlemen and Mr. Constable, I hope you'll bear me witness Mr. Constable.  Sir jol. 
That he's a Cuckold, Mr. Constable.  [Aside Beaug. 
Hark ye, ye Curs, keep off from snapping at my heels, or I shall so feague ye.  Sir jol. 
Get ye gone ye Dogs, ye Rogues, ye night Toads of the Parish Dungeon, disturb my House at these unseasonable hours, get ye out of my doors, get ye gone, or I'll brain ye, Dogs, Rogues, Villains.  [Exeunt Constable and Watch. Beaug▪ 
And next, for you Sir Coxcomb, you see I am not murdered though you paid well for the performance; what think you of bribing my own Man to Butcher me. Enter Fourbin and Bloody-bones. Look ye Sir, he can cut a Throat upon occasion, and here's another dresses a man's heart with Oil and Pepper, better than any Cook in Christendom.  Fourb. 
Will your Worship please to have one for your Breakfast this morning?  Sir Da. 
with all my heart, Sweetheart, any thing in the World faith and troth, ha, ha, ha, this is the purest sport, ha ha ha.  Enter Vermin. Verm. 
Oh, Sir, the most unhappy and most unfortunate news! There has been a Gentleman in Madam Sylvia's Chamber all this night, who just as you went out of doors, carried her away, and whither they are gone, no body knows.  Sir Da. 
With all my heart, I am glad on't Child, I would not care if he had carried away my House and all, Man; unhappy news quotha! poor Fool, he does not know I am a Cuckold, and that any body may make bold with what belongs to me, ha, ha, ha; I am so pleased, ha, ha, ha. I think I was never so pleased in all my life before, ha, ha, ha.  Beaug. 
Nay, Sir, I have a hanck upon you, there are Laws for Cutthroats, Sir, and as you tender your future credit, take this wronged Lady home, and use her handsomely, use her like my Mistress, Sir, do you mark me, that when we think fit to meet again, I hear no complaint of you, this must be done Friend.  Sir jol. 
In troth, and it is but reasonable, very reasonable in troth.  Lady D. 
Can you, my Dear, forgive me one misfortune.  Sir Da. 
Madam, in one word, I am thy Ladyships most humble Servant and Cuckold, Sir Davy Dunce Kt. Living in Covent-Garden, ha, ha, ha, well this is mighty pretty, ha, ha, ha.  Enter Sylvia followed by Courtine. Sylu. 
Sir jolly, ah, Sir jolly, protect me or I'm ruined.  Sir jol. 
My little Minikin, is it thy squeak?  Beaug. 
My dear Courtine, welcome.  Sir jol. 
Well Child, and what would that wicked Fellow do to thee Child? hah Child, Child, what would he do to thee?  Sylu. 
Oh, Sir, he has most inhumanely seduced me out of my Uncle's House, and threatens to marry me.  Court. 
Nay, Sir, and she having no more Grace before her eyes neither, has e'en taken me at my word.  Sir jol. 
In troth, and that's very uncivilly done▪ I done't like these Marriages, I'll have no Marriages in my House, and there's an end on't.  Sir Da. 
And do you intent to marry my Niece, Friend?  Court. 
Yes, Sir, and never ask your consent neither.  Sir Da. 
In troth, and that's very well said, I am glad on't with all my heart, Man, because she has five thousand pound to her Portion, and my Estate's bound to pay it; well, this is the happiest day, ha, ha, ha.  
Here, take thy Bride, like Man and Wife agree,  
And may she prove as true— as mine to me.  
Ha, ha, ha.  Beaug. 
Courtine, I wish thee Joy, thou art come opportunely to be a Witness of a perfect Reconcilement between me and that worthy Knight, Sir Davy Dunce, which to preserve inviolate, you must, Sir, before we part enter into such Covenants for performance as I shall think sit.  Sir Da. 
No more to be said, it shall be done Sweetheart, but don't be too hard upon me, use me Gently as thou didst my Wife, Gently, ha, ha, ha; a very good Jest, I 'faith, ha, ha, ha, or if he should be cruel to me, Gentlemen, and take this advantage over a poor Cornuto, to lay me in a Prison, or throw me in a Dungeon, at least  

I hope Amongst all you, Sirs, I shan't fail  
To find one Brother-Cuckold out for Bail.    

Epilogue.  
WIth the discharge of Passions much oppressed,  
Disturbed in Brain, and pensive in his Breast,  
Full of those thoughts which make th' unhappy sad,  
And by Imagination half grown mad,  
The Poet led abroad his Mourning Muse,  
And let her range, to see what sport she'd choose,  
Straight like a Bird got loose, and on the Wing,  
Pleased with her freedom, she began to Sing;  
Each Note was Echoed all the Vale along▪  
And this was what she uttered in her Song.  
Wretch, write no more for an uncertain fame,  
Nor call thy Muse, when thou art dull, to blame:  
Consider with thyself how thouart Unfit  
To make that Monster of Mankind, a Wit:  
A Wit's a Toad, who swelled with silly pride,  
Full of himself, scorns all the World beside;  
Civil would seem, though he good manners lacks.  
Smiles on all faces, rails behind all backs:  
If e'er good natured, nought to Ridicule,  
Good nature melts a Wit into a Fool;  
Placed high, like some jack-pudding in a Hall  
At Christmas Revels he makes sport for all.  
So much in little praises he delights,  
But when he's angry draws his Pen and Writes:  
A Wit to no man will his dues allow,  
Wits will not part with a good Word that's due:  
So who e'er Ventures on the Ragged Coast  
Of starving Poets, certainly is lost,  
They rail like Porters at the Penny-Post.  
At a new Author's Play see one but sit  
Making his snarling froward face of Wit,  
The Merit he allows, and Praise he grants,  
Comes like a Tax from a poor Wretch that wants.  
O Poets, have a care of one another,  
There's hardly one amongst ye true to tother:  
Like Trincalo's and Stephano's ye Play,  
The lewdest tricks each other to betray.  
Like Foes detract, yet flattering friendlike smile,  
And all is one another to beguile  
Of Praise, the Monster of your Barren Isle:  
Enjoy the prostitute ye so admire  
Enjoy her to the full of your desire,  
Whilst this poor Sribler wishes to retire,  
Where he may ne'er repeat his Follies more,  
But Curse the Fate that wracked him on your Shore.  
Now you, who this day as his judges sit,  
After you've heard what he has said of Wit,  
Ought for your own sakes not to be severe  
But show so much to think he meant none here.  
FINIS.