Love in a Wood, OR, St James' Park. A. COMEDY, As it is Acted at the Theatre Royal, by his Majesty's Servants.  
Written by Mr WYCHERLEY.  — Excludit sanos helicone poetas Democritus;— Horat. 
LONDON, Printed by J. M. for H. Herringman, at the Sign of the Blue Anchor, in the Lower-Walk of the New Exchange. 1672.   

 
Academiae Cantabrigiensis 〈◊〉   

TO HER GRACE THE Duchess OF CLEAULAND.  
MADAM,  
ALL Authors whatever in their Dedications are Poets; but I am now to Write to a Lady, who stands as little in need of Flattery, as her Beauty of Art; otherwise, I should prove as ill a Poet to her in my Dedication, as to my Reader in my Play: I can do your Grace no Honour, nor make you more admirers than you have already; yet I can do myself the honour to let the world know, I am the greatest you have; you will pardon me, Madam, for you know, 'tis very hard for a new Author, and Poet too, to govern his Ambition; for Poets, let them pass in the world never so much, for modest, honest men, but begin praise to others, which concludes in themselves; and are like Rooks, who lend people money, but to win it back again, and so leave them in debt to 'em for nothing; they offer Laurel and Incense to their Hero's, but wear it themselves, and perfume themselves. This is true, Madam, upon the honest word of an Author, who never yet writ Dedication; yet though I cannot lie like them, I am as vain as they, and cannot but publicly give your Grace my humble acknowledgements for the favours I have received from you: This, I say, is the Poet's Gratitude, which in plain English, is only Pride and Ambition; and that the world might know your Grace did me the honour to see my Play twice together; yet perhaps my Enviers of your Favour will suggest 'twas in Lent, and therefore for your Mortification; then, as a jealous Author, I am concerned not to have your Grace's Favours lessened, or rather, my reputation; and to let them know, you were pleased, after that, to command a Copy from me of this Play; the way without Beauty and Wit, to win a poor Poet's heart. 'Tis a sign your Grace understands nothing better, then obliging all the world, after the best and most proper manner; But, Madam, to be obliging to that excess as you are, (pardon me, if I tell you, out of my extreme concern, and service for your Grace) is a dangerous quality, and may be very incommode to you; for Civility makes Poets as troublesome, as Charity makes Beggars; and your Grace will be hereafter as much pestered with such scurvy Offerings as this, Poems, Panegyrics, and the like, as you are now with Petitions: And, Madam, take it from me, no man with Papers in's hand, is more dreadful than a Poet, no, not a Lawyer with his Declarations; Your Grace sure did not well consider what you did, in sending for my Play; you little thought I would have had the confidence to send you a Dedication too: But, Madam, you find I am as unreasonable, and have as little conscience, as if I had driven the Poetic trade longer than I have, and ne'er consider you had enough of the Play; but (having suffered now so severely) I beseech your Grace, have a care for the future, take my Counsel, and be (if you can possible) as proud, and ill-natured, as other people of Quality, since your quiet is so much concerned, and since you have more reason than any to value yourself; for you have that perfection of Beauty (without thinking it so) which others of your Sex, but think they have; that Generosity in your Actions, which others of your quality, have only in their Promises; that Spirit, Wit, and Judgement, and all other qualifications, which fit Hero's to command, and would make any but your Grace proud. I begin now elevated by my Subject, to write with the Emotion and Fury of a Poet; yet the integrity of an Historian; and I could never be weary, nay, sure this were my only way, to make my Readers never weary too, though they were a more impatient Generation of people than they are. In Fine, speaking thus of your Grace, I should please all the world but you; therefore I must once observe, and obey you▪ against my will, and say no more, then that I am,  
MADAM, Your Grace's Most obliged, and most humble Servant, WILLIAM WYCHERLEY.   

Prologue.  
CVstom, which bids the Thief from Cart Harangue,  
All those that come to make, and see him hang,  
will the damned Poet (though he knows he's gone)  
To greet you, ere his Execution.  
Not having fear of Critic 'fore his eyes,  
But still rejecting, wholesome, good advice;  
He e'en is come to suffer here to day,  
For counterfeiting (as you judge) a Play,  
Which is against dread Phoebus' highest treason,  
Damned damning Judges, therefore you have reason;  
You he does mean, who for the self same fault,  
That damning Privilege of yours have bought;  
So the huge Bankers when they needs must fail,  
Send the small Brothers of their trade to Goal;  
Whilst they by breaking Gentlemen, are made,  
Then more than any scorn, poor men o'th' trade;  
You hardened Renegado Poets, who  
Treat Rhyming Brother, worse than Turk would do;  
But vent your Heathenish rage, hang, draw, and quarter,  
His Muse will die to day a fleering Martyr;  
Since for balled Jest, dull Libel, or Lampoon,  
There are who suffer persecution,  
With the undaunted briskness of Buffoon,  
And strict Professors live of Raillery,  
Defying Porter's Lodge, or Pillory:  
For those who yet write on our Poet's fate,  
Should as Co-sufferers commiserate;  
But he in vain their pity now would crave,  
Who for themselves (alas) no pity have,  
And their own gasping credit will not save;  
And those, much less, our Criminal would spare,  
Who ne'er in Rhyme transgress, (if such there are)  
Well then, who nothing hopes, needs nothing fear;  
And he, before your cruel Votes shall do it,  
By his despair, declares himself no Poet.   

The Persons.  
Mr. Hart. 
Mr. Ranger, Young Gentlemen of the Town.  Mr. Bell. 
Mr. Vincent, Young Gentlemen of the Town.  Mr. Kinnaston. 
Mr. Valentine, Young Gentlemen of the Town.  Mr. Lacy. 
Alderman Gripe, seemingly precise, but a covetous, lecherous, old Usurer of the City.  Mr. Wintersell. 
Sir Simon Addleplot, a Coxcomb, always in pursuit of Women of great Fortunes.  Mr. Mohun. 
Mr. Dapperwit, a brisk conceited, half-witted fellow of the Town.  Mrs. Boutell. 
Christina, Valentine's Mistress.  Mrs. Betty Cox. 
Lydia, Rangers Mistress.  Mrs. Knepp. 
My Lady Flippant, Grip's Sister, an affected Widow, in distress for a Husband, though still declaiming against marriage.  Mrs. Farlowe. 
Mrs. Martha, Gripe's Daughter.  Mrs. Cory. 
Mrs. joiner, a Matchmaker, or precise City Bawd.  Mrs. Rutter. 
Mrs. Crossbite, an old cheating Jilt, and Bawd to her Daughter.  Mrs. Betty Slade. 
Miss Lucy, her Daughter.  Mrs. James. 
Isabel, Christina's Woman  Mrs. Gartreight. 
Leonore, Servant to Lydia.   
Crossbites Landlord, and his Prentices, Servants, Waiters, and other Attendants.  
The Scene London.   

ERRATA.  
PAge 3. line 11. for a woman, read of a Woman, p. 4. l. 3. for he is hear, r. Is he here? p. 14. l. 9 for his Jilt, r. this ●ilt. p. 23. l. 2. for lead 'em, r. lead her, p. 25. l. 9 for he, r. she, p. 36. l. 20. r. for Ran. He Whispers, r. Ran. five doors off on the right hand, p. 40. l. 23. for in the Playhouse, r. into the Playhouse, p. 40. ●. 27. for sick of envy, r. sick with envy, p. 52. l. 1. for Gripe getting a Chair, r. Gripe setting a Chair, p. 84. l. 1. for ruminate in them, r. ruminate on them.   

Love in a Wood, OR, St James' Park.  

ACT. I.  

SCENE. I. Gripes House in the Evening.  Enter My Lady Flippant, Mrs. joiner. Flip. 
NOT a Husband to be had for money.  
Come, come, I might have been a better Housewife for myself (as the World goes now,) if I had dealt for an Heir with his Guardian, Uncle, or Mother-in-Law; and you are no better than a Chouse, a Cheat.  Joyn. 
I a Cheat Madam.  Flip. 
I am out of my Money, and my Patience too.  Joyn. 
Do not run out of your patience whatever you do,  
'Tis a necessary virtue for a Widow without  
A Jointure in truly.  Flip. 
Vile Woman, though my Fortune be something  
Wasted, my Person's in good repair;  
If I had not depended on you, I had had a Husband  
Before this time; when I gave you the last five pound,  
Did not you promise I should be Married by Christmas.  Joyn. 
And had kept my promise if you had Cooperated.  Flip. 
Cooperated, what should I have done?  
'tis well known no Woman breathing could use more  
Industry to get her a Husband than I have;  
Has not my Husband's Scutcheon walked as much ground  
As the Citizen's Signs since the Fire,  
That no quarter of the Town might be ignorant  
Of the Widow Flippant,  Joyn. 
'Tis well known Madam indeed.  Flip. 
Have I not owned myself (against my Stomach) the relict of a Citizen to credit my Fortune?  Joyn. 
'Tis confessed Madam.  Flip. 
Have I not constantly kept Covent-Garden-Church, St. martin's, the Playhouses, Hyde-park, Mulbery-Garden, and all other the public Marts where Widows and Maids are exposed?  Joyn. 
Far be it from me to think you have an Aversion to a Husband;  
But why Madam have you refused so many good Offers?  Flip· 
Good Offers Mrs. joiner, I'll be sworn I never had an Offer since my late Husbands; if I had had an Offer Mrs. joiner; there's the thing Mrs. joiner.  Joyn. 
Then your frequent, and public detestation of Marriage, is thought real;  
And if you have had no Offer, there's the thing Madam.  Flip. 
I cannot deny, but I always rail against Marriage  
Which is the Widow's way to it certainly.  Joyn. 
'Tis the desperate way, of the desperate Widows, in truly.  Flip. 
Would you have us as tractable as the Wenches that eat Oatmeal; and fooled like them too.  Joyn. 
If no body were wiser than I, I should think, since the Widow wants the natural allurement which the Virgin has, you ought to give men all other encouragements in truly.  Flip. 
Therefore on the contrary, because the Widow's Fortune (whether supposed, or real) is her chiefest Bait, the more chary she seems of it, and the more she withdraws it, the more eagerly the busy gaping fry will bite: with us Widows Husbands are got like Bishoprics, by saying no; and I tell you, a young Heir is as shy of a Widow, as of a Rook, to my knowledge.  Joyn. 
I can allege nothing against your practice,  
But your ill success; and indeed you must use  
Another Method with Sir Simon Addleplot.  Flip. 
Will he be at your House at the hour?  Joyn. 
He'll be there by ten, 'tis now nine,  
I warrant you he will not fail.  Flip. 
I'll warrant you then I will not fail,  
For 'tis more than time I were sped  Joyn. 
Mr. Dapperwit has not been too busy with you, I hope your experience has taught you to prevent a mischance.  Flip. 
No, no, my mischance (as you call it) is greater than that; I have but three Months to reckon, ere I lie down with my Port and Equipage; and must be delivered a Woman, a Footman, and a Coachman. For my Coach must down, unless I can get Sir Simon to draw with me.  Joyn. 
He will payr with you exactly if you knew all.  Aside. Flip. 
Ah Mrs. joiner, nothing grieves me like putting down my Coach; for the fine clothes, the fine Lodgings; let 'em go; for a Lodging is as unnecessary a thing to a Widow that has a Coach, as a Hat to a Man that has a good Peruque, for as you see about Town she is most properly at home in her Coach, she eats, and drinks, and sleeps in her Coach; and for her Visits she receives them in the Playhouse.  Join, 
Ay, ay, let the Men keep Lodgings  
(As you say Madam) if they will.  Gripe and Sir Simon Addleplot following him as his Man in the Habit of a Clerk at one door, and Mrs. Martha at the other. Flip. 
Do you think if things had been with me as they have been, I would ever have housed with this counter fashion Brother of mine, (who hates a Vest as much as a Surplice) to have my Patches assaulted every day; at Dinner my Freedom sensured, and my Visitants shut out of Doors; poor Mr. Dapperwit cannot be admitted.  Joyn. 
He knows him too well to keep his Acquaintance.  Flip. 
He is a censorious ridged Fop, and knows nothing.  Gripe. 
So, so— Behind.  Joyn. 
He is hear. Aside.  
To my Lady Flip. Nay with your pardon Madam, I must contradict you there. He is a prying Commonwealths-man, an implacable Magistrate, a sturdy pillar of his cause, and—  
But oh me is your Worship so near then? if I had To Gripe. Thought you had heard me—  Gripe. 
Why, why Mrs. joiner,  
I have said as much of myself e'er now,  
And without vanity I profess.  Joyn. 
I know your Virtue is proof against Vainglory;  
But the truth to your face, looks like flattery in your Worship's servant.  Gripe. 
No, no, say what you will of me in that kind,  
Far be it from me to suspect you of flattery.  Joyn. 
In truly your Worship knows yourself,  
And knows me, for I am none of those—  Flip. 
Now they are in— Aside.  
Mrs. joiner I'll go before to your House,  
You'll be sure to come after me. Exit Flippant.  Joyn. 
Immediately; but as I was saying,  
I am none of those—  Gripe. 
No Mrs. joiner, you cannot sew Pillows,  
Under Folks elbows; you cannot hold a Candle to the Devil; you cannot tickle a Trout to take him, you—  Joyn. 
Lord how well you do know me indeed;  
And you shall see I know your Worship as well,  
You cannot backslide from your Principles;  
You cannot be terrified by the laws;  
Nor bribed to Allegiance by Office or Preferment;  
You—  Gripe. 
Hold, hold, my praise must not interrupt yours.  Joyn. 
With your Worship's pardon, (In truly) I must on.  Gripe, 
I am full of your praise, and it will run over.  Joyn. 
Nay sweet Sir, you are—  Gripe. 
Nay sweet Mrs. joiner, you are—  Joyn. 
Nay good your Worship, you are Stops her mouth with his Handkerchief.  Gripe. 
I say you are—  Joyn. 
I must not be rude with your Worship.  Gripe. 
You are a Nursing mother to the Saints;  
Through you they gather together;  
Through you they fructify and increase; and through you  
The Child cries from out of the Hand-Basket.  Joyn. 
Through you Virgins are married or provided  
For as well; through you the Reprobates Wife  
Is made a Saint; and through you the Widow is not  
Disconsolate, nor misses her Husband.  Gripe. 
Through you—  Joyn. 
Indeed you will put me to the blush  Gripe. 
Blushes are badges of Imperfection,  
Saints have no shame: You are the flower of Matrons Mrs. joiner.  Joyn. 
You are the Pink of courteous Aldermen.  Gripe, 
You are the Muffler of Secrecy  Joyn. 
You are the Head-band of Justice.  Gripe. 
Thank you sweet Mrs. joiner, do you think  
So indeed? you are—  
You are the Bonfire of Devotion.  Joyn. 
You are the Bellows of Zeal.  Gripe. 
You are the Cupboard of Charity.  Joyn. 
You are the Fob of Liberality,  Gripe. 
You are the Rivet of sanctified Love or Wedlock.  Joyn. 
You are the Picklock and Darklanthorn of Policy;  
And in a word, a Conventicle of Virtues.  Gripe. 
Your Servant, your servant sweet Mrs. joiner,  
You have stopped my mouth.  Joyn. 
Your Servant, your servant sweet Alderman,  
I have nothing to say.  Sir Simon. 
The half Pullet will be cold Sir.  Gripe. 
Mrs. joiner you shall Sup with me.  Joyn. 
Indeed I am engaged to Supper with some  
Of your man's Friends; and I came on purpose.  
To get leave for him too.  Gripe. 
I cannot deny you any thing; but I have forgot to tell you what a kind of Fellow my Sisters Dapperwit is; before a full Table of the Coffee-house sages he had the impudence to hold an Argument against me in the defence of Vests and Protections; and therefore I forbid him my house; besides when he came, I was forced to lock up my Daughter for fear of him, nay, I think the poor Child herself was afraid of him: come hither Child, were you not afraid of Dapperwit?  Martha. 
Yes indeed, Sir, he is a terrible man.  
Yet I durst meet with him in the Piazzo at midnight. Aside.  Gripe. 
He shall never come into my doors again.  March. 
Shall Mr. Dapperwit never come hither again then?  Gripe. 
No, Child.  March. 
I am afraid he will.  Gripe. 
I warrant thee.  March. 
I warrant you then I'll go to him. Aside.  
I am glad of that, for I hate him as much as a Bishop.  Gripe. 
Thou art no Child of mine, if thou dost not hate Bishops and Wits: Well, Mrs. joiner, I'll keep you no longer. Ionas, wait on Mrs. joiner.  Joyn. 
Good night to your Worship.  Gripe. 
But stay, stay Mrs. joiner, have you spoken with the Widow Crossbite about her little Daughter, as I desired.  Joyn. 
I will to morrow early, it shall be the first thing I'll do after my Prayers.  Gripe. 
If Dapperwit should contaminate her; I cannot rest till I have redeemed her from the Jaws of that Lion, good night.  Joyn. 
Good Gentleman. Exeunt Gripe and Martha.  Manent Sir. Simon Addleplot and Joiner. Sir Sim. 
Ha, hah, ha, Mrs joiner.  Joyn. 
What's the matter, Sir Simon?  Sir Sim. 
Ha, hah, ha— let us make haste to your House, or I shall burst, faith and troth to see what Fools you and I make of these people.  Joyn. 
I will not rob you of any of the credit, I am but a feeble Instrument, you are the Engeneer.  Sir Sim. 
Remember what you say now when things succeed, and do not tell me then, I must thank your wit for all.  Joyn. 
No in truly, Sir Simon.  Sir Sim. 
Nay I'm sure Dapperwit and I have been partners in many an Intrigue, and he uses to serve me so.  Joyn. 
He is an ill man to intrigue with, as you call it.  Sir Sim. 
ay, so are all your Wits; a pox, if a man's understanding be not so public as theirs, he cannot do a wise action but they go away with the honour of it, if he be of their acquaintance.  Joyn. 
Why do you keep such Acquaintance then?  Sir Sim. 
There is a Proverb, Mrs. joiner, You may know him by his Company.  Joyn. 
No, no, to be thought a man of parts, you should always keep Company with a man of less wit than yourself.  Sir Sim. 
That's the hardest thing in the world for me to do, saith and troth.  Joyn. 
What, to find a man of less wit than yourself?  
Pardon my Raillery, Sir Simon.  Sir Sim. 
No, no, I cannot keep Company with a Fool, I wonder how men of parts can do't, there's something in't.  Joyn. 
If you could all your wise actions would be your own, and your money would be your own too.  Sir Sim. 
Nay, faith and troth that's true; for your Wits are plaguely given to borrow; they'll borrow of their Wench, Coachman, or Linkboy their hire. Mrs. joiner, Dapperwit has that trick with a vengeance.  Joyn. 
Why will you keep Company with him then, I say? for to be plain with you, you have followed him so long, that you are thought but his Culley; for every Wit has his Culley, as every Squire his lead Captain.  Sir Sim. 
I his Culley? I his Culley Mrs. joiner!  
Lord that I should be thought a Culley to any Wit breathing.  Joyn. 
Nay do not take it so to heart, for the best Wits  
Of the Town, are but Culleys themselves.  Sir Simon. 
To whom, to whom, to whom, Mrs. joiner.  Joyn. 
To Sem'steresses, and Bawds.  Sir Sim. 
To your knowledge, Mrs. joiner.  
There I was with her.  Joyn. 
To Tailors and Vintners, but especially to the French Houses.  Sir Sim. 
But Dapperwit is a Culley to none of them for he ticks.  Joyn. 
I care not; but I wish you were a Culley to none but me, that's all the hurt I wish you,  Sir Sim. 
Thank you Mrs. joiner; well I will throw off Dapperwits' acquaintance when I am married, and will only be a Culley to my Wife, and that's no more than the wisest Husband of 'em all is.  Joyn. 
Then you think you shall carry Mrs. Martha?  Sir Sim. 
Your hundred Guineas are  
As good as in your Lap.  Joyn. 
But I am afraid this double plot of yours  
Should fail, you would sooner succeed,  
If you only designed upon Mrs. Martha,  
Or only upon my Lady Flippant.  Sir Sim. 
Nay then you are no Woman of Intrigue, faith and troth 'tis good to have two strings to one Bow; if Mrs. Martha be coy; I tell the Widow I put on my disguise for her; But if Mrs. Martha be kind to Ionas, Sir Simon Addleplot will be false to the Widow, which is no more than Widows are used to, for a promise to a Widow is as seldom kept as a Vow made at Sea, as Dapperwit says.  Joyn. 
I am afraid they should discover you  Sir Sim. 
You have nothing to fear, you have your twenty Guineas in your pocket for helping me into my Service, and if I get into Mrs. Martha's quarters you have a hundred more, if into the Widows fifty, happy go luckey, will her Ladyship be at your house at the hour.  Joyn. 
Yes.  Sir Sim. 
Then you shall see when I am Sir Simon Addleplot and myself, I'll look like myself, now I am Ionas I look like an Ass; you never thought Sir Simon Addleplot could have looked so like an Ass by his ingenuity.  Joyn. 
Pardon me Sir Simon.  Sir Sim. 
Nay do not flatter faith and troth.  Joyn. 
Come let us go 'tis time.  Sir Sim. 
I will carry the Widow to the French house.  Joyn. 
If she will go.  Sir Sim. 
If she will go; why, did you ever know a Widow refuse a treat? no more than a Lawyer a Fee faith and troth; yet I know too.  
No treat, sweet words, good mien, but sly Intrigue  
That must at length, the jilting Widow fegue. Exeunt.  The scene changes to the French House, a Table, Wine, and Candles. Enter Vincent, Ranger, Dapperwit. Dap. 
Pray, Mr. Ranger, let's have no drinking to night.  Vin. 
Pray, Mr. Ranger, let's have no Dapperwit to night.  Rang. 
Nay, nay, Vincent.  Vin. 
A pox, I hate his impertinent Chat more than he does the honest Burgundy.  Dap. 
But why should you force Wine upon us? we are not all of your gusto.  Vin. 
But why should you force your chawed jests, your damned ends of your mouldy Lampoones, and last years' Sonnets upon us, we are not all of your gusto?  Dap. 
The Wine makes me sick, let me perish.  Vin. 
Thy Rhymes make me spew.  Ran. 
At Reparty already, come Vincent, I know you would giveth him the Glass. rather have him pledge you here Dapperwit; but why are you so eager to have him drink always.  Vin. 
Because he is so eager to talk always, and there is no other way to silence him.  Waiter to them. Wait. 
Here is a Gentleman desires to speak with Mr. Vincent.  Vin. 
I come. Exit Vin.  Dap. 
He may drink because he is obliged to the Bottle, for all the wit and courage he has, 'tis not free and natural like yours.  Ran. 
He has more courage than wit, but wants neither.  Dap. 
As a Pump gone dry, if you power no Water down you will get none out, so—  Ran. 
Nay I bar similes too, to night.  Dap. 
Why is not the thought new, don't you apprehend it.  Ran. 
Yes, yes, but—  Dap. 
Well, well, will you comply with his sottishness too, and hate brisk things in complaisance to the ignorant dull age? I believe shortly 'twill be as hard to find a patient friend to communicate one's wit to, as a faithful friend to communicate one's secret to. Wit has a few true Judges as painting I see.  Ran. 
All people pretend to be judges of both.  Dap. 
I they pretend— but set you aside,  
And two more.—  Ran. 
But why has Vincent neither courage nor wit.  Dap. 
He has no courage because he beat his Wench for giving me les douces yeux once; and no wit because he does not comprehend my thoughts; and he is a Son of a Whore for his ignorance; I take ignorance worse from any man then the Lie, because it is as much as to say I am no Wit.. Vincent Returns. You need not take any notice, though, to him of what I say.  Vin. 
Ranger there is a Woman below, in a Coach would speak with you.  Ran. 
With me. Exit Ran.  Dap. 
This Ranger, Mr. Vincent, is as false to his Friend as his Wench.  Vin. 
You have no reason to say so,  
But because he is absent.  Dap. 
'Tis disobliging to tell a Man of his faults to his face, if he had but your grave parts, and manly wit, I should adore him; but a pox he is a mere Buffoon, a Jack-pudding let me perish.  Vin. 
You are an ungrateful fellow, I have heard him maintain you had wit, which was more than ere you could do for yourself; I thought you had owned him your Maecenas.  Dap. 
A pox he cannot but esteem me, 'tis for his honour; but I cannot but be just for all that, without favour or affection, yet I confess I love him so well, that I wish he had but the hundredth part of your courage.  Vin. 
He has had the courage to save you from many a beating to my knowledge.  Dap, 
Come, come, I wish the man well, and next to you, better than any man, and I am sorry to say it, he has not a courage to snuff a Candle with his fingers; when he is drunk indeed, he dares get a Clap, or so— and swear at a Constable.  Vin. 
Detracting Fop, when did you see him desert his Friend.  Dap. 
You have a rough kind of Raillery Mr. Vincent, but since you will have it, (though I love the man heartily, I say) he deserted me once in breaking of Windows, for fear of the Constable, Ranger Returns. but you need not take notice to him, of what I tell you; I hate to put a man to the blush.  Ran. 
I have had just now a visit from my Mistress, who is as jealous of me, as a Wife of her Husband when she lies in; My x Lydia, you have heard me speak of her.  Vin. 
But she is more troublesome than a Wife that lies in, because she follows you to your haunts; why do you allow her that privilege before her time?  Ran. 
Faith, I may allow her any privilege and be to hard for her yet; how do you think I have cheated her to night? Women are poor credulous Creatures, easily deceived.  Vin. 
We are poor credulous Creatures, when we think 'em so.  Ran. 
Intending a Ramble to St. James' Park to night, upon some probable hopes of some fresh Game I have in chase, I appointed her to stay at home, with a promise to come to her within this hour, that she might not foil the scent and prevent my sport.  Vin. 
She'll be even with you when you are married I warrant you: in the mean time here's her health Dapperwit.  Ran. 
Now had he rather be at the window writing her Anagram in the Glass with his Diamond, or biting his nails in the corner, for a fine thought, to come and divert us with at the Table.  Dap. 
No a pox I have no wit to night, I am as barren and hidebound as one of your damned scribbling Poets, who are sots in company for all their wit, as a Miser poor for all his money; how do you like the thought.  Vin. 
Drink, drink.  Dap. 
Well I can drink this, because I shall be repreived presently.  Vin. 
Who will be so civil to us.  Dap. 
Sir Simon Addleplot, I have bespoke him a Supper here, for he treats to night a new rich Mistress.  Ran. 
That Spark who has his fruitless designs upon the bedridden rich Widow, down to the sucking Heiresses in her pissing clout; He was once the sport, but now the public grievance of all the fortunes in Town; for he watches them like a younger Brother that is afraid to be mumped of his snip, and they cannot steal a Marriage, nor stay their stomachs, but he must know it.  Dap. 
He has now pitched his Nets for Gripe's Daughter the rich Scrivener, and serves him as a Clerk to get admission to her, which the watchful Fop her Father, denies to all others.  Ran. 
I thought you had been nibbling at her once, under pretence of love to her Aunt.  Dap. 
I confess I have the same design yet, and Addleplot is but my Agent whilst he thinks me his; he brings me Letters constantly from her, and carries mine back.  Vin. 
Still betraying your best friends.  Dap. 
I cannot in honour but betray him (let me perish,) the poor young Wench is taken with my person, and would scratch through fowr walls to come to me.  Vin. 
'Tis a sign she is kept up close indeed.  Dap. 
Betray him, I'll not be a Traitor to Love for any man.  Sir Simon Addleplot to them with the Waiter. Sir Sim. 
Know 'em, you are a saucy Jack-straw to question me, (faith and troth) I know every body, and every body knows me.  All. 
Sir Simon, Sir Simon, Sir Simon.  Ran. 
And you are a welcome man to every body.  Sir Sim, 
Now son of a Whore, do I know the Gentlemen? a dog, he would have had a shilling of me before he would let me come to you.  Ran. 
The Rogue has been bred at Court sure;  
Get you out Sirrah.  Sir Sim. 
He has been bred at a French house, where they are more unreasonable.  Vin. 
Here's to you Sir Simon.  Sir Sim. 
I cannot drink, for I have a Mistress within, though I would not have the people of the house to know it.  Ran. 
You need not be ashamed of your Mistresses, for they are commonly rich.  Sir Sim. 
And because she is rich, I would conceal her, for I never had a rich Mistress yet, but one or other got her from me presently faith and troth.  Ran. 
But this is an ill place to conceal a Mistress in, every Waiter is an Intelligencer to your Rivals.  Sir Sim. 
I have ' trick for that, I let no Waiters come into the Room, I'll lay the Cloth myself rather.  Ran. 
But who is your Mistress.  Sir Sim. 
Your Servant,— your Servant,— Mr. Ranger.  Vin. 
Come will you pledge me?  Sir Sim. 
No, I'll spare your Wine, if you will spare me Dapperwits' company, I came for that.  Vin. 
You do us a double favour, to take him and leave the Wine.  Sir Sim. 
Come, come Dapperwit.  Ran. 
Do not go unless he will suffer us to see his Mistress too.  Aside. Sir Sim. 
Come, come man.  Dap. 
Would you have me so incivil as to leave my company; they'll take it ill?  Sir Sim. 
I cannot find her talk without thee; pray Gentlemen persuade Mr. Dapperwit to go with me.  Ran. 
We will not hinder him of better company.  Dap. 
Yours is too good to be left rudely.  Sir Sim. 
Nay Gentlemen I would desire your company too, if you knew the Lady.  Dap. 
They know her as well as I, you say I know her not.  Sir Sim. 
You are not every body. Aside.  Ran. 
Perhaps we do know the Lady Sir Simon.  Sir Sim. 
You do not, you do not, none of you ever saw her in your lives; but if you could be secret, and civil.—  Ran. 
We have drunk yet but our Bottles a piece.  Sir Sim. 
But will you be civil Mr. Vincent?  Ran. 
He dares not look a Woman in the face under three Bottles.  Sir Sim. 
Come along then, but can you be civil Gentlemen? will you be civil Gentlemen? pray be civil if you can, and you shall see her. Exit Sir Sim.  Returns with my Lady Flippant and Mrs. joiner Dap. 
How has he got his Jilt here? Aside.  Ran. 
The widow Flippant!— Aside.  Vin. 
Is this the Woman we never saw. Aside.  Flip. 
Does he bring us into company, and Dapperwit one? though I had married the Fool, I thought to have reserved the Wit as well as other Ladies. Aside.  Sir Sim. 
Nay, look as long as you will Madam, you will find them civil Gentlemen and good Company.  Flip. 
I am not in doubt of their civility but yours,  Joyn. 
You'll never leave snubbing your Servants, did you not promise to use him kindly. Behind.  Flip. 
'Tis true. Aside.  
We wanted no good company, Sir Simon, as long as we had yours.  Sir Sim. 
But they wanted good company, therefore I forced them to accept of yours.  Flip. 
They will not think the Company good they were forced into certainly.  Sir Sim. 
A pox I must be using the words in fashion though I never have any luck with 'em, Mrs. joiner help me off.  Joyn. 
I suppose, Madam, he means the Gentlemen wanted not inclination to your company, but confidence to desire so great an honour, therefore he forced 'em.  Dap. 
What makes this Bawd here? sure Mistress you Bawds should be like the small Cards, though at first you make up the Pack, yet when the play begins, you should be put out as useless.  Joyn. 
Well, well, jibeing companion, you would have the Pimps kept in only? you would so?  Vin. 
What they are quarrelling?  Ran. 
Pimp and Bawd agree now a days like Doctor an Apothecary.  Sir Sim. 
Try Madam if they are not civil Gentlemen, talk with 'em, while I go lay the cloth no Waiter comes here:  
My Mother used to tell me, I should avoid all occasions of talking before my Mistress, because silence is a sign of love as well as prudence. Aside.  Flip. 
Methinks you look a little yellow on't Sir Simon laying the Cloth. Mr. Dapperwit; I hope you do not censure me because you find me passing away a night with this Fool; he is not a man to be jealous of sure.  Dap. 
You are not a Lady to be jealous of sure.  Flip. 
No certainly, but why do you look as if you were jealous then.  Dap. 
If I had met you in Wheatstones-Park with a drunken Foot-Soldier, I should not have been jealous of you.  Flip. 
Fie, fie, now you are jealous certainly, for people always when they grow jealous, grow rude; but I can pardon it since it proceeds from love certainly.  Dap. 
I am out of all hopes to be rid of this eternal old acquaintance, when I jeer her, she thinks herself praised, now I call her Whore in plain english, she thinks I am jealous Aside.  Flip. 
Sweet Mr. Dapperwit be not so sensorious, I speak for your sake, not my own, for jealousy is a great torment, but my honour cannot suffer certainly.  Dap. 
No certainly, but the greatest torment I have is your Love.  Flip. 
Alas sweet Mr. Dapperwit, indeed Love is a torment, but 'tis a sweet torment; but Jealousy is a bitter torment; I do not go about to cure you of the torment of my love.  Dap. 
'Tis a sign so.  Flip. 
Come, come, look up man, is that a Rival to contest with you?  Dap. 
I will contest with no Rival, not with my old Rival your Coachman, but they have heartily my resignation, and to do you a favour, but myself a greater, I will help tie the knot you are fumbling for now, betwixt your Culley here, and you.  Flip. 
Go, go, I take that kind of jealousy worst of all, to suspect I would be debauched to beastly Matrimony; but who are those Gentlemen pray?— are they men of Fortune's Mrs. joiner.  Joyn. 
I believe so.  Flip. 
Do you believe so indeed; Gentlemen.—  Advancing towards Ranger and Vincent. Ran. 
If the civility we owe to Ladies, had not controlled our envy to Mr. Dapperwit, we had interrupted ere this your private conversation.  Flip. 
Your interruption, Sir, had been most civil, and obliging, for our discourse was of Marriage.  Rang. 
That is a subject Madam, as grateful as common.  Flip. 
O fie, fie, are you of that opinion too? I cannot suffer any to talk of it in my company.  Ran. 
Are you married then Madam?  Flip. 
No certainly.  Ran. 
I am sure so much Beauty cannot despair of it.  Flip. 
Dispair of it—  Ran. 
Only those that are married, or cannot be married, hate to hear of marriage.  Flip. 
Yet you must know, Sir, my aversion to marriage is such, that you nor no man breathing, shall ever persuade me to it.  Ran. 
Cursed be the man should do so rude a thing as to persuade you to any thing against your inclination; I would not do it for the World, Madam.  Flip. 
Come, come, though you seem to be a civil Gentleman, I think you no better than your Neighbours; I do not know a man of you all, that will not thrust a Woman up into a corner, and then talk an hour to her impertinently of marriage.  Ran. 
You would find me another man in a corner, I assure you, Madam, for you should not have a word of marriage from me, whatsoever you might find in my actions of it; I hate talking as much as you.  Flip. 
I hate it extremely.  Ran. 
I am your man then, Madam, for I sinned just the same fault with your Sex as you do with ours; I ne'er could have to do with a Woman in my life, but still she would be impertinently talking of marriage to me.  Flip. 
Observe that, Mrs. joiner. Aside.  Dap. 
Pray Mr. Ranger let's go, I had rather drink with Mr. Vincent, then stay here with you; besides 'tis Park-time.  Ran. 
I come. To Dap.  
Since you are a Lady that hate marriage, I'll do you the service to withdraw the company, for those that hate marriage, hate loss of time.  Flip. 
Will you go then, Sir, but before you go, Sir, pray tell me is your aversion to marriage real?  Ran. 
As real as yours.  Flip. 
If it were no more real than mine. Aside.  Ran. 
Your servant, Madam.  Flip. 
But do you hate marriage certainly? Plucks him back.  Ran. 
Certainly.  Flip. 
Come, I cannot believe it, you dissemble it, only because I pretend it.  Ran. 
Do you but pretend it then, Madam?  Flip. 
I shall discover myself— Aside.  
I mean, because I hold against it, you do the same in complaisance; for I have heard say, cunning men think to bring the coy and untractable women to tameness, as they do some mad people by humouring their frenzies.  Ran. 
I am none of those cunning men, yet have too much wit to entertain the presumption of designing upon you.  Flip. 
'Twere no such presumption neither.  Dap. 
Come away, 's death don't you see your danger?  Ran. 
Those aims are for Sir Simon, good night, Madam.  Flip. 
Will you needs go then? the gentlemen are a going, Sir Simon, will you let 'em.  Sir Sim. 
Nay, Madam, if you cannot keep 'em, how should I?  Flip. 
Stay, Sir, because you hate marriage, I'll sing you a new Song against it.  She Sings. 


A Spouse I do hate,  
For either she's false or she's jealous;  
But give us a Mate,  
Who nothing will ask us, or tell us.   

She stands on no terms,  
Nor chaffers by way of Indenture,  
Her love for your Farms;  
But takes her kind man at a venture.   

If all prove not right,  
Without an Act, Process, or Warning,  
From Wife for a night,  
You may be divorced in the morning.   

When Parents are Slaves,  
Their Bats cannot be any other;  
Great Wits, and great Braves,  
Have always a Punk to their Mother.    Flip. 
Though it be the fashion for women of quality to sing any Song whatever, because the words are not distinguished; yet I should have blushed to have done it now, but for you, Sir.  Ran. 
The Song is edifying, the Voice admirable, and once more, I am your servant, Madam.  Flip. 
What, will you go too, Mr. Dapperwit?  Sir Sim. 
Pray, Mr. Dapperwit, do not you go too,  Dap. 
I am engaged.  Sir Sim. 
Well, if we cannot have their company, we will not have their Room, ours is a private back Room; they have paid their reckoning, let's go thither again.  Flip. 
But pray, sweet Mr. Dapperwit, do not go; keep him Sir Simon?  Sir Sim. 
I cannot keep him. Exeunt Vin. Ran. Dap.  
It is impossible; (the World is so,  
One cannot keep one's Friend, and Mistress too. Ex. Omnes.    

ACT. II.  

SCENE. I. St. James' Park at night.  Enter Ranger, Vincent, Dapperwit. Ran. 
Hung me if I am not pleased extremely with this new fashioned catterwouling, this midnight coursing in the Park.  Vin. 
A man may come after Supper with his three Bottles in his head, reel himself sober, without reproof from his Mother, Aunt, or grave relation.  Ran. 
May bring his bashful Wench, and not have her put out of countenance by the impudent honest women of the Town.  Dap. 
And a man of wit may have the better of the dumb show, of well trimmed Vest, or fair Perruque; no man's now is whitest.  Ran. 
And now no woman's modest, or proud, for her blushes are hid, and the rubies on her lips are died, and all sleepy and glimmering eyes have lost their attraction.  Vin. 
And now a man may carry a Bottle under his arm, instead of his Hat, and no observing spruce Fop will miss the cravat that lies on one's shoulder, or count the pimples on one's face.  Dap. 
And now the brisk reparty ruins the complaisant Cringe, or wise Grimace, something 'twas, we men of virtue always loved the night.  Ran. 
O blessed season.  Vin. 
For good-Fellows.  Ran. 
For Lovers.  Dap. 
And for the Muses.  Ran. 
When I was a Boy I loved the night so well, I had a strong vocation to be a Bellman's Apprentice.  Vin. 
I a Drawer.  Dap. 
And I to attend the Waits of Westminster, let me perish.  Ran. 
But why do we not do the duty of this and such other places, walk, censure, and speak ill of all we meet?  Dap. 
'Tis no fault of mine, let me perish.  Vin. 
Fie, fie, Satirical gentlemen, this is not your time, you cannot distinguish a Friend from a Fop.  Dap. 
No matter, no matter, they will deserve amongst 'em the worst we can say.  Ron. 
Who comes here, Dapperwit?  Dap. 
By the toss of his head, training of his People walking slowly over the Stage. feet, and his elbows playing at bopeep behind his back, it should be my Lord Easy.  Ran. 
And who the woman?  Dap. 
My Lord, what d'ye calls Daughter  
That had a Child by—  Vin. 
Dapperwit, hold your tongue?  Ran. 
How are you concerned?  Vin. 
Her Brother's an honest Fellow, and will drink his Glass.  Ran. 
Prithee, Vincent; Dapperwit did not hinder drinking to night, though he speak against it; why then should you interrupt his sport? now let him talk of any body.  Vin. 
So he will, till you cut his throat.  Ran. 
Why should you in all ocasions thwart him, contemn him, and maliciously look grave at his jests only?  Vin. 
Why does he always rail against my friends then, and my best friend a Beer-glass?  Ran. 
Dapperwit, be your own Advocate, my Game I think is before me there? Exit Ran.  Dap. 
This Ranger, I think has all the ill qualities, of all your Town Fops, leaving his company for a spruce Lord, Or a Wench.  Vin. 
Nay, if you must rail at your own best friends, I may forgive you, railing at mine.  Lydia and my Lady Flippant walking over the Stage Lyd. 
False Ranger, shall I find thee here? Aside.  Vin. 
Those are women, are they not? To Dap.  Dap. 
The least, seems to be my Lucy sure. Aside.  Vin. 
Faith, I think I dare speak to a woman in the dark, let's try.  Dap. 
They are persons of quality of my acquaintance; hold.  Vin. 
Nay, if they are persons of quality of your acquaintance, I may be the bolder with 'em.  The Ladies go off, they follow them; Lydia and Flippant re-enter. Lyd. 
I come hither to make a discovery to night.  Flip. 
Of my love to you certainly; for no body but you could have debauched me to the Park certainly; I would not return another night, if it were to redeem my dear husband from his grave.  Lyd. 
I believe you, but to get another Widow.  Flip. 
Another Husband, another Husband, soh!  Lyd. 
There does not pass a night here, but many a match is made.  Flip. 
That a woman of honour should have the word match in her mouth: but I hope, Madam, the fellows do not make honourable Love here, do they? I abominate honourable Love, upon my Honour.  Lyd. 
If they should make honourable Love here, I know you would prevent 'em. Vincent and Dapperwit Re-enter and walk slowly towards them. But here come two men will inform you what they do.  Flip. 
Do they come? are they men certainly?  Lyd. 
Prepare for an assault, they'll put you to't.  Flip. 
Will they put us to't certainly? I was never put to't yet; if they should put us to't, I should drop down, down certainly.  Lyd. 
I believe, truly, you would not have power to run away.  Flip. 
Therefore I will not stay the push they come, they come, oh the fellows come! Flippant runs away, Lydia follows, and Vincent, and Dapperwit after them. Flippant Reenters at tother door alone. So I am got off clear, I did not run from the men, but my companion, for all their brags, men have hardly courage to set upon us, when our number is equal; now they shall see I defy 'em, for we women have always most courage when we are alone; but a Pox— the lazy Rogues come not, or they are Drunk and cannot run: Oh drink, abominable drink instead of inflaming Love, it quenches it, and for one Lover it incourages, it makes a thousand impotent. Curse on all Wine, even Rhenish-wine and Sugar— Enter Addleplot muffled in a Cloak. But Fortune will not see me want, here comes a single Bully, I wish he may stand;  
For now a-nights the jostling Nymph is bolder,  
Then modern satire with his Cloak o'er shoulder.  
Well met Sir. She puts on her Mask.  Sir Sim. 
How shall I know that, forsooth, who are you? do you know me?  Flip. 
Who are you? done't you know me?  Sir Sim. 
Not I faith and troth.  Flip. 
I am glad on't, for no man e'er liked a woman the better for having known her before.  Sir Sim. 
ay, but than one can't be so free with a new acquaintance, as with an old one; she may deny one the civility.  Flip. 
Not till you ask her.  Sir Sim. 
But I am afraid to be denied.  Flip. 
Let me tell you, Sir, you cannot disoblige us women more, then in distrusting us.  Sir Sim. 
Pish, what should one ask for, when you know on's meaning? but shall I deal freely with you?  Flip. 
I love of my life men should deal freely with me; there are so few men will deal freely with one—  Sir Sim. 
Are you not a Fireship? a Punk, Madam?  Flip. 
Well, Sir, I love Raillery.  Sir Sim. 
Faith and troth I do not railly, I deal freely.  Flip. 
This is the time and place for freedom, Sir.  Sir Sim. 
Are you handsome?  Flip. 
Jone's as good as my Lady in the dark certainly; but men that deal freely, never ask questions certainly.  Sir Sim. 
How then! I thought to deal freely, and put a woman to the question, had been all one.  Flip. 
But let me tell you, those that deal freely indeed, take a woman by—  Sir Sim. 
What, what, what, what?  Flip. 
By the hand and lead 'em aside.  Sir Sim. 
Now I understand you come along then.  Enter Torch's and Music at a distance. Flip. 
What unmannerly Rascals are those that bring light into the Park? 'twill not be taken well from 'em by the women certainly; still disappointed— Aside.  Sir Sim. 
Oh the Fiddles, the Fiddles, I sent for them hither to oblige the women, not offend 'em; for I intent to Serenade the whole Park to night; but my Frolic is not without an intrigue, faith and troth; for I know the Fiddles will call the whole Herd of vizard Masks together; and then shall I discover if a strayed Mistress of mine be not amongst 'em, whom I treated to night at the French-house; but as soon as the Jilt had eat up my meat, and drank her two bottles, she run away from me, and left me alone.  Flip. 
How! is it he! Addleplot, that I could not know him by his faith and troth. Aside.  Sir Sim. 
Now I would understand her tricks, because I intent to Marry her, and should be glad to know what I must trust to.  Flip. 
So thou shalt, but not yet. Aside.  Sir Sim. 
Though I can give a great guess already; for if I have any intrigue on sense in me, she is as arrant a Jilt, as ever pulled pillow from under husband's head (faith and troth) moreover she is bow-legged, hopperhipped, and betwixt Pomatum and Spanish Red, has a Complexion like a Holland Cheese, and no more Teeth left, than such as give a Haust-goust to her breath; but she is rich (faith and troth.)  Flip. 
Oh Rascal! he has heard some body else say all this of me; but I must not discover myself, lest I should be disappointed of my revenge, for I will marry him. Aside.  The Torches and Music approaching. Ex. Flippant. Sir Sim. 
What gone? come then, strike up my lads.  Enter Men and Women in visards, and Dance. Addleplot for the most part standing still in a Cloak and Vizard, but sometimes going about peeping, and examining the womens' clothes; the Dance ended. Exeunt Dancers, Torches, Music, and Addleplot. Enter Flippant, Lydia, after them Vincent, Dapperwit. Flip. 
Nay, if you stay any longer, I must leave you again. To Lydia.  Vin. 
We have over-taken them at last again, Flip. going off. these are they, they separate too, and that's but a challenge to us.  Dap. 
Let me perish Ladies—  Lyd. 
Nay, good Madam, let's unite, now here's the common enemy upon us.  Vin. 
Damn me Ladies—  Dap. 
Hold, a Pox you are to rough, let me perish Ladies.  Lyd. 
Not for want of breath, Gentlemen, we'll stay rather.  Dap. 
For want of your favour, rather sweet Ladies.  Flip. 
That's Dapperwit, false villain; but he must not know I am here; if he should, I should lose his thrice agreeable company, and he would run from me, as fast as from the Bailiffs. What you will not talk with 'em I hope?  Lyd. 
Yes, but I will.  Flip. 
Then you are a Park-woman certainly, and you will take it kindly if I leave you.  Lyd. 
No, you must not leave me. Apart.  Flip. 
Then you must leave them.  Lyd. 
I'll see if they are worse company than you first.  Flip. 
Monstrous impudence, will you not come? Pulls Lydia.  Vin. 
Nay, Madam, I never suffer any violence to be used to a woman, but what I do myself; she must stay, and you must not go.  Flip. 
Unhand me you rude fellow.  Vin. 
Nay, now I am sure you will stay and be kind; for coyness in a woman is as little sign of true modesty, as huffing in a man, is of true courage.  Dap. 
Use her gently, and speak soft things to her.  Lyd. 
Now do I guess I know my Coxcomb. Aside. Sir, I am extremely glad I am fallen into the hands of a Gentleman, that can speak soft things; and this is so fine a night to hear soft things in; moring I should have said.  Dap. 
It will not be morning, dear Madam, till you pull off your Mask; that I think was brisk— Aside.  Lyd. 
Indeed, dear Sir, my face would frighten back the Sun.  Dap. 
With glories, more radiant than his own;  
I keep up with her I think. Aside.  Lyd. 
But why would you put me to the trouble of lighting the World, when I thought to have gone to sleep?  Dap. 
You only can do it, dear Madam, let me perish.  Lyd. 
But why would you (of all men) practice Treason against your friend Phoebus, and depose him for a mere stranger?  Dap. 
I think he knows me. Aside.  Lyd. 
But he does not do you justice, I believe, and you are so positively cocksure of your wit, you would refer to a mere stranger your Plea to the Bay-tree.  Dap. 
She jeers me, let me perish. Aside.  Vin. 
Dapperwit, a little of your aid, for my Lady's invincibly dumb.  Dap. 
Would mine had been so too. Aside.  Vin. 
I have used as many arguments to make her speak, as are requisite to make other women hold their tongues.  Dap. 
Well, I am ready to change sides, yet before I go, Madam; since the Moon consents, now I should see your face, let me desire you to pull off your Mask, which to a handsome Lady is a favour, I'm sure.  Lyd. 
Truly, Sir, I must not be long in debt to you the obligation; pray, let▪ me here you recite some of your verses, which to a Wit, is a favour I'm sure.  Dap. 
Madam, it belongs to your sex to be obliged first; pull off your Mask, and I'll pull out my paper.  
Brisk again of my side. Aside.  Lyd. 
'Twou'd be in vain, for you would want a Candle now.  Dap. 
I dare not make use again of the lustre of her Aside. face: I'll wait upon you home then, Madam.  Lyd. 
Faith no, I believe it will not be much to our advantages, to bring my face, or your Poetry to light, for I hope, you have yet a pretty good opinion of my face, and so have I of your wit; but if you are for proving your wit, why do not you write a Play?  Dap. 
Because 'tis now no more reputation to write a Play, than it is honour to be a Knight: your true wit despises the title of Poet, as much as your true gentleman the title of Knight; for as a man may be a Knight and no Gentleman, so a man may be a Poet and no Wit, let me perish.  Lyd. 
Pray, Sir, how are you dignified or distinguished amongst the rates of Wits? and how many rates are there?  Dap. 
There are as many degrees of Wits, as of Lawyers; as there is first your Solicitor, than your Aturney, than your Pleading-Counsel, than your Chamber-Counsel, and then your Judge; so there is first your Courtwit, your Coffee-Wit, your Poll-Wit or Pollitick-Wit, your Chamber-Wit or Scribble-Wit, and last of all, your Judg-Wit or Critic.  Lyd. 
But are there as many Wits as Lawyers? Lord, what will become of us? what employment can they have? how are they known?  Dap. 
First, your Courtwit is a fashionable, insinuating, flattering, cringing, grimacing, fellow; and has wit enough to solicit a suit of Love; and if he fail, he has malice enough to ruin the woman with a dull Lampoon, but he rails still at the man that is absent, for you must know, all Wits rail; and his wit properly lies in combing Perruques, matching Ribbons, and being severe as they call it, upon other people's clothes.  Lyd. 
Now, what is the Coffee-Wit?  Dap. 
He is a lying, censorious, gossipping, quibbling wretch, and sets people together by the ears over that sober drink Coffee; he is a Wit, as he is a commentator upon the Gazet, and he rails at the Pirates of Algiere, the Grand Signior of Constantinople, and the Christian Grand Signior.  Lyd. 
What kind of man is your Poll-Wit?  Dap. 
He is a fidgeting, busy, dogmatical, hot-headed Fop, that speaks always in sentences and proverbs, (as others in similitudes) and he rails perpetually against the present government; his Wit lies in projects and monopolies, and penning speeches for young Parliament men.  Lyd. 
But what is your Chamber-Wit or Scribble-Wit?  Dap. 
He is a poring, melancholy, modest Sot, ashamed of the world; he searches all the Records of Wit, to compile a breviate of them for the use of Players, Printers, Booksellers, and sometimes Cooks, and Tabacca-men; he employs his railing against the ignorance of the age, and all that have more money than he.  Lyd. 
Now your last.  Dap. 
Your Judg-Wit or Critic, is all these together, and yet has the wit to be none of them; he can think, speak, write, as well as all the rest, but scorns (himself a Judge) to be judged by posterity; he rails at all the other Classes of Wits, and his wit lies in damning all but himself: he is your true Wit..  Lyd. 
Then, I suspect you are of his Form.  Dap. 
I cannot deny it, Madam.  Vin. 
Dapperwit, you have been all this time on the wrong side, for you love to talk all, and here's a Lady would not have hindered you.  Dap. 
A pox, I have been talking too long indeed here; for Wit is lost upon a silly weak woman, as well as courage. Aside.  Vin. 
I have used all common means to move a woman's tongue and mask; I called her ugly, old, and old acquaintance, and yet she would not disprove me: but here comes Ranger, let him try what he can do, for since my Mistress is dogged, I'll go sleep alone. Exit.  Ranger Enters. Lyd. 
Ranger! 'tis he indeed; I am sorry he is here, but glad I discovered him before I went, yet he must not discover me, lest I should be prevented hereafter, in finding him out, false Ranger. Aside. Nay, if they bring fresh force upon us, Madam, 'tis time to quit the Field. Ex. Lyd. Flip.  Ran. 
What, play with your quarry till it fly from you·  Dap. 
You frightened it away.  Ran. 
Ha! is not one of those Ladies in mourning?  Dap. 
All women are so by this light.  Ran. 
But you might easily discern it, don't you know her?  Dap. 
No.  Ran. 
Did you talk with her?  Dap. 
Yes, she's one of your brisk silly Baggages.  Ran. 
'Tis she, 'tis she, I was afraid I saw her before, let us follow 'em, prithee make haste. Exeunt. 'Tis Lydia. Aside.  
Lydia, my Lady Flippant return at the other door,  
Ranger, Dapperwit, following them at a distance.  Lyd. 
They follow us yet I fear.  Flip. 
You do not fear it certainly, otherwise, you would not have encouraged them.  Lyd. 
For heaven's sake, Madam, wave your quarrel a little; and let us pass by your Coach, and so on foot to your acquaintance in the old Pell-mell; for I would not be discovered by the man that came up last to us. Exeunt.  The Scene changes to Christina 's Lodging. Enter Christina, Isabel. Isa. 
For Heaven's sake undress yourself, Madam; they'll not return to night, all people have left the Park an hour ago.  Chri. 
What is't a Clock?  Isa. 
'Tis past one.  Chri. 
It cannot be.  Isa. 
I thought, that time had only stolen from happy Lovers; the Disconsolate have nothing to do but to tell the Clock.  Chri. 
I can only keep account with my misfortunes.  Isa. 
I am glad they are not innumerable.  Chri. 
And truly my undergoing so often your impertinency, is not the least of them.  Isa. 
I am then more glad, Madam, for than they cannot be great, and it is in my power, it seems, to make you in part happy, if I could but hold this villainous tongue of mine, but then let the people of the Town hold their tongues if they will, for I cannot but tell you what they say.  Chri. 
What do they say?  Isa. 
Faith, Madam, I am afraid to tell you, now I think on't.  Chri. 
Is it so ill?  Isa. 
Oh, such base unworthy things.  Chri. 
Do they say, I was really Clerimont's Wench as he boasted; and that the ground of the quarrel betwixt Valentine and him, was not Valentine's vindication of my honour, but Clerimonts' jealousy of him.  Isa, 
Worse, worse a thousand times, such villainous things to the utter ruin of your reputation.  Chri. 
What are they?  Isab. 
Faith, Madam, you'll be angry, 'tis the old trick of Lovers to hate their informers, after they have made 'em such.  Chri. 
I will not be angry.  Isab. 
They say then, since Mr. Valentine's flying into France, you are grown mad, have put yourself into Mourning, live in a dark room, where you'll see no body, nor take any rest day or night, but rave and talk to yourself perpetually.  Chri. 
Now what else?  Isab. 
But the surest sign of your madness is, they say, because you are desperately resolved (in case my Lord Clerimont should die of his wounds, to Transport yourself and Fortune into France, to Mr. Valentine, a man that has not a groat to return you in exchange.  Chri. 
All this hitherto, is true; now to the rest.  Isab. 
Indeed, Madam, I have no more to tell you, I was sorry, I'm sure, to hear so much of any Lady of mine.  Chri. 
Insupportable insolence.  Isab. 
This is some revenge for my want of sleep to night; so I hope my old second is come; 'tis seasonable relief. Aside.  Knocking at the door. Chri. 
Unhappy Valentine, couldst thou but Exit. Isabel. see how soon thy absence, and misfortunes have disbanded all thy Friends, and turned thy Slaves all Renegades, thou sure wouldst prize my only faithful heart.  Enter my Lady Flippant, Lydia, Isabel, to her. Flip. 
Hail faithful Shepherdess; but truly, I had not kept my word with you, in coming back to night, if it had not been for this Lady, who has her intrigues too with the fellows, as well as you.  Lyd. 
Madam, under my Lady Flippants' protection, I am confident to beg yours; being just now pursued out of the Park, by a relation of mine, by whom it imports me extremely not to be discovered; but I fear he is now at the door. Knocking at the door. Let me desire you to deny me to him courageously, To Isabel going out. for he will hardly believe he can be mistaken in me.  Chri. 
In such an occasion where impudence is requisite, she will serve you, as faithfully as you can wish, Madam.  Flip. 
Come, come, Madam, do not upbraid her with her assurance, a qualification that only fits her for a Lady's Service; a fine Woman of the Town, can be no more without a woman that can make an excuse with an assurance, than she can be without a glass certainly.  Chri. 
She needs no Advocate.  Flip. 
How can any one alone manage an amorous intrigue; though the Birds are tame, some body must help draw the Net; if 'twere not for a Woman that could make an excuse with assurance, how should we whedle, jilt, trace, discover, countermine, undermine, and blow up the stinking fellows, which is all the pleasure I receive, or design by them; for I never admitted a man to my conversation, but for his punishment certainly.  Chri. 
No body will doubt that, certainly.  Isabel returns. Isab. 
Madam, the Centleman will not be mistaken, he says you are here, he saw you come in; he is your Relation, his name's Ranger, and is come to wait upon you home; I had much ado to keep him from coming up.  Lyd. 
Madam, for Heaven's sake help me, 'tis yet in your power, if but while I retire into your Dining-room, To Christina. you will please to personate me, and own yourself, for her, he pursued out of the Park; you are in Mourning too, and your Stature so much mine, it will not contradict you.  Chri. 
I am sorry, Madam, I must dispute any command of yours; I have made a resolution to see the face of no man, till an unfortunate Friend of mine, now out of the Kingdom, return.  Lyd. 
By that Friend, and by the hopes you have to see him, let me conjure you to keep me from the sight of mine now; Dear Madam, let your charity prevail over your superstition.  Isab. 
He comes, he comes Madam.  Ranger enters. Lydia withdraws and stands unseen at the door. Ran. 
Ha! this is no Lydia.  Chri. 
What unworthy defamer has encouraged you to offer me this insolence.  Ran. 
She is liker Lydia in her style, than her face; I see I am mistaken, but to tell her I followed her for another, were an affront, rather than an excuse; she's a glorious creature. Aside.  Chri. 
Tell me, Sir, whence had you reason for this your rude pursuit of me, into my Lodging, my Chamber; why should you follow me?  Ran. 
Faith, Madam, because you run away from me.  Chri. 
That was no sign of an acquaintance.  Ran. 
You'll pardon me Madam.  Chri. 
Then it seems you mistook me for another, and the night is your excuse, which blots out all distinctions: but now you are satisfied in your mistake, I hope, you will go seek out your Woman in another place.  Ran. 
Madam, I allow not the excuse you make for me; if I have offended, I will rather be condemned for my love, then pardoned for my insensibility.  Lyd. 
How's that? behind.  Chri. 
What do you say?  Ran. 
Though the night had been darker, my heart would not have suffered me to follow any one but you; he has been too long acquainted with you, to mistake you.  Lyd. 
What means this tenderness; he mistook me for her sure? behind.  Chri. 
What says the Gentleman? did you know me then Sir?  Ran. 
Not I, the Devil take me, but I must on now. Aside. Could you imagine, Madam, by the innumerable crowd of your admirers, you had left any man free in the Town, or ignorant of the power of your Beauty.  Chri. 
I never saw your face before, that I remember.  Ran. 
Ah Madam! you would never regard you humb'lest Slave; I was till now a modest Lover.  Lyd. 
Falsest of men. behind.  Chri. 
My woman said, you came to seek a Relation here, not a Mistress.  Ran. 
I must confess, Madam, I thought you would sooner disprove my dissembled error, then admit my visit; and I was resolved to see you.  Lyd. 
'Tis clear. behind.  Ran. 
Indeed, when I followed you first out of the Park, I was afraid you might have been a certain Relation of mine, for your Statures and Habits are the same; but when you entered here, I was with joy convinced: Besides, I would not for the world have given her troublesome love, so much encouragement, to have disturbed my future addresses to you; for the foolish woman does perpetually torment me, to make our relation nearer; but never more in vain, then since I have seen you, Madam.  Lyd. 
How shall I suffer this? 'tis clear he disappointed me to night for her, and made me stay at home, that I might not disappoint him of her company in the Park. behind.  Chri. 
I am amazed! but let me tell you, Sir, if the Lady were here, I would satisfy her, the sight of me should never frustrate her ambitious designs upon her cruel Kinsman.  Lyd. 
I wish you could satisfy me. behind.  Ran. 
If she were here, she would satisfy you, she were not capable of the honour to be taken for you (though in the dark) faith, my Cousin is but a tolerable woman to a man that had not seen you.  Chri. 
Sure to my Plague, this is the first time you ever saw me?  Ran. 
Sure to the Plague of my poor heart, 'tis nor the hundredth time I have seen you; for since the time I saw you first, you have not been at the Park, Playhouse, Exchange, or other public place, but I saw you; for it was my business to watch and follow you.  Chri. 
Pray, when did you see me last at the Park, Playhouse, or Exchange.  Ran. 
Some two, three days, or a week ago.  Chri. 
I have not been this month out of this Chamber.  Lyd. 
That is to delude me. behind.  Chri. 
I knew you were mistaken.  Ran. 
You'll pardon a Lover's memory, Madam.  
A pox, I have hanged myself in my own line, one would think, my perpetual ill luck in lying, should break me of the quality; but like a losing Gamester, I am still for pushing on, till none will trust me. Aside.  Chri. 
Come, Sir, you run out of one error into a greater, you would excuse the rudeness of your mistake, and intrusion at this hour, into my Lodgings, with your gallantry to me, more unseasonable and offensive.  Ran. 
Nay, I am in Love I see, for I blush, and have not a word to say for myself.  Chri. 
But, Sir, if you will needs play the Gallant, pray leave my House before Morning, lest you should be seen go hence, to the scandal of my honour.  Chri. 
Rather than that should be, I'll call up the House and Neighbours to bear witness, I bid you be gone.  Ran. 
Since you take a night-visit so ill, Madam, I will never wait upon you again, but by day; I go, that I may hope to return, and for once, I will wish you a good night without me.  Chri. 
Good night, for as long as I live. Ex. Ranger  Lyd. 
And good night to my Love, I'm sure. Behind.  Chri. 
Though I have done you an inconsiderable service, I assure you, Madam, you are not a little obliged to me.  
Pardon me dear Valentine. Aside.  Lyd. 
I know not yet, whether I am more obliged then injured; when I do I assure you, Madam, I shall not be insensible of either.  Chri. 
I fear, Madam, you are as liable to mistakes, as your Kinsman.  Lyd. 
I fear, I am more subject to 'em, it may be for want of sleep, therefore I'll go home.  Chri. 
My Lady Flippant, good night.  Flip. 
Good night, or rather good morrow, faithful Shepherdess.  Chri. 
I'll wait of you down.  Lyd. 
Your Coach stays yet, I hope.  Flip. 
Certainly. Ex. Omnes.  Enter Ranger, Dapperwit. The Scene, the Street. Dap. 
I was a faithful Sentinel, no body came out, let me perish.  Ran. 
No, no, I hunted upon a wrong scent; I thought I had followed a Woman, but found her an Angel.  Dap. 
What is her name?  Ran. 
That you must tell me; What very fine woman is there lies hereabouts?  Dap. 
Faith, I know not any, she is I warrant you some fine woman, of a Terms standing or so in the Town; such as seldom appear in public, but in their Balcones, where they stand so constantly, one would think they had hired no other part of the House.  Ran. 
And look like the Pictures, which Painters expose to draw in Customers; but I must know who she is, Vincents' Lodging is hard by, I'll go and inquire of him, and lie with him to night; but if he will not let me, I'll lie with you, for my lodging is too far off—  Dap. 
Then I will go before, and expect you at mine. Ex.  The Scene, Vincents' Lodging. Enter Vincent, Valentine, in a riding habit, as newly from a Journey. Vin. 
Your Mistress, dear Valentine, will not be more glad to see you; but my wonder is no less than my joy, that you would return ere you were informed Clerimont were out of danger; his Surgeons themselves, have not been assured of his recovery, till within these two days.  Val. 
I feared my Mistress, not my Life; my Life I could trust again with my old enemy Fortune; but not longer, my Mistress, in the hands of my greater Enemies, her Relations.  Vin. 
Your fear was in the wrong place then, for though my Lord Clerimont live, he and his Relations, may put you in more danger of your life, than you Mistresses Relations can of losing her.  Val. 
Would any could secure me her, I would myself secur my life, for I should value it then.  Vin. 
Come, come, her Relations can do you no hurt; I dare swear, If her Mother should but say, your Hat did not cock handsomely, she would never ask her blessing again.  Val. 
Prithee leave thy fooling, and tell me, if since my departure, She has given evidences of her love, to clear those doubts I went away with, for as absence is the bane of common and bastard Love; 'tis the vindication of that, which is true and generous.  Vin. 
Nay, if you could ever doubt her love, you deserve to doubt on; for there is no punishment great enough for jealousy, but jealousy.  Val. 
You may remember, I told you before my flight, I had quarrelled with the defamer of my Mistress, but thought I had killed my Rival.  Vin. 
But pray give me now the answer, which the suddenness of your flight denied me; how could Clerimont hope to subdue her heart, by the assault of her honour?  Val. 
Pish, it might be the stratagem of a Rival, to make me desist.  Vin. 
For shame, if 'twere not rather to vindicate her, then satisfy you, I would not tell you, how like a Penelope she has behaved herself in your absence.  Val. 
Let me know.  Vin. 
Then know, the next day you went, she put herself into mourning, and—  Val. 
That might be for Clerimont, thinking him dead, as all the world besides thought.  Vin. 
Still turning the dagger's point on yourself, hear me out; I say she put herself into mourning for you— loc'kd up herself in her chamber, this month for you— shut out her barking Relations for you— has not seen the Sun, or face of man, since she saw you— thinks, and talks of nothing but you— sends to me daily, to hear of you— and in short (I think) is mad for you— all this I can swear, for I am to her so near a Neighbour, and so inquisitive a friend for you—  Servant to them. Ser. 
Mr. Ranger, Sir, is coming up.  Vin. 
What brings him now? he comes to lie with me.  Val. 
Who, Ranger?  Vin. 
Yes, pray retire a little, till I send him off, unless you have a mind to have your arrival published to morrow, in the Coffeehouses.  Ran. 
What, not yet a-bed? your man is laying you to sleep Valentine retires to the door behind. with Usquebaugh or Brandy, is he not so?  Vin. 
What Punk will not be troubled with you to night, therefore I am, is it not so?  Ran. 
I have been turned out of doors indeed just now, by a Woman, but such a Woman, Vincent—  Vin. 
Yes, yes, your women are always such women.—  Ran. 
A Neighbour of yours, and I'm sure the finest you have.  Vin. 
Prithee do not asperse my Neighbourhood with your acquaintance; 'twould bring a scandal upon an Alley.  Ran. 
Nay, I do not know her, therefore I come to you.  Vin. 
'Twas no wonder, she turned you out of doors then; and if she had known you, 'twould have been a wonder she had let you stay; but where does she live?  Ran. 
— He whispers.  Vin. 
Pish, pish—  Ran. 
What's the matter?  Vin. 
— Does she live there, do you say?  Ran. 
Yes, I observed them exactly, that my account from you, might be as exact; do you know who lives there?  Vin. 
Yes, so well, that I know you are mistaken.  Ran. 
Is she not a young Lady scarce eighteen, of extraordinary beauty, her stature next to low, and in mourning?  Val. 
What is this? Behind.  Vin. 
She is; but if you saw her, you broke in at window.  Ran. 
I chased her home from the Park, indeed, taking her for another Lady who had some claim to my heart, till she showed a better title to't.  Vin. 
Ha, hah, hah.  Val. 
Was she at Park then? and have I a new Rival? Behind.  Vin. 
From the Park did you follow her, do you say? I knew you were mistaken.  Ran. 
I tell you I am not.  Vin. 
If you are sure, it was that house, it might be perhaps her woman stolen to the Park, unknown to her Lady.  Ran. 
My acquaintance does usually begin with the Maid first, but now 'twas with the Mistress, I assure you.  Vin. 
The Mistress! I tell you, she has not been out of her doors since Valentine's flight; she is his Mistress, the great Heiress Christina.  Ran. 
I tell you then again, I followed that Christina from the Park home, where I talked with her half an hour, and intent to see her to morrow again.  Val. 
Would she talk with him too? behind.  Vin. 
It cannot be.  Ran. 
Christina, do you call her? faith I am sorry she is an Heiress, lest it should bring the scandal of interest, and design of lucre upon my Love.  Vin. 
No, no, her face and virtues will free you from that censure; but however, 'tis not fairly done to Rival your friend Valentine in his absence; and when he is present, you know 'twill be dangerous, by my Lord Clerimont's example; faith if you have seen her, I would not advise you to attempt it again.  Ran. 
You may be merry, Sir, you are not in Love; your advice I came not for, nor will I for your assistance; good night.  Val. 
Here's your Penelope, the woman that Ex. Ranger. had not seen the Sun, nor face of Man, since my departure; for it seems she goes out in the night, when the Sun is absent, and faces are not distinguished.  Vin. 
Why, do you believe him?  Val. 
Should I believe you?  Vin. 
'Twere more for your interest, and you would be less deceived; if you believe him, you must doubt the chastity of all the fine Women in Town, and five miles about.  Val, 
His reports of them, will little invallidate his testimony with me.  Vin. 
He spares not the Innocents in Bibs and Aprons (I'll secure you) he has made (at best) some gross mistake concerning Christina, which to morrow will discover; in the mean time let us go sleep.  Val. 
I will not hinder you, because I cannot enjoy it myself;  
Hunger, Revenge, to sleep are petty Foes,  
But only Death the jealous Eyes can close. Exeunt.    

ACT. III.  

SCENE. I. Crossbites House.  Enter Mrs. joiner, Mrs. Crossbite. Joyn. 
GGod morrow, Gossip.  Cros. 
Good morrow; but why up so early good Gossip?  Joyn. 
My care and passionate concern for you, and yours, would not let me rest (intruly.)  Cros. 
For me and mine?  Joyn. 
You know, we have known one another long; I think it be some nine and thirty years since you were married.  Cros. 
Nine and thirty years old Mistress? I'd have you to know, I am no far born Child; and if the Register had not been burned in the last great fire alas; but my face needs no Register sure: nine and thirty years old said you, Mistress?  Joyn. 
I said you had been so long married; but, indeed, you bear your years as well as any she in Pepper-Alley.  Cros. 
Nine and thirty, Mistress.  Joyn. 
This it is; a woman now-adays, had rather you should find her faulty with a man, I warrant you, then discover her age, I warrant you.  Cros. 
Marry and 'tis the greater secret far; tell a Miser he is rich, and a Woman she is old; you will get no money of him, nor kindness of her: to tell me I was nine and thirty (I say no more) 'twas unneighbourly done of you, Mistress.  Joyn. 
My memory confessess my age, it seems, as much as my face, for I thought—  Cros. 
Pray talk, nor think no more of any one's Age; but say, what brought you hither so early?  Joyn. 
How does my sweet God-daughter? poor wretch.  Cros. 
Well, very well.  Joyn. 
Ah sweet Creature; alas, alas, I am sorry for her.  Cros. 
Why, what has she done to deserve your sorrow, or my reprehension?  Lucy comes to the door. Lucy. 
What are they talking of me? behind.  Joyn. 
In short, she was seen going into the Meetinghouse of the Wicked, otherwise called the Play house, hand in hand, with that vile fellow Dapperwit.  Cros. 
Mr. Dapperwit; let me tell you, if 'twere not for Master Dapperwit, we might have lived all this Vacation upon Green Cheese, Tripe, and Ox-cheek; if he had it, we should not want it; but poor Gentleman, it often goes hard with him, for he's a Wit..  Joyn. 
So then, you are the Dog to be fed, while the house is broken up; I say beware, the sweet bits you swallow, will make your daughter's belly swell, Mistress; and after all your Junkets, there will be a bone for you to pick, Mistress.  Cros. 
Sure, Master Dapperwit is no such manner of man?  Joyn. 
He is a Wit, you say, and what are Wits? but contemners of Matrons, Seducers, or Defamers of married Women, and Deflourers of helpless Virgins, even in the Streets, upon the very Bulks; Affronters of midnight Magistracy, and Breakers of Windows in a word.  Cros. 
But he is a littlewit, a modest-wit, and they do no such outrageous things, as your great Wits do.  Joyn. 
Nay, I dare say, he will not say himself he is a littlewit, if you ask him.  Lucy. 
Nay, I cannot hear this with patience; with your Aside. pardon mother, you are as much mistaken, as my Godmother in Mr. Dapperwit; for he is as great a Wit as any, and in what he speaks or writes, as happy as any; I can assure you, he contemns all your tearing Wits, in comparison of himself.  Joyn. 
Alas, poor young wretch, I cannot blame thee so much as thy mother, for thou art not thyself; his bewitching Madrigals have charmed thee into some Heathenish, Imp with a hard name.  Lucy. 
Nymph, you mean Godmother.  Joyn. 
But you Gossip, know what's what; yesterday, as I told you, a fine Old Alderman of the City, seeing your Daughter in so ill hands as Dapperwits', was Zealously, and in pure Charity, bent upon her redemption; and has sent me to tell you, he will take her into his care, and relieve your necessities, if you think good.  Cros. 
Will he relieve all our necessities?  Joyn. 
All.  Cros. 
Mine, as well as my Daughters?  Joyn. 
Yes.  Cros. 
Well fare his heart; d'y here Daughter, Mrs. joiner has satisfied me clearly; Dapperwit is a vile fellow, and in short, you must put an end to that scandalous familiarity between you.  Lucy. 
Leave sweet Mr. Dapperwit— Oh furious ingratitude! was not he the man that gave me my first Farrenden Gown, put me out of Worsted Stockings, and plain Handkerchiefs, taught me to dress, talk, and move well.  Cros. 
He has taught you to talk indeed; but Huswife, I will not have my pleasure disputed.  Joyn. 
Nay, indeed you are too tart with her, poor sweet Soul.  Lucy. 
He taught me to rehearse too, would have brought me to the Playhouse, where I might have had as good luck as others: I might have had good clothes, Plate, Jewels, and things so well about me; that my Neighbours, the little gentlemen's Wives, of Fifteen hundred, or Two thousand pound a year, should have retired into the Country, sick of th' envy, of my prosperity and greatness.  Joyn. 
if you follow your mother's counsel, you are like to enjoy all you talk of sooner; then by Dapperwits' assistance; a poor wretch that goes on tick for the Paper he writes his Lampoons on; and the very Ale and Coffee that inspires him as they say.  Cros. 
I am credibly informed so, indeed, Madam joiner.  Joyn. 
Well, I have discharged my Conscience; good morrow to you both. Exeunt.  Enter Dapperwit, Ranger; Crossbites Dining-room. Dap. 
This is the Cabinet, in which I hide my Jewel, a small house, in an obscure, little, retired street too.  Ram. 
Vulgarly an Alley.  Dap. 
Nay, I hid my Mistress, with as much care, as a Spark of the Town does his money from his Dun, after a good hand at Play; and nothing but you could have wrought upon me for a sight of her, let me perish.  Ran. 
My obligation to you is great; do not lessen it by delays, of the favour you promised.  Dap. 
But do not censure my honour, for if you had not been in a desperate condition— for as one nail must beat out another, one poison expel another, one fire draw out another, one fit of drinking cure the sickness of another; so the Surfeit you took last night of Christina's eyes, shall be cured by Lucy's this morning, or as—  Ran. 
Nay, I bar more similitudes.  Dap. 
What, in my mistress's lodging? that were as hard as to bar a young Parson in the Pulpit, the fifth of November, railing at the Church of Rome, or as hard as to put you to bed to Lucy, and defend you touching her, or as—  Ran. 
Or as hard as to make you hold your tongue— I shall not see your Mistress, I see?  Dap. 
Miss Lucy, Miss Lucy— Knocks at the door, and returns. the Devil take me, if good men (I say no more) have not been upon their knees to me, to see her, and you at last must obtain it.  Ran. 
I do not believe you.  Dap. 
'Tis such a she, she is beautiful, without affectation, amorous without impertinency, airy, and brisk without impudence, frolic without rudeness; and in a word, the justest creature breathing to her asignation.  Ran. 
You praise her, as if you had a mind to part with her; and yet you resolve, I see, to keep her to yourself.  Dap. 
Keep her, poor Creature, she cannot leave me; and rather than leave her, I would leave writing Lampoons or Sonnets almost.  Ran· 
Well, I'll leave you with her then.  Dap. 
What, will you go without seeing her?  Ran. 
Rather than stay without seeing her.  Dap. 
Yes, yes, you shall see her; but let me perish if I have not been offered a hundred Guinnies, for a sight of her; by— I say no more.  Ran. 
I understand you now; if the favour be to be Aside. purchased, then I'll bid all I have about me for't.  Dap. 
Fie fie, Mr. Ranger, you are pleasant i'faith; do you think I would sell the sight of my rarity? like those Gentlemen who hang out Flags at Charing-cross, or like—  Rang. 
Nay, then i'm gone again.  Dap. 
What, you take it ill I refuse your money? rather than that should be, give us it; but take notice I will borrow it; now I think on't, Lucy wants a Gown, and some Knacks.  Ran. 
Here.  Dap. 
But I must pay it you again; I will not take it, unless you engage your honour, I shall pay it you again.  Ran. 
You must pardon me; I will not engage my honour for such a trifle; go fetch her out.  Dap. 
Well, she's a ravishing Creature, such eyes, and lips, Mr. Ranger.  Ran. 
Prithee go.  Dap. 
Such neck and breasts, Mr. Ranger.  Ran. 
Again, prithee go.  Dap. 
Such, feet, legs, and thighs, Mr. Ranger.  Ran. 
Prithee let me see 'em.  Dap. 
And a mouth no bigger than your Ring; I need say no more.  Ran. 
Would thou were't never to speak again.  Dap. 
And then so neat, so sweet a Creature in bed, that to my knowledge, she does not change her Sheets in half a year.  Ran. 
I thank you for that allay to my impatience.  Dap. 
Miss Lucy, Miss Lucy, Miss. Knocking at the door.  Ran. 
Will she not open?  Dap. 
I am afraid, my pretty Miss is not stirring, and therefore will not admit us.  Dap. 
Fie, Fie, a quibble next your stomach in a morning; what if she should hear us, would you lose a Mistress for a quibble? that's more than I could do, let me perish.  Ran. 
Is she not gone her walk to Lamb's Conduit?  Dap. 
She is within, I hear her.  Ran. 
But she will not hear you; she's as deaf, as if you were a Dun or a Constable.  Dap. 
Pish, give her but leave to gape, rub her eyes, and put on her day-Pinner; the long patch under the left eye; awaken the Roses on her cheeks, with some Spanish wool, and warrant her breath with some Lemon Peil; the door flies off of the hinges, and she into my arms; she knows there is as much Artifice to keep a victory, as to gain it; and 'tis a sign she values the conquest of my heart.  Ran. 
I thought her beauty had not stood in need of Art.  Dap. 
Beauty's a Coward, still without the help of Art, and may have the fortune of a Conquest, but cannot keep it; Beauty and Art can no more be asunder, then Love and Honour.  Ran. 
Or to speak more like yourself, wit and judgement.  Dap. 
Don't you hear the door wag yet?  Ran. 
Not a whit.  Dap. 
Miss, Miss, 'tis your slave that calls; come, all this tricking for him; lend me your Comb, Mr. Ranger.  Ran. 
No, I am to be preferred to day, you are to set me off; you are in possession; I will not lend you arms to keep me out—  Dap. 
A Pox, don't let me be ungrateful; if she has smugged herself up for me, let me Prune, and Flounce my Perruque a little for her; there's ne'er a young fellow in the Town but will do as much, for a mere stranger in the Playhouse.  Ran. 
A Wits Wig, has the privilege of being uncombed in the very Playhouse, or in the presence—  Dap. 
But not in the presence of his Mistress; 'tis a greater neglect of her then himself; pray lend me your Comb.  Ran. 
I would not have men of Wit, and Courage, make use of every Fops mean Arts, to keep, or gain a Mistress.  Dap. 
But don't you see every day, though a man have ne'er so much Wit and Courage, his Mistress will revolt to those Fops that wear, and Comb Peruques well; I'll break off the bargain, and will not receive you, my Partner.  Ran. 
Therefore you see I am setting Combs his Perruque. up for myself.  Dap. 
She comes, she comes, pray, your Comb.  Snatches Rangers Comb. Enter Mrs. Crossbite to them. Cros. 
Bargain, what are you offering us to sale?  Dap. 
A Pox, is't she? here take your Comb again then. Returns the Comb.  Cros. 
Would you sell us? 'tis like you y'fads.  Dap. 
Sell thee, where should we find a Chapman? go prithee mother, call out my dear Miss Lucy▪  Cros. 
Your Miss Lucy; I do not wonder you have the Conscience to bargain for us behind our backs, since you have the impudence to claim a propriety in us, to my face.  Ran. 
How's this Dapperwit?  Dap. 
Come, come, this Gentleman will not think the worse of a Woman, for my acquaintance with her; he has seen me bring your Daughter to the Leur with a Chiney Orange, from one side of the Playhouse to the other.  Cros. 
I would have the Gentleman, and you to know, my Daughter is a Girl of reputation, though she has been seen in your company; but is now so sensible of her past danger, that she is resolved never more to venture her Pitcher to the Well, as they say.  Dap. 
How's that Widow? I wonder at your new confidence.  Cros. 
I wonder at your old impudence, that where you have had so frequent repulses, you should provoke another, and bring your Friend here to witness your disgrace.  Dap. 
Hark you Widow a little.  Cros. 
What, you have Mortgaged my Daughter to that Centleman; and now would offer me a snip to join in the security.  Dap. 
She overheard me talk of a bargain; 'twas unlucky; Aside. your wrath is grounded upon a mistake: Miss Lucy herself shall be judge, call her out pray.  Cros. 
She shall not, she will not come to you.  Dap. 
Till I hear it from her own mouth, I cannot believe it.  Cros. 
You shall hear her say't through the door.  Dap. 
I shall doubt it, unless she say it to my face.  Cros. 
Shall we be troubled with you no more then?  Dap. 
If she command my death, I cannot disobey her.  Cros. 
Come out Child. Lucy (holding down her head) to them.  Dap. 
Your Servant dearest Miss, can you have?—  Cros. 
Let me ask her.  Dap. 
No, I'll ask her.  Ran. 
I'll throw up Cross or Pile who shall ask her.  Dap. 
Can you have the heart to say, you will never more break a Cheesecake with me, at New Spring-garden, the Neat-house, or Chelsey; never more sit in my lap at a New Play, never more wear a Suit of Knots of my choice; and last of all, never more pass away an afternoon with me again, in the Green Garret? in— do not forget the Green Garret.  Lucy. 
I wish I had never seen the Green Garret; Demm the Green Garret.  Dap. 
Demm the Green Garret, you are strangely altered.  Lucy. 
'tis you are altered.  Dap. 
You have refused Colby's Mulberry Garden, and the French-houses, for the Green Garret; and a little something in the Green Garret, pleased you more than the best Treat the other places could yield; and can you of a sudden quit the Green Garret?  Lucy. 
Since you have a design to Pawn me for the Rent, 'tis time to remove my Goods.  Dap. 
Thou art extremely mistaken.  Lucy. 
Besides, I have heard such strange things of you this morning—  Dap. 
What things?  Lucy. 
I blush to speak 'em.  Dap. 
I know my Innocence, therefore take my charge as a favour; what have I done?  Lucy. 
Then know vile Wit, my mother has confessed just now, thou were't false to me, to her too certain knowledge; and hast forced even her to be false to me too.  Dap. 
Faults in drink, Lucy, when we are not ourselves, should not condemn us.  Lucy. 
And now to let me out to hire like Hackney; I tell you my own dear mother shall bargain for me no more; there are as little as I can bargain for themselves now-adays, as well as properer women.  Cros. 
Whispering all this while; beware of his snares again, come away Child.  Dap. 
Sweet, dear, Miss.  Lucy. 
Bargain for me; you have reckoned without your Hostess, as they say, bargain for me, bargain for me. Exit. Lucy.  Dap. 
I must return then, to treat with you.  Cross. 
Treat me no treatings, but take a word for all; you shall no more dishonour my Daughter, nor molest my Lodgings, as you have done at all hours.  Dap. 
Do you intent to change 'em, then, to Bridewell, or Longs powdering-Tub.  Cros. 
No, to a Bailiffs house, and then you'll be so civil, I presume, as not to trouble us.  Run, 
Here, will you have my Comb again, Dapperwit?  Dap. 
A pox, I think women take inconstancy from me, worse than from any man breathing.  Cros. 
Pray, Sir, forget me, before you write your next Lampoon. Ex. Cros.  Sir Simon Addleplot in the dress of a Clark. To Ranger and Dapperwit. Sir Sim. 
Have I found you? have I found you, in your by-walks, faith and troth? I am almost out of breath in following you; Gentlemen when they get into an Alley, walk so fast; as if they had more earnest business there, then in the broad streets.  Dap. 
How came this Sot hither? Fortune has sent him to ease my choler. Aside.  
You impudent Rascal, who are you? that dare intrude thus on us. Strikes him.  Sir Sim. 
Don't you know me, Dapperwit? sure you know me. Softly.  Dap. 
Wilt thou dishonour me with thy acquaintance too? thou rascally, insolent, pen and inkman. Strikes him again.  Sir Sim. 
Oh, oh sure, you know me, pray know me.  Speak softly. Dap. 
By thy saucy familiarity, thou shouldst be a Marker at a Tennis-court, a Barber, or a Slave that fills Coffee.  Sir Sim. 
Oh, oh.  Dap. 
What art thou? Kicks him.  Sir Sim. 
Nay, I must not discover myself to Ranger, for a kick or two; oh, pray hold, Sir, by that you will know me.  Delivers him a Letter. Dap. 
How, Sir Simon!  Sir Sim. 
Mum, mum, make no excuses man, I would not Ranger should have known me for five hundred— kicks.  Dap. 
Your disguise is so natural, I protest, it will excuse me.  Sir Sim. 
I know that, prithee make no excuses, I say; no ceremony between thee and I man; read the Letter.  Dap. 
What, you have not opened it?  Sir Sim. 
Prithee don't be angry, the Seal is a little cracked; for I could not help kissing Mrs. Martha's Letter, the word is, now or never, her Father she finds will be abroad all this day, and she longs to see your friend, Sir Simon Addleplot: faith, 'tis a pretty jest; While I am with her, and praising myself to her, at no ordinary rate; let thee and I alone, at an intrigue.  Dap. 
Tell her, I will not fail to meet her, at the place, and time, have a care of your charge; and manage your business like yourself, for yourself.  Sir Sim. 
I warrant you.  Dap. 
The gaining Gripes Daughter, will make me support the loss of this young Jilt here. Aside.  Ran. 
What fellow's that?  Dap. 
A Servant, to a Friend of mine.  Ran. 
Methinks, he something resembles our acquaintance, Sir Simon, but it is no compliment to tell him so; for that Knight, is the most egregious Coxcomb, that ever played with Ladies Fan.  Sir Sim. 
So; thanks to my disguise, I know my Enemies. Aside.  Ran. 
The most incorrigible Ass, beyond the reproof of a kicking Rival, or a frowning Mistress; but if it be possible, thou dost use him worse, than his Mistress, or Rival can; thou dost make such a Culley of him.  Sir Sim. 
Does he think so too?— Aside.  Dap. 
Go friend, go about your business, Ex. Sir. Simon. a pox, you would spoil all, just in the critical time of projection; he brings me here a Summons from his Mistress, to meet her in the evening; will you come to my Wedding?  Ran. 
Don't speak so loud, you'll break poor Lucy's heart; poor creature, she cannot leave you, and rather than leave her, you should leave writing of Lampoons, or Sonnets— almost.  Dap. 
Come, let her go, ungrateful baggage; but now you talk of Sonnets; I am no living Wit, if her love has not cost me two thousand Couplets at least.  Ran. 
But, what would you give now, for a new satire against women, ready made; 'twould be as convenient to buy, Satyrs against women, ready made, as it is to buy Crevats ready tied.  Dap. 
Or as—  Ran. 
Hay, come away, come away, Mr. or as— Exeunt.  Enter Mrs. joiner, Gripe. Gripe. 
Peace, Plenty, and Pastime be within these Walls.  Joyn. 
'Tis a small House you see, and mean Furniture, for no Gallants are suffered to come hither; she might have had ere now, as good lodgings, as any in Town; her Moreclack-hanging, great Glasses, Cabinets, China embroidered Beds, Persia Carpets, Gold-plate, and the like, if she would have put herself forward; but your Worship may please, to make 'em remove to a place, fit to receive one of your Worship's quality; for this is a little scandalous in truly.  Gripe. 
No, no, I like it well enough, I am not dainty; besides privacy, privacy, Mrs. joiner, I love privacy, in opposition to the Wicked, who hate it?  Joyn. 
What do you look for, Sir? Looks about.  Gripe. 
Walls have ears, Walls have ears; but besides, I look for a private place to retire to, in time of need; oh her's one convenient. Turns up a Hanging, and discovers the slender provisions of the Family.  Joyn· 
But you see poor innocent Souls, to what use they put it, not to hide Gallants.  Gripe. 
Temperance is the nurse of Chastity.  Joyn. 
But your Worship may please to mend their fare; and when you come, may make them entertain you, better then, you see, they do themselves.  Gripe. 
No, I am not dainty, as I told you; I abominate Entertainments; no Entertainments, pray Mrs. joiner.  Joyn. 
No. Aside.  Gripe. 
There can be no entertainment to me, more Luscious and Savoury, than the communion with that little Gentlewoman; will you call her out, I fast till I see her.  Joyn. 
But intruly your Worship, we should have brought a bottle or two of Rhenish, and some Naples Biscuit, to have entertained the young Gentlewoman; 'tis the mode for Lovers to Treat their Mistresses.  Gripe. 
Modes, I tell you Mrs. joiner, I hate Modes and Forms.  Joyn. 
You must send for something to entertain her with.  Gripe. 
Again entertaining; we will be to each other a Feast.  Joyn. 
I shall be ashamed, intruly your Worship; besides, the young Gentlewoman will despise you.  Gripe. 
I shall content her, I warrant you, leave it to me.  Joyn. 
I am sure you will not content me, if you will not content her; 'tis as impossible for a man to love, and be a miser, as to love and be wise, as they say. Aside.  Gripe. 
While you talk of Treats, you starve my eyes; I long to see the fair One; fetch her hither.  Joyn. 
I am ashamed she should find me so abominable a liar; I have so praised you to her, and above all your Virtues, your Liberality; which is so great a Virtue, that it often excuses Youth, Beauty, Courage, Wit, or any thing.  Gripe. 
Pish, Pish, 'tis the virtue of Fools, every Fool can have it.  Joyn. 
And will your worship want it then? I told her—  Gripe. 
Why would you tell her any thing of me? you know I am a modest man; but come, if you will have me as extravagant as the wicked; take that, and fetch us a Treat, as you call it.  Joyn. 
Upon my life a Groat, what will this purchase?  Gripe. 
Two Black Pots of Ale, and a Cake, at the next Cellar; come, the Wine has Arsenic in't.  Joyn. 
Well, I am mistaken, and my hopes are abused; I never knew any man so mortified a Miser, that he would deny his Lechery any thing; I must be even with thee then another way. Goes out. Aside.  Gripe. 
These useful old Women are more exorbitant, and craving in their desires, than the young ones in theirs; these Prodigals in white Peruques, spoil 'em both; and that's the reason when the Squires come under my cluchess; I make 'em pay for their folly and mine, and 'tis but Conscience: Oh here comes the fair One at last.  Enter joiner leading in Lucy, who hangs backward as she enters. Lucy. 
Oh Lord, there's a man Godmother!  Joyn. 
Come in Child, thou art so bashful—  Lucy. 
My mother is from home too, I dare not.  Joyn. 
If she were here, she'd teach you better manners.  Lucy. 
I'm afraid she'd be angry.  Joyn. 
To see you so much an Ass; come along I say.  Gripe. 
Nay, speak to her gently; if you won't, I will.  Lucy. 
Thank you, Sir.  Gripe. 
Pretty Innocent, there is I see, one left yet of her age; what hap have I! sweet, little Gentlewoman, come and sit down by me.  Lucy. 
I am better bred, I hope, Sir.  Gripe. 
You must sit down by me.  Lucy. 
I'd rather stand, if you please.  Gripe. 
To please me, you must sit, Sweetest.  Lucy. 
Not before my Godmother, sure.  Gripe. 
Wonderment of Innocence!  Joyn. 
A poor bashful Girl, Sir; I'm sorry she is not better taught.  Gripe. 
I am glad she is not taught; I'll teach her myself.  Lucy. 
Are you a Dancing-master then, Sir? but if I should be dull, and not move as you would have me, you would not beat me, Sir, I hope?  Gripe. 
Beat thee, honey Suckle; I'll use thee thus, and thus, and thus; ah, Mrs. joiner, prithee go fetch our Treat now.  Kisses her. Joyn. 
A Treat of a Groat, I will not wag.  Gripe. 
Why don't you go? here, take more money, and fetch what you will; take here, half a Crown.  Joyn. 
What will half a Crown do?  Gripe. 
Take a Crown then, an Angel, a Piece; be gone.  Joyn. 
A Treat only will not serve my turn, I must buy the poor Wretch there some toys.  Gripe. 
What toys? what? speak quickly.  Joyn. 
Pendents, Necklaces, Fans, Ribbons, Points, Laces, Stockings, Gloves—  Gripe. 
Hold, hold, before it comes to a Gown.  Joyn. 
Well remembered, Sir, indeed she wants a Gown, for she has but that one to her back; for your own sake you should give her a new Gown; for variety of Dresses, rouses desire, and makes an old Mistress seem every day a new one.  Gripe. 
For that reason she shall have no new Gown; for I am naturally constant, and as I am still the same, I love she should be still the same; but here take half a piece for the other things.  Joyn. 
Half a Piece—  Gripe. 
Prithee be gone, take t'other Piece then; two Pieces, three Pieces, five; here, 'tis all I have.  Joyn. 
I must have the Broad-Seal Ring too, or I stir not.  Gripe. 
Insatiable Woman, will you have that too?  
Prithee spare me that, 'twas my Grandfathers.  Joyn. 
That's false, he had ne'er a Coat; so now I go; this is but a violent fit, and will not hold. Aside.  Lucy. 
Oh, whither do you go Godmother? will you leave me alone?  Joyn. 
The Gentleman will not hurt you; you may venture yourself with him alone.  Lucy. 
I think I may, Godmother; what, will Ex. joiner. you lock me in, Sir? done't lock me in, Sir.  Fumbling at the door, locks it. Gripe. 
'Tis a private lesson, I must teach you fair.  Lucy. 
I don't see your Fiddle, Sir, where is your little Kitt?  Gripe. 
I'll show it thee presently Sweetest;  
Necessity, Mother of invention; Gripe getting a Chair against the door.  
Come my dearest. Takes her in his arms.  Lucy. 
What do you mean, Sir? done't hurt me, Sir, will you— Oh, Oh, you will kill me! murder, murder, oh, oh— help, help, oh— Cries out.  The door broke open; Enter Crossbite, and two men in Aprons, her Landlord, and his Prentice. Cros. 
What, murder my Daughter Villain?  Lucy. 
I wish he had murdered me, oh, oh—  Cros. 
What has he done?  Lucy. 
Why would you go out, and leave me alone? unfortunate woman that I am.  Gripe. 
How now, what will this end in? Aside.  Cros. 
Who brought him in?  Lucy. 
That Witch, that Treacherous false Woman, my Godmother, who has betrayed me, sold me to his lust; oh, oh—  Cros. 
Have you ravished my Daughter then, you old Goat? ravished my Daughter, ravished my Daughter, speak Villain.  Gripe. 
By yea, and by nay, no such matter.  Cros. 
A canting Rogue too; take notice Landlord, he has ravished my Daughter, you see her all in tears and distraction; and see there the wicked Engine of the Pointing to the Chair. filthy execution; Jeremy, call up my Neighbours, and the Constable, false Villain, thou shalt die for't.  Gripe. 
Hold, hold; nay, I am caught. Aside.  Cros. 
Go, go, make haste—  Lucy. 
Oh, oh—  Cros. 
Poor wretch, go quickly.  Gripe. 
Hold, hold; thou young Spawn of the old Serpent; Wicked, as I thought thee Innocent; wilt thou say I would have ravished thee?  Lucy. 
I will swear you did ravish me.  Gripe. 
I thought so, Treacherous Eve, than I am gone, I must shift as well as I can. Aside.  Lucy. 
Oh, oh—  Cros. 
Will none of you call up the Neighbours, and the Authority of the Alley?  Gripe. 
Hold, I'll give you Twenty Mark among you, to let me go.  Cros. 
Villain, nothing shall buy thy life.  Land. 
But stay, Mrs. Crossbite, let me talk with you.  Lucy. 
Oh, oh—  Land. 
Come, Sir, I am your Friend; in a word, I have appeased her, and she shall be contented with a little sum.  Gripe. 
What is it? what is it?  Land. 
But five hundred pound.  Gripe. 
But five hundred pound; hang me then, hang me rather.  Land. 
You will say I have been your friend.  Pren. 
The Constable, and Neighbours are coming.  Gripe. 
How, how; will you not take a hundred? pray use conscience in your ways. Kneels to Crossbite.  Cros. 
I scorn your money, I will not take a thousand.  Gripe. 
My enemies are many, and I shall be a scandal to the Faithful, as a laughingstock to the wicked; Aside. go, prepare your Engines for my Persecution; I'll give you the best security I can.  Land. 
The instruments are drawing in the other room, if you please to go thither.  Cros. 
Indeed, now I consider; a Portion will do my Daughter more good, than his death; that would but publish her shame; money will cover it, probatum est, as they say— let me tell you, Sir, 'tis a charitable thing to give a young Maid a Portion. Exeunt Omnes.  The Scene changes to Lydias Lodging. Enter Lydia, my Lady Flippant. Lyd. 
'Tis as hard for a woman to conceal her indignation from her apostate Lover, as to conceal her Love from her faithful servant.  Flip. 
Or almost as hard as it is, for the prating fellows now adays, to conceal the favours of obliging Ladies.  Lyd. 
If Ranger should come up, (I saw him just now in the street) the discovery of my anger to him now, would be as mean as the discovery of my love to him before.  Flip. 
Though I did so mean a thing, as to love a fellow, I would not do so mean a thing, as to confess it, certainly, by my trouble to part with him; If I confessed Love, it should be before they left me.  Lyd. 
So you would deserve to be left, before you were; but could you ever do so mean a thing, as to confess love to any?  Flip. 
Yes; but I never did so mean a thing, as really to love any?  Lyd. 
You had once a Husband.  Flip. 
Fie, Madam, do you think me so ill bred, as to love a Husband.  Lyd. 
You had a Widow's heart, before you were a Widow I see.  Flip. 
I should rather make an adventure of my honour, with a Gallant, for a Gown, a new Coach, a Neck-lase, then clap my Husband's cheeks for them, or sit in his lap; I should be as ashamed to be caught in such a posture, with a Husband, as a brisk well bred of the Town, would be, to be caught on his knees at prayers, unless to his Mistress.  To them, Ranger, Dapperwit. Lyd. 
Mr. Ranger, 'twas obligingly done of you.  Ran. 
Indeed Cousin, I had kept my promise with you, last night, but this Gentleman knows—  Lyd. 
You mistake me, but you shall not lessen any favour you do me; you are going to excuse your not coming to me last night, when I take it as a particular obligation, that though you threatened me with a visit, upon consideration you were so civil, as not to trouble me.  Dap. 
This is an unlucky morning with me; here's my eternal persecution, the Widow Flippant. Aside.  Flip. 
What, Mr. Dapperwit!  Ran. 
Indeed Cousin, besides my business, another cause, I did not wait on you, was, my apprehension, you were gone to the Park, notwithstanding your promise to the contrary.  Lyd. 
Therefore, you went to the Park, to visit me there, notwithstanding your promise to the contrary.  Ran. 
Who, I at the Park? when I had promised to wait upon you at your lodging; but were you at the Park, Madam?  Lyd. 
Who, I at the Park? when I had promised to wait for you at home; I was no more at the Park than you were; were you at the Park?  Ran. 
The Park had been a dismal desert to me, notwithstanding all the good company in't; if I had wanted yours.  Lyd. 
Because it has been the constant endeavour of men, to keep women ignorant, they think us so, but 'tis that increases our inquisitiveness, and makes us know them ignorant, as false; he is as impudent a dissembler as the widow Flippant, who is making her importunate addresses, in vain, for aught I see. Aside.  Flippant driving Dapperwit from one side of the Stage, to the other. Flip. 
Dear, Mr. Dapperwit, merciful, Mr. Dapperwit.  Dap. 
Unmerciful, Lady Flippant.  Flip. 
Will you be satisfied?  Dap. 
Won't you be satisfied.  Flip. 
That a Wit should be jealous! that a Wit should be jealous! there's never a brisk young fellow in the Town, though no Wit Heaven knows; but thinks too well of himself, to think ill of his Wife, or Mistress; now that a Wit should lessen his opinion of himself, for shame. Aside to Dapperwit.  Dap. 
I promised to bring you off, but I find it enough to shift for myself— Softly apart to Ranger.  Lyd. 
What, out of breath, Madam?  Flip. 
I have been defending our cause, Madam; I have beat him out of the Pit; I do so mumble these prating, censorious fellows, they call Wits, when I meet with them.  Dap. 
Her Ladyship indeed, is the only thing in Petticoats, I dread, 'twas well for me there was company in the Room; for I dare no more venture myself with her alone, than a Culley that has been bit, dares venture himself in a Tavern, with an old Rook.  Flip. 
I am the revenger of our Sex, certainly.  Dap. 
And the most insatiable one, I ever knew, Madam; I dare not stand your fury longer; Mr. Ranger, I will go before and make a new appointment, with your friends that exppect you at dinner, at the French-house, 'tis fit business, still wait on Love.  Ran. 
Do so— but now I think on't, Sir Thomas goes out of Town this afternoon, and I shall not see him here again these three months.  Lyd. 
Nay, pray take him with you, Sir.  Flyp. 
No, Sir, you shall not take the Gentleman from his Mistress: do not go yet, sweet Mr. Dapperwit. Aside.  Lyd. 
Take him with you, Sir; I suppose his business may be there, to borrow, or win, money, and I ought not to be his hindrance; for when he has none, he has his desperate designs upon that little I have; for want of money, makes as devout Lovers as Christians.  Dap. 
I hope, Madam, he offers you no less security, than his liberty.  Lyd. 
His liberty, as poor a pawn to take up money on, as honour; he is like the desperate Bankrupts of this age, who if they can get people's fortunes into their hands, care not though they spend them in Goal, all their lives.  Flip. 
And the poor crediting Ladies, when they have parted with their money, must be contented with a pitiful composition or starve for all them.  Ran. 
But Widows are commonly so wise, as to be sure their men are solvable, before they trust 'em.  Flip. 
Can you blame 'em; I declare, I will trust no man, pray do not take it ill, Gentlemen; Quacks in their Bills, and Poets in the titles of their Plays, do not more disappoint us, than Gallants with their promises; but I trust none.  Dap. 
Nay, she's a very Jew in that particular; to my knowledge, she'll know her man, over and over again, before she trust him.  Ran. 
Well, my dearest Cousin, good morrow; when I stay from you, so long again, blame me to purpose, and be extremely angry; for nothing can make me amends for the loss of your company, but your reprehension of my absence; I'll take such a chiding, as kindly, as Russian Wives, do beating.  Lyd. 
If you were my Husband, I could not take your absence more kindly, than I do.  Ran. 
And if you were my wife, I would trust you as much out of my sight, as I could, to show my opinion of your virtue.  Flip. 
A well-bred Gentleman, I warrant; will you go then cruel Mr. Dapperwit? Ex. Ranger and Dapperwit.  Lyd. 
Have I not dissembled well, Leonor? Apart.  Leo. 
But, Madam, to what purpose; why do you not put him to his trial, and see what he can say for himself?  Lyd. 
I am afraid lest my proofs, and his guilt, should make him desperate, and so contemn that pardon, which he could not hope for.  Leo. 
'Tis unjust to condemn him, before you hear him.  Lyd. 
I will reprieve him till I have more evidence.  Leo. 
How will you get it?  Lyd. 
I will write him a Letter in Christina's name, desiring to meet him; when I shall soon discover, if his love to her be of a longer standing, then since last night; and if it be not, I will not longer trust him with the vanity, to think she gave him the occasion, to follow her home from the Park; so will at once disabuse him and myself.  Leo. 
What care the jealous take in making sure of ills, which they, but in imagination, cannot undergo.  Lyd. 
Misfortunes are least dreadful, when most near.  
'Tis less to undergo the ill, than fear. Exeunt.    

ACT. IU.  

SCENE. I. Gripe's House.  Enter Mrs. joiner, and Gripe in a Blue Gown and Night Cap. Joyn. 
WHat not well your Worship? this it is, you will be laying out yourself beyond your strength; you have taken a Surfeit of the little Gentlewoman, I find; indeed, you should not have been so immoderate in your embraces, your Worship is something in years, intruly.  Gripe. 
Graceless, Perfidious Woman, what mak'st thou here? art thou not afraid to be used like an Informer, since thou hast made me pay thee for betraying me?  Joyn. 
Betray your Worship, what do you mean? I an Informer, I scorn your words.  Gripe. 
Woman, I say again, thou art as Treacherous as an Informer, and more unreasonable; for he lets us have something for our money, before he disturbs us.  Joyn. 
Your money, I'm sure, was laid out faithfully; and I went away because I would not disturb you.  Gripe. 
I had not grudged you the money I gave you, but the five hundred pound; the five hundred pound, inconscionable false woman; the five hundred pound; you cheated, trappand, robbed me of the five hundred pound.  Joyn. 
I cheat you, I rob you; well, remember what you say, you shall answer it before Mr. Double-Cap, and the best of—  Gripe. 
Oh impudent woman, speak softly!  Joyn. 
I will not speak softly, for innocence is loud, as well as barefaced; is this your return, after you have made me a mere drudge to your filthy lusts?  Gripe. 
Speak softly, my Sister, Daughter and Servants will hear.  Joyn. 
I would have witnesses, to take notice, that you blast my good name, which was as white as a Tulip, and as sweet as the head of your Cane; before you wrought me to the carrying on the work of your fleshly carnal seekings.  Gripe. 
Softly, softly, they are coming in.  Enter Flippant and Martha. Flip. 
What's the matter Brother?  Gripe. 
Nothing, nothing Sister, only the Godly woman is fallen into a fit of Zeal, against the enormous transgressions of the Age; go, go, you do not love to hear vanity reproved; pray be gone.  Joyn. 
Pray stay, Madam, that you may know—  Gripe. 
Hold, hold, here are five Guinies for thee, pray say nothing. Aside. To joiner.  
Sister, pray be gone, I say; would you prejudice your own reputation, to injure mine? Ex. Flippant and Martha.  Joyn. 
Would you prejudice your own Soul to wrong my repute, intruly? She seems to weep.  Gripe. 
Pray have me in excuse; indeed, I thought, you had a share of the five hundred pound, because you took away my Seal Ring, which they made me send, together, with a Note to my Cashkeeper for five hundred pound; besides, I thought none, but you, knew it was my wonted token to send for money by.  Joyn. 
'Twas unlucky I should forget it, and leave it on the Table; but, oh the Harlotry! did she make that use of it then? 'twas no wonder you did not stay till I came back.  Gripe. 
I stayed till the money released me.  Joyn. 
Have they the money then? five hundred pound.  Gripe. 
Too certain.  Joyn. 
They told me not a word of it; and have you no way to retrieve it?  Gripe. 
Not any.  Joyn. 
I am glad of it; Aside. is there no Law but against Saints?  Gripe. 
I will not for five hundred pound, publish my transgression myself; lest I should be thought to glory in't; though, I must confess, 'twould tempt a man to conform to public praying and sinning; since 'tis so chargeable to pray, and sin in private.  Joyn. 
But are you resolved to give off, a loser?  Gripe. 
How shall I help it?  Joyn. 
Nay, I'll see you shall have, what the young jade has; for your money, I'll make 'em use some conscience however; take a man's money for nothing?  Gripe. 
Thou sayst honestly indeed; and shall I have my pennyworths out of the little Gentlewoman for all this?  Joyn. 
I'll be engaged body for body for her, and you shall take the forfeiture on me else.  Gripe. 
No, no, I'll rather take your word, Mrs. joiner.  Joyn. 
Go in and dress yourself Smug, and leave the rest to me.  Gripe. 
No man breathing would give off a loser, as she says.  Exeunt. Enter Sir Simon Addleplot, sitting at a Desk writing as a Clerk, my Lady Flippant jogging him. Sir Sim. 
'Tis a Lord's Mortgage, and therefore requires the more haste; pray do not jog me, Madam.  Flip. 
Dull Rascal. Aside.  Sir Sim. 
They cannot stay for money, as other Folks; if you will not let me make an end on't, I shall lose my expedition fee.  Flip. 
There are some Clerks would have understood me before this. Aside.  Sir Sim. 
Nay, pray be quiet, Madam; if you squeeze me so to the wall, I cannot write.  Flip. 
'Tis much for the honour of the Gentlemen of this Age, that we Persons of Quality are forced to descend to the importuning of a Clerk, a Butler, Coachman, or Footman; while the Rogues are as dull of apprehension too, as an unfledged Country Squire, amongst his Mother's Maids. Aside. Jogs him again.  Sir Sim. 
Again, Let me tell you, Madam, familiarity breeds contempt; you'll never leave, till you have made me saucy.  Flip. 
I would I could see that.  Sir Sim. 
I vow and swear then, get you gone; or I'll add a black patch, or two, to those on your face.  
I shall have no time to get Mrs. Martha out, for her. Aside.  Flip. 
Will you, Sir, will you? Jogs him again.  Sir Sim. 
I must have a plot for her, she is a coy woman.  
Aside. I vow and swear if you pass this Creviss,  
I'll kiss you in plain English.  Flip. 
I would I could see that, do you defy me?  Steps to him. He kisses her. Sir Sim. 
How's this? I vow and swear, she kisses as tamely as Mrs. Ticklish, and with her mouth open too. Aside.  Flip. 
I thought you would have been ashamed, to have done so to your Masters own Sister.  Sir Sim. 
I hope you'll be quiet now, Madam?  Flip. 
Nay, I'll be revenged of you sure.  Sir Sim. 
If you come again, I shall do more to you then that; I'll pursue my plot, and try if she be honest. Aside.  Flip. 
You do more to me then that; nay, if you'll do more to me, then that— She throws down his Ink, and runs out, he follows her.  Enter joiner. Joyn. 
I must visit my young Client's in the mean time.  Sir Simon returns holding up his hands. Joyn. 
What's the matter, Sir Simon?  Sir Sim. 
Lord, who would have thought it?  Joyn. 
What ail you, Sir Simon?  Sir Sim. 
I have made such a discovery, Mrs. joiner.  Joyn. 
What is't?  Sir Sim. 
Such an one, that makes me at once glad, and sorry; I am sorry my Lady Flippant is nought, but i'm glad I know it; thanks still to my disguise.  Joyn. 
Fie, fie.  Sir Sim. 
Nay, this hand can tell—  Joyn. 
But how!  Sir Sim. 
She threw down my Ink glass, and ran away into the next room; I followed her, and in revenge, threw her down upon the bed; but in short, all that I could do to her, would not make her squeak.  Joyn. 
She was out of breath man, she was out of breath.  Sir Sim. 
Ah, Mrs joiner, say no more, say no more of that.  Enter Flippant. Flip. 
You rude, unmannerly Rascal.  Joyn. 
You see she complains now.  Sir Sim. 
I know why, Mrs. joiner, I know why. Apart.  Flip. 
I'll have you turned out of the house, you are not fit for my brother's service.  Sir Sim. 
Not for yours, you mean, Madam. Aside.  Flip. 
I'll go and acquaint my Brother—  Joyn. 
Hold, hold, Madam, speak not so loud, 'tis Sir Simon Addleplot, your Lover, who has taken this disguise on purpose to be near you; and to watch, and supplant his Rivals.  Flip. 
What a beast was I, I could not discover it, you have undone me; why would you not tell me sooner of it. Aside to joiner.  Joyn. 
I thought he had been discernible enough.  Flip. 
I protest I knew him not; for I must confess to you, my eyes are none of the best, since I have used the last new wash of Mercury water; what will he think of me?  Joyn. 
Let me alone with him; come, come, did you think you could disguise yourself from my Lady's knowledge; she knew you man, or else you had ne'er had those liberties; alas, poor Lady, she cannot resist you.  Flip. 
'Tis my weakness.  Sir Sim. 
How's this? but here comes my Master.  Enter Gripe and Martha. Gripe. 
Come, Mrs. joiner, are you ready to go?  Joyn. 
I am ever ready when your Worship commands.  Flip. 
Brother, if you go to tother end of the Town, you'll set me down near the Playhouse.  Gripe. 
The Playhouse, do you think I will be seen near the Playhouse?  Flip. 
You shall set me down in Lincolus-Inn-Fields then, for I have earnest business there; (When I come home again, I'll laugh at you soundly, Sir Simon.) Apart.  Sir Sim. 
Has joiner betrayed me then? 'tis time to look to my hits. Aside.  Gripe. 
Martha, be sure you stay within now; if you go out, you shall never come into my doors again.  Mart. 
No, I will not, Sir; I'll ne'er come into your doors again, if once I should go out.  Gripe. 
'Tis well said. Girl. Ex. Gripe, joiner, Flip.  Sir Sim. 
'Twas prettily said, I understand you, they are dull, and have no intrigue in 'em; but dear, sweet Mrs. Martha, 'tis time we were gone, you have stole away your Scarfs, and Hood from your Maid, I hope.  Mart. 
Nay, I am ready, but—  Sir Sim. 
Come, come, Sir Simon Addleplot, poor Gentleman, is an impatient man to my knowledge.  Mart. 
Well, my venture is great, I'm sure, for a man I know not; but pray Ionas do not deceive me; is he so fine a Gentleman, as you say he is?  Sir Sim. 
Pish, pish, he is the— Gentleman of the Town faith, and troth.  Mart. 
But may I take your word Ionas?  Sir Sim. 
'Tis not my word, 'tis the word of all the Town.  Mart. 
Excuse me, Ionas, for that; I never heard any speak well of him, but Mr. Dapperwit, and you.  Sir Sim. 
That's because he has been a Rival to all men, and a Gallant to all Ladies; Rivals, and deserted Mistresses, never speak well of a man.  Mart. 
Has he been so general in his Amours, his kindness is not to be valued then?  Sir Sim. 
The more by you, because 'tis for you he deserts all the rest, faith and troth.  Mart. 
You plead better for him, than he could for himself; I believe, for indeed they say, he is no better than an Idiot.  Sir Sim. 
Then believe me, Madam, for no body knows him better than I; he has as much Wit, Courage, and as good a Mien to the full, as I have; he an Idiot?  Mart. 
The common Gull, so perspicuous a Fop, the women find him out, for none of 'em will marry him.  Sir Sim. 
You may see now, how he and you are abused; for that he is not Married, is a sign of his Wit; and for being perspicuous, 'tis false, he is as mysterious as a new Parliament man, or a young Statesman, newly taken from a Coffee-house, or Tennis-court.  Mart. 
But is it a sign of his Wit because he is not Married?  Sir Sim. 
Yes, yes, your Women of the Town ravish your Fops; there's not one about the Town unmarried, that has any thing.  Mart. 
It may be then he has spent his Estate.  Sir Sim. 
How unluckily guessed. Aside.  
If he had, he has a head, can retrieve it again.  Mart. 
Besides, they say, he has had the modish distemper.  Sir Sim. 
He can cure it with the best French Chirurgeon in Town.  Mart. 
Has his practice, on himself, been so much?  Sir Sim. 
Come, come.  
Fame, like deserted Jilt, does still belie men,  
Who doubts her man, must be advised by Hymen.  
For he knows best of any, how to try men. Exeunt.  The Scene, The Old Pell Mell. Enter Ranger and Dapperwit. Ran. 
Now the Lucy's have renounced us; hay for the Christina's, she cannot use me worse, than your honourable Mistress did you.  Dap. 
A Pox, some young Heir, or another, has promised her Marriage; there are so many Fools in the world, 'tis impossible for a man of Wit to keep his Wench, from being a Lady, let me perish.  Ran. 
But have you no other acquaintance that sticks to her vocation, in spite of temptations of honour, or filthy lucre; I declare, I make honourable Love, merely out of necessity; as your Rooks play on the square, rather than not play at all.  To them Leonore, Lydias woman masked, with a Letter in her hand. Dap. 
Come, the Devil will not lose a Gamester; here's ready money for you, push freely.  Rang. 
Thou'rt as well met, as if by assignation. To her.  Leon. 
And you are as well met, as if you were the man I looked for.  Rang. 
Kind Rogue—  Leon. 
Sweet Sir.  Rang. 
Come, I am thy Prisoner, (without more words) show but thy warrant. Goes to pull off her Mask.  Leo. 
You mistake, Sir, here is my Pass. Gives him the Letter.  Ran. 
A Letter, and directed to me. Reads.  
I cannot put up the injuries, and affronts you did me last night; (a challenge upon my life, and by such a messenger) therefore conjure you by your Honour, at eight a Clock precisely, this evening, to send your man to St. James' Gate, to wait for me with a Chair, to conduct me, to what place you shall think most fit, for the giving of satisfaction to the injured Christina.  
Christina! I am amazed! what is't a Clock Dapperwit?  Dap. 
It wants not half an hour of eight.  Rang. 
Go then back, my pretty Herald, To the Maid. and tell my fair Enemy, the service she designs my man, is only fit for my Friend here; of whose Faith and Honour, she may be secure of; he shall, immediately, go wait for her at St. James' Gate; whilst I go to prepare a place for our ran-counter, and myself to die at her feet: Ex. Leonore.  
Dapperwit, dear Dapperwit.  Dap. 
What lucky Surprisal's this?  Ran. 
Prithee ask no questions, till I have more leisure, and less astonishment; I know, you will not deny to be an instrument in my happiness.  Dap. 
No, let me perish, I take as much pleasure to bring Lovers together, as an old Woman, that as a Bankrupt Gamester loves to look on, though he has no advantage by the play; or as a Bully that fights not himself, yet takes pleasure to set people together by the ears; or as—  Ran. 
'Sdeath, is this a time for similitudes?  Dap. 
You have made me miscarry of a good thought, now let me perish.  Ran. 
Go presently to St. James' gate, where you are to expect the coming of a Lady, ('tis Christina) accompanied by that woman you saw even now; she will permit you to put her into a Chair, and then conduct her to my lodging, while I go before to remove some Spies, and prepare it for her reception.  Dap. 
Your lodging; had you not better carry her to Vincent's, 'tis hard by, and there a vizard Mask, has as free egress, and regress, as at the Playhouse.  Ran. 
Faith, though it be not very prudent, yet she shall come thither in my vindication; for he would not believe I had seen her last night.  Dap. 
To have a fine woman, and not tell on't, as you say, Mr. Ranger—  Ran. 
Go, and bring her to Vincent's lodging, there I'll expect you. Exeunt severally.  Enter Christina, Isabel, her Woman. Isab. 
This is the door, Madam, here Mr. Vincent lodges.  Chris. 
'Tis no matter, we will pass it by, lest the people of our lodging should watch us; but if he should not be here now.  Isab. 
Who, Mr. Valentine, Madam? I warrant you, my intelligencer dares not fail me.  Chris. 
Did he come last night, said he?  Isab. 
Last night late.  Chri. 
And not see me yet; nay, not send to me; 'tis false, he is not come; I wish he were not, I know not which I should take more unkindly from him, exposing his life to his revengeful Enemies; or being almost four and twenty hours so near me, and not let me know't.  Isab. 
A Lover's dangers, are the only secrets kept from his Mistress; he came not to you, because he would not purchase his happiness with your fear and apprehensions.  Chris. 
Nay, he is come, I see, since you are come about again of his side.  Isab. 
Will you go in, Madam, and disprove me if you can; 'tis better than standing in the street.  Chris. 
We'll go a little farther first, and return. Exeunt.  Vincent 's Lodging. Enter Vincent and Valentine. Vin. 
I told you I had sent my man, to Christina's, this morning, to inquire of her Maid, (who seldom denies him a secret) if her Lady had been at the Park last night; which she peremptorily answered to the contrary, and assured him, she had not stirred out since your departure.  Val. 
Will not Chambermaid's lie, Vincent?  Vin. 
Will not Ranger lie, Valentine?  Val. 
The circumstances of his story proved it true.  Vin. 
Do you think so old a Master in the faculty, as he, will want the varnish of probability for his lies?  Val. 
Do you think a Woman, having the advantage of her Sex, and Education, under such a Mistress, will want impudence to dis-avow a truth, that might be prejudicial to that Mistress?  Vin. 
But if both testimonies are fallible; why will you needs believe his? we are apter to believe the things we would have, than those we would not.  Val. 
My ill luck has taught me to credit my misfortunes, and doubt my happiness.  Vin. 
But Fortune we know inconstant.  Val. 
And all of her Sex.  Vin. 
Will you judge of Fortune by your experience, and not do your Mistress the same justice? go see her, and satisfy yourself and her; for if she be innocent, consider how culpable you are, not only in your censures of her, but in not seeing her since your coming.  Val. 
If she be innocent, I should be afraid to surprise her, for her sake; if false, I should be afraid to surprise her, for my own.  Vin. 
To be jealous, and not inquisitive, is as hard as to love extremely, and not be something jealous.  Val. 
Inquisitiveness as seldom cures jealousy, as drinking in a Fever quenches the thirst.  Vin. 
If she were at the Park last night, 'tis probable she'll not miss this; go watch her house, see who goes out, who in; while I in the mean time search out Ranger; who, I'll pawn my life, upon more discourse, shall avow his mistake; here he is, go in, how luckily is he come?  Enter Ranger. Valentine retires to the door behind, over hearing them. Vin. 
Ranger, you have prevented me; I was going to look you out, between the Scenes at the Playhouses, the Coffee-house, Tennis-Court, or Giffords.  Ran. 
Do you want a pretence to go to a Bawdy-house? but I have other visits to make.  Vin. 
I forget, I should rather have sought you in Christina's lodgings, ha, ha, ha.  Ran. 
Well, well, I am just come to tell you that Christina—  Vin. 
Proves not by daylight, the kind Lady you followed last night out of the Park.  Ran. 
I have better news for you, to my thinking.  Vin. 
What is't?  Ran. 
Not that I have been in Christina's lodging this morning; but that she'll be presently here in your lodging with me.  Val. 
How! behind.  Vin. 
You see now, his report was a jest, a mere jest: Drawing back to the door, where Valentine stood, and speaking softly to him. well, must my lodging be your Vaulting School still; thou hast appointed a Wench to come hither, I find. To Ran.  Ran. 
A Wench; you seemed to have more reverence for Christina last night.  Vin. 
Now you talk of Christina, prithee tell me what was the meaning of thy last night's Romance of Christina.  Ran. 
You shall know the meaning of all, when Christina comes; she'll be here presently.  Vin. 
Who will, Christina?  Ran. 
Yes, Christina.  Vin. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Ran. 
Incredulous envy; thou art as envious, as an impotent Lecher at a Wedding.  Vin. 
Thou art either mad, or as vain as a Frenchman, newly returned home from a Campagn, or obliging England.  Ran. 
Thou art as envious as a Rival; but if thou art mine, there's that will make you desist; Gives him the Letter. and if you are not my Rival; intrusting you with such a secret, will, I know, oblige you to keep it, and assist me against all other interests.  Vin. 
Do you think I take your secret as an obligation? done't, I know, Lovers, Travellers, and Poets, will give money to be heard; but what's the Paper? a Lampoon upon Christina, hatched last night betwixt Squire Dapperwit and you, because her maid used you scurvily.  Ran. 
No, 'tis only a Letter from her, to show, my company was not so disgustful to her last night, but that she desires it again to day.  Val. 
A Letter from her. Behind.  Vin. 
A Letter from Christina; Reads.  
Ha, ha, ha.  Ran. 
Nay, 'tis pleasant.  Vin. 
You mistake, I laugh at you not the Letter.  Ran. 
I am like the winning Gamester, so pleased with my luck, I will not quarrel with any, who calls me a Fool for't.  Vin. 
Is this the stile of a woman of honour?  Ran. 
It may be, for ought you know; I'm sure, 'tis well if your female correspondents can read.  Vin. 
I must confess, I have none of the little Letters, half name, or title, like your Spanish Epistles Dedicatory; but that a man so frequent in honourable Intrigues, as you are, should not know the summons of an impudent common woman, from that of a person of honour.  Ran. 
Christina is so much a Person of Honour, she'll own what she has writ, when she comes.  Vin. 
But will she come hither indeed?  Ran. 
Immediately, you'll excuse my liberty with you; I could not conceal such a happiness, from such a friend as you, lest you should have taken it unkindly.  Vin. 
Faith, you have obliged me indeed; for you, and others would often have made me believe your honourable Intrigues, but never did me the honour to convince me of 'em before.  Ran. 
You are merry, I find, yet.  Vin. 
When you are happy, I cannot be otherwise.  Ran. 
But I lose time, I should lay a little Person in Aside. ambush, that lives hard by, in case Christina should be impatient to be revenged of her Friends, as it often happens with a discontented Heiress; Women like old Soldiers, more nimbly execute, than they resolve. Going out.  Vin. 
What now, you will not dis-appoint a woman of Christina's quality?  Ran. 
I'll be here before she comes, I warrant you. Ex. Ran.  Vin. 
I do believe you truly: what think you Valentine?  Val. 
I think, since she has the courage to challenge him; she'll have the honour of being first in the Field.  Vin. 
Fie, your opinion of her must be as bad, as Rangers of himself is good, to think she would write to him; I long till his bona-roba comes, that you may be both disabused.  Val. 
And I have not patience to stay her coming, lest you should be disabused.  Enter Christina and Isabel. Vin. 
Here she is i'faith; I'm glad she's come.  Val. 
And I'm sorry; but I will to my post again, lest she should say she came to me.  Vin. 
By heavens, Christina herself, 'tis she! Aside.  Christina pulls off her Mask. Val. 
'Tis she; cursed be these eyes, more cursed, then when they first betrayed me, to that false bewitching face. Behind.  Chris. 
You may wonder, Sir, to see me here—  Vin. 
I must confess I do.  Chris. 
But the confidence your Friend has in you, is the cause of mine; and yet some blushes it does cost me, to come to seek a man.  Val. 
Modest creature. Behind.  Vin. 
How am I deceived! Aside.  Chris. 
Where is he, Sir, why does he not appear to keep me in countenance? pray call him, Sir, 'tis something hard if he should know I'm here.  Vin. 
I hardly can, myself, believe you are here, Madam.  Chris. 
If my visit be troublesome, or unseasonable, 'tis your Friend's fault, I designed it not to you, Sir; pray call him out, that he may excuse it, and take it on himself, together with my shame.  Vin. 
How impatient she is! Aside.  Chris. 
Or do you delay the happiness I ask, to make it more welcome? I have stayed too long for it already, and cannot more desire it; dear Sir, call him out, where is he? above, or here within? I'll snatch the favour which you will not give: Goes to the door, and discovers Valentine. What do you hide yourself for shame?  Val. 
I must confess I do.  Chris. 
To see me come hither—  Val. 
I acknowledge it. Val. offers to go out.  Chris. 
Before you came to me; but whither do you go? come I can forgive you.  Val. 
But I cannot forgive you.  Chris. 
Whither do you go? you need not forge a quarrel, to prevent mine to you; nor need you try if I would follow you; you know I will, I have you see.  Val. 
That impudence should look so like innocence. Aside.  Chris. 
Whither would you go? why would you go?  Val. 
To call your servant to you.  Chris. 
She is here, what would you with her?  Val. 
I mean your Lover, the man you came to meet.  Chris. 
Oh heavens! what Lover? what Man? I came to seek no man but you, whom I had too long lost.  Val. 
You could not know that I was here.  Chris. 
Ask her, 'twas she that told me. Points to Isabel.  Val. 
How could she know?  Chris. 
That you shall know hereafter.  Val. 
No, you thought me too far out of the way, to disturb your assignation; and I assure you, Madam, 'twas my ill fortune, not my design; and that it may appear so, I do withdraw, (as in all good breeding, and civility, I am obliged) for sure your wished for Lover's coming.  Chris. 
What do you mean? are you a weary of that title?  Val. 
I am ashamed of it, since it grows common. Going out.  Chris. 
Nay, you will not, shall not go.  Val. 
My stay might give him jealousy, and so do you injury, and him the greatest in the world; Heavens forbid! I would not make a man jealous; for though you call a thousand vows, and oaths, and tears, to witness, (as you safely may) that you have not the least of love for me; yet if he ever knew, how I have loved you, sure he would not, could not believe you.  Chris. 
I do confess, your Riddle is too hard for me to solve; therefore you are obliged to do't yourself.  Val. 
I wish it were capable of any other interpretation, than what you know already.  Chris. 
Is this that generous good Valentine, who has disguised him so. She weeps.  Vin. 
Nay, I must withhold you then: Stops Val. going out. methinks she should be innocent; her tongue, and eyes, together, with that flood that swells 'em, do vindicate her heart.  Val. 
They show but their long practice of desimulation.  Going out. Vin. 
Come back; I hear Ranger coming up; stay but till he comes.  Val. 
Do you think I have the patience of an Alderman?  Vin. 
You may go out this way, when you will, by the back-stairs; but stay a little, till— Oh, here he comes.  Ranger enters. Val. 
My revenge will now detain me. Valen. retires again.  Upon Rangers entrance, Christina puts on her Mask. Ran. 
What, come already? where is Dapperwit? Aside.  
The blessing's double that comes quickly; I did not yet expect you here, otherwise I had not done myself the injury to be absent; but I hope, Madam, I have not made you stay long for me.  Chris. 
I have not stayed at all for you.  Ran. 
I am glad of it, Madam.  Chris. 
Is not this that troublesome stranger, who To Isabel. last night followed the Lady into my lodgings? 'tis he. Aside.  Removing from him to t'other side. Ran. 
Why does she remove so disdainfully from me? Aside.  
I find you take it ill, I was not at your coming here, Madam.  Chris. 
Indeed I do not, you are mistaken, Sir.  Rang. 
Confirm me by a smile then, Madam; remove that Cloud, which makes me apprehend Goes to take off her Mask. foul weather: Mr. Vincent, pray retire; 'tis you keep on the Lady's Mask, and no displeasure, which she has for me; yet, Madam, you need not distrust his honour, or his faith; but do not keep the Lady under constraint; pray leave us a little Master Vincent.  Chris. 
You must not leave us, Sir; would you leave me with a stranger?  Val. 
How's that! Behind.  Ran. 
I've done amiss, I find, to bring her hither, Aside. Madam, I understand you— Apart to Christina.  Chris. 
Sir, I do not understand you.  Ran. 
You would not be known to Mr. Vincent.  Chris 
'Tis your acquaintance I would avoid.  Ran. 
Dull Brute, that I was, to bring her hither: Aside. I have found my error, Madam; give me but a new appointment, where I may meet you by and by, and straight I will withdraw, as if I knew you not. Softly to her.  Chris. 
Why, do you know me?  Ran. 
I must not own it. Aside.  
No Madam, but— Offers to whisper.  Chris. 
Whispering, Sir, argues an old acquaintance; but I have not the vanity to be thought of yours, and resolve you shall never have the disparagement of mine: Mr. Vincent, pray let us go in here.  Ran. 
How's this! I am undone I see; but if I let her go thus, I shall be an eternal laughing stock to Vincent.  Vin. 
Do you not know him, Madam? I thought you had come hither on purpose to meet him.  Chris. 
To meet him.  Vin. 
By your own appointment.  Chris. 
What strange infatuation does delude you all? you know, he said, he did not know me.  Vin. 
You writ to him, he has your Letter.  Chris. 
Then you know my name sure? yet you confessed but now, you knew me not.  Ran. 
I must confess, your anger has disguised you, more than your Mask; for I thought to have met a kinder Christina here.  Chris. 
Heavens! how could he know me in this place? he watched me hither sure; or is there any other of my name, that you may no longer mistake me, for your Christina? I'll pull of that which soothes your error. Pulls off her Mask.  Ran. 
Take but t'other vizard off too; I mean your anger, and I'll swear you are the same, and only Christina, which I wished, and thought to meet here.  Chris. 
How could you think to meet me here?  Ran. 
By virtue of this your Commission, Gives her the Letter. which now, I see, was meant a real challenge; for you look, as if you would fight with me.  Chris. 
The Paper is a stranger to me, I never writ it; you are abused.  Vin. 
Christina is a Person of Honour, and will own what she has written, Ranger.  Ran. 
So, the Comedy begins; I shall be laughed at sufficiently, if I do not justify myself; I must set my impudence to hers, she is resolved to deny all I see, and I have lost all hope of Aside. her.  Vin. 
Come, faith Ranger—  Ran. 
You will deny too, Madam, that I followed you last night from the Park, to your lodging, where I stayed with you till morning; you never saw me before I warrant?  Chris. 
That you rudely intruded, last night, into my lodging, I cannot deny; but I wonder you have the confidence to brag of it; sure you will not of your reception?  Ran. 
I never was so ill-bred, as to brag of my reception in a Lady's Chamber; not a word of that, Madam.  Val. 
How! if he lies, I revenge her; if it be true, I revenge myself.  Valentine draws his Sword, which Vincent seeing, thrusts him back, and shuts the door upon him before he was discovered by Ranger. Enter Lydia and her Woman, stopping at the door. Lyd. 
What do I see! Christina with him! a Counterplot to mine, to make me, and it, ridiculous; 'tis true, I find they have been long acquainted, and I long abused; but since she intends a triumph, in spite, as well as shame (not emulation) I retire; she deserves no envy, who will be shortly in my condition; his natural inconstancy, will prove my best revenge on her— on both. Exeunt Lydia with her Woman.  Dapperwit to them. Dap. 
Christina's going away again; what's the matter?  Ran. 
What do you mean?  Dap. 
I scarce had paid the Chair-men, and was coming up after her, but I met her on the stairs, in as much haste, as if she had been frighted.  Ran. 
Who do you talk of?  Dap. 
Christina, whom I took up in a Chair, just now at Saint Jamses' Gate.  Ran. 
Thou art mad, here she is, this is Christina.  Dap. 
I must confess, I did not see her face; but I am sure the Lady is gone, that I brought just now.  Ran. 
I tell you, again, this is she; did you bring two?  Chris. 
I came in no Chair, had no guide, but my woman there.  Vin. 
When did you bring your Lady, Dapperwit?  Dap. 
Even now, just now.  Vin. 
This Lady has been here half an hour.  Ran. 
He knows not what he says, he is mad, you are all so, I am so too.  Vin. 
'Tis the best excuse you can make for yourself, and by owning your mistake, you'll show you are come to yourself; I myself saw your woman at the door, who but looked in, and then immediately went down again, as your friend Dapperwit too affirms.  Chris. 
You had best follow her, that looked for you; and I'll go seek out him, I came to see; Mr. Vincent, pray let me in here.  Ran. 
'Tis very fine, wondrous fine!  Christina goes out a little, and returns. Chris. 
Oh he is gone! Mr. Vincent, follow him; he were yet more severe to me, in endangering his life, then in his censures of me; you know the power of his Enemies is great, as their malice; just Heaven preserve him from them, and me from this ill, or unlucky man. Ex. Christina, her Woman, and Vincent.  Ran. 
'Tis well— nay, certainly, I shall never be master of my Senses more; but why dost thou help to distract me too?  Dap. 
My astonishment was as great as yours, to see her go away again; I would have stayed her if I could.  Ran. 
Yet, again, talking of a woman you met going out, when I talk of Christina.  Dap. 
I talk of Christina too.  Ran. 
She went out just now; the woman you found me with, was she.  Dap. 
That was not the Christina I brought just now.  Ran. 
You brought her, almost, half an hour ago; 'sdeath, will you give me the lie?  Dap. 
A Lady disappointed by her Gallant, the night before her journey, could not be more touchy with her Maid, or Husband, than you are with me now, after your dis-appointment; but if you thank me so, I'll go serve myself hereafter; for aught I know, I have disappointed Mrs. Martha for you, and may lose thirty thousand pound by the bargain: farewell, a raving Lover is fit for solitude. Ex. Dap.  Ran. 
Lydia, triumph, I now am thine again; of Intrigues, honourable or dishonourable, and all sorts of rambling, I take my leave; when we are giddy, 'tis time to stand still: why should we be so fond of the by-paths of Love? where we are still way-layed, with Surprises, Trapans, Dangers, and Murdering disappointments:  
Just as at Blindman's Buff, we run at all,  
Whilst those that lead us, laugh to see us fall;  
And when we think, we hold the Lady fast,  
We find it but her Scarf, or Veil, at last. Exeunt.    

ACT. V.  

SCENE. I. St. James' Park.  Enter Sir Simon Addleplot, leading Mrs. Martha, Dapperwit. Sir Sim. 
AT length, you see, I have freed the Captive Lady, for her longing Knight. Mr. Dapperwit, who brings off a Plot cleverly now.  Dap. 
I wish our Poets were half so good at it; Mrs. Martha, a thousand welcomes—  Dapperwit Kisses and Embraces Mrs. Martha. Sir Sim. 
Hold, hold, Sir; your joy is a little too familiar, (faith and troth.)  Dap. 
Will you not let me salute Mrs. Martha?  Mart. 
What Ionas, do you think I do not know good breeding? must I be taught by you?  Sir Sim. 
I would have kept the Maidenhead of your lips, for your sweet Knight, Mrs. Martha, that's all; I dare swear, you never kissed any man before, but your Father.  Mart. 
My sweet Knight, if he will be a Knight of mine, must be contented with what he finds, as well as other Knights.  Sir Sim, 
So smart already, faith and troth!  Mart. 
Dear, Mr. Dapperwit, I am overjoyed to see you; but I thank honest Ionas fort.  Sir Sim. 
How she hugs him! Aside.  Mart. 
Poor, Mr. Dapperwit, I thought I should never have seen you again; but I thank honest Ionas there—  She hugs Dapperwit. Sir Sim. 
Do not thank me, Mrs. Martha, any more than I thank you.  Mart. 
I would not be ungrateful, Ionas.  Sir Sim. 
Then reserve your kindness, only, for your Worthy Noble, Brave, Heroic Knight; who loves you only, and only deserves your kindness.  Mart. 
I will show my kindness to my Worthy, Brave, Heroic Knight, in being kind to his Friend, his dear Friend, who helped him to me. Hugs Dap. again.  Sir Sim. 
But, Mistress Martha, he is not to help him always; though he helps him to be married, he is not to help him when he is married.  Mart. 
What, Mr. Dapperwit, will you love my worthy Knight, less after marriage, than before? that were against the custom; for marriage gets a man friends, instead of losing those he has.  Dap. 
I will ever be his Servant, and yours; Dear, Madam, do not doubt me.  Mart. 
I do not, sweet, dear, Mr. Dapperwit; but I should not have seen you these two days, if it had not been for honest Ionas, there— She Kisses Dap.  Sir Sim. 
For shame, though she be young and foolish, do not you wrong me to my face. Apart to Dap.  Dap. 
Would you have me so ill bred, as to repulse her innocent kindness; what a thing it is to want Wit! Aside.  Sir Sim. 
A Pox, I must make haste to discover myself, or I shall discover, what I would not discover; but if I should discover myself in this habit, 'twould not be to my advantage; but I'll go, put on my own clothes, and look like a Knight: Aside. Well, Mrs. Martha, I'll go seek out your Knight; are you not impatient to see him? To her.  Mart. 
Wife's must be obedient, let him take his own time.  Sir Sim. 
Can you trust yourself, a turn or two, with Master Dapperwit?  Mart. 
Yes, yes, Ionas, as long as you will.  Sir Sim. 
But I would not trust you with him, if I could help it; Aside.  
So married Wight, sees what he dares not blame;  
And cannot budge for fear, nor stay for shame. Ex. S. Sim.  Dap. 
I am glad he is gone, that I may laugh; 'tis such a miracle of Fops, that his conversation should be pleasant to me, even when it hindered me of yours.  Mart. 
Indeed, i'm glad he is gone too, as pleasant as he is.  Dap. 
I know why, I know why, sweet Mrs. Martha; I warrant you, you had rather have the Parson's company, then his? now you are out of your Father's house, 'tis time to leave being a Hypocrite.  Mart. 
Well, for the jests sake, to dis-appoint my Knight, I would not care if I disappointed myself of a Ladyship.  Dap. 
Come, I will not keep you on the Tenters, I know you have a mind to make sure of me; I have a little Chaplain, I wish he were a Bishop, or one of the Friars, to perfect our revenge upon that Zealous Jew, your Father.  Mart. 
Do not speak ill of my Father, he has been your friend, i'm sure.  Dap. 
My Friend—  Mar· 
His hard usage of me, conspired with your good Mien, and Wit, and to avoid slavery under him, I stoop to your yoke.  Dap. 
I will be obliged to your Father, for nothing but a portion, nor to you for your love; 'twas due to my merit.  Mart. 
You show yourself Sir Simons original, if 'twere not for that vanity—  Dap. 
I should be no wit, 'tis the badge of my calling; for you can no more find a man of wit without vanity, than a fine woman without affectation: But let us go, before the Knight comes again.  Mart. 
Let us go before my Father comes, he soon will have the intelligence.  Dap. 
Stay, let me think a little. Pauses.  Mart. 
What are you thinking of? you should have thought before this time, or, I should have thought rather.  Dap. 
Peace, peace.  Mart. 
What are you thinking of?  Dap. 
I am thinking, what a Wit without vanity is like; he is like—  Mart. 
You do not think we are in a public place, and may be surprised, and prevented by my Father's Scouts.  Dap. 
What, would you have me lose my thought?  Mart. 
You would rather lose your Mistress, it seems.  Dap. 
He is like— I think i'm a Sot to night, let me perish.  Mart. 
Nay, if you are so in love with your thought.  Offers to go. Dap. 
Are you so impatient to be my Wife? he is like— he is like— a Picture without shadows, or, or— a Face without Patches— or a Diamond without a Foil; these are new thoughts now, these are new.  Mart. 
You are wedded already to your thoughts, I see, good night.  Dap. 
Madam, do not take it ill;  
For loss of happy thought, there's no amends.  
For his new jest, true Wit will lose old Friends.  
That's new again, the thought's new. Exeunt.  Enter Gripe, leading Mrs. Lucy, joiner, Crossbite following. Gripe. 
Mrs. joiner, I can conform to this mode of public walking by Moonlight, because one is not known.  Lucy. 
Why, are you ashamed of your company?  Gripe. 
No, Pretty one; because in the dark, or as it were the dark, there is no envy, nor scandal; I would neither lose you, nor my reputation.  Joyn. 
Your reputation; indeed, your Worship, 'tis well known, there are as grave men, as your Worship; nay, men in office too, that adjourn their cares, and businesses, to come and unbend themselves at night here, with a little vizard mask.  Gripe. 
I do believe it, I do believe it, Mrs. joiner.  Lucy. 
I Godmother, and carries, and treats her at Mulberry Garden.  Cros, 
Nay, does not only treat her, but gives her his whole gleanings of that day.  Gripe. 
They may, they may Mrs. Crossbite, they take above six in the hundred.  Cros. 
Nay, there are those of so much worth, and honour, and love, that they'll take it from their Wives and Children, to give it to their Misses; now your Worship has no Wife, and but one Child.  Gripe. 
Still for my Edification. Aside.  Joyn. 
That's true indeed, for I know a great Lady, that cannot follow her Husband abroad to his Haunts, because her Farrendine is so ragged and greasy; whilst his Mistress is as fine as sippence, in her embroidered Satins.  Gripe. 
Politicly done of him indeed; if the truth were known, he is a Statesman by that, umph—  Cros. 
Truly, your women of quality, are very troublesome to their Husbands; I have heard 'em complain, they will allow them no separate maintenance, though the honourable Jilts, themselves, will not marry without it.  Joyn. 
Come, come, Mistress, sometimes 'tis the craft of those Gentlemen, to complain of their Wives expenses, to excuse their own narrowness to their Misses; but your Daughter has a Gallant can make no excuse.  Gripe. 
So Mrs. joiner— my friend Mrs. joiner—  Cros. 
I hope, indeed, he'll give my Daughter no cause to dun him; for, poor wretch, she is as modest as her Mother.  Gripe. 
I profess, I believe it.  Lucy. 
But, I have the boldness to ask him for a Treat; come Gallant, we must walk towards the Mulberry Garden.  Gripe. 
So— I am afraid, little Mistress, the rooms are all taken up by this time.  Joyn. 
Will you shame yourself again? Aside to Gripe.  Lucy. 
If the rooms be full, we'll have an arbour.  Gripe. 
At this time of night; besides, the Waiters will ne'er come near you.  Lucy. 
They will be observant of good Customers, as we shall be; come along.  Gripe. 
Indeed, and verily, little Mistress, I would go, but that I should be forsworn, if I did.  Joyn. 
That's so pitiful an excuse—  Gripe. 
In truth, I have forsworn the place, ever since I was pawned there for a reckoning.  Lucy. 
You have broken many an Oath for the good old cause, and will you boggle at one for your poor, little Miss? come along.  Lady Flippant behind. Flip. 
Unfortunate Lady, that I am! I have left the Herd on purpose to be chased, and have wandered this hour here; but the Park affords not so much as a satire for me, (and that's strange) no Burgundy man, or drunken Succourer will reel my way; the Rag-women, and Synder-women, have better luck than I— but who are these? if this mongrel light does not deceive me, 'tis my brother, 'tis he, there's Joiner too, and two other women; I'll follow 'em; it must be he, for this world hath nothing like him; I know not what the Devil may be in the other. Ex. Omnes.  Enter Sir Simon Addleplot in fine clothes, Dapperwit, and Mrs. Martha, unseen by him at the door. Sir Sim. 
Well, after all my seeking, I can find those I would not find; i'm sure 'twas old Gripe, and Joiner with him, and the Widow followed; he would not have been here, but to have sought his Daughter, sure; but vigilant Dapperwit has spied him too, and has, no doubt, secured her from him.  Dap. 
And you. Behind.  Sir Sim. 
The Rogue is as good at hiding, as I am at stealing a Mistress; 'tis a vain conceited fellow, yet I think, 'tis an honest fellow: but again, he is a damnable Whoring fellow; and what opportunity this air, and darkness may incline 'em to, Heaven knows; for I have heard the Rogue say himself, a Lady will no more show her modesty in the dark, than a Spaniard his courage.  Dap. 
Ha, ha, ha—  Sir Sim. 
Nay, if you are there my true Friend, I'll forgive your harkening, if you'll forgive my censures? I speak to you, dear, Madam Martha; dear, dear— Behold your worthy Knight.  Mar. 
That's far from neighbours.  Sir Sim. 
I's come to reap the fruit of all his labours.  Mart. 
I cannot see the Knight; well, but i'm sure I hear Ionas.  Sir Sim. 
I am no Ionas, Mrs. Martha.  Mart. 
The night is not so dark, nor the Perruque so big, but I can discern Ionas.  Sir Sim. 
Faith and troth, I am the very Sir Simon Addleplot, that is to marry you; the same, Dapperwit solicited you for; ask him else, my name is not Ionas.  Mart. 
You think my youth, and simplicity, capable of this cheat; but let me tell you, Ionas, 'tis not your borrowed clothes, and title, shall make me marry my Fathers man.  Sir Sim. 
Borrowed title; I'll be sworn I bought it of my Landress, who was a Court Landress; but, indeed, my clothes I have not paid for, therefore in that sense they are borrowed.  Mart. 
Prithee, Ionas, let the jest end, or I shall be presently in earnest.  Sir Sim. 
Pray be in earnest, and let us go; the Parson, and Supper, stay for us, and I am a Knight in earnest.  Mart. 
You a Knight, insolent, saucy Fool?  Sir Sim. 
The Devil take me, Mrs. Martha, if I am not a Knight now; a Knight Baronet too: a man aught, I see, to carry his Patent in his Pocket, when he goes to be married, 'tis more necessary than a Licence; I am a Knight indeed, and, indeed now, Mrs. Martha.  Mart. 
Indeed, and indeed, the trick will not pass, Ionas.  Sir Sim. 
Poor wretch, she's afraid, she shall not be a Lady: come, come, discover the Intrigue, Dapperwit—  Mart. 
You need not discover the Intrigue, 'tis apparent already; unworthy Mr. Dapperwit, after my confidence reposed in you; could you be so little generous, as to betray me to my Father's man? but I'll be even with you.  Sir Sim. 
Do not accuse him, poor man, before you hear him; tell her the intrique man.  Dap. 
A Pox, she will not believe us.  Sir Sim. 
Will you not excuse yourself? but I must not let it rest so; know then Mrs. Martha—  Mart. 
Come, I forgive thee before thy confession, Ionas; you never had had the confidence to have designed this cheat upon me, but from Mr. Dapperwits' encouragement, 'twas his Plot.  Sir Sim. 
Nay, do not do me that wrong, Madam.  Mart. 
But since he has trapaned me out of my Father's house, he is like to keep me as long as I live; and so good night, Ionas.  Sir Sim. 
Hold, hold, what d'y ' mean both? prithee tell her I am Sir Simon, and no Ionas.  Dap. 
A Pox, she will not believe us, I tell you.  Sir Sim. 
I have provided a Parson, and Supper, at Mulberry Garden, and invited all my Friends I could meet in the Park.  Dap. 
Nay, rather than they shall be disappointed, there shall be a Bride and Bridegroom, to entertain 'em; Mrs. Martha, and I'll go thither presently.  Sir Sim. 
Why, shall she be your Bride?  Dap. 
You see she will have it so.  Sir Sim. 
Will you make Dapperwit your Husband?  Mart. 
Rather than my Fathers man.  Sir Sim. 
Oh the Devil—  Mart. 
Nay, come along Ionas, you shall make one at the Wedding, since you helped contrive it.  Sir Sim. 
Will you cheat yourself, for fear of being cheered?  Mart. 
I am desperate now.  Sir Sim. 
Wilt thou let her do so ill a thing, Dapperwit, as to marry thee? open her eyes, prithee, and tell her I am a true Knight.  Dap. 
'Twou'd be in vain, by my life, you have carried yourself so like a natural Clerk— and so adieu good Ionas.  Ex. Martha, and Dapperwit. Sir Sim. 
What, ruined by my own Plot, like an old Cavalier: yet like him too, I will plot on still, a plot of prevention, so I have it— her Father was here even now, i'm sure; well— I'll go tell her Father of her, that I will;  
And punish so her folly, and his treachery,  
Revenge is sweet, and makes amends for lechery. Ex.  Enter Lydia, and her Woman Leonore. Lyd. 
I wish, I had not come hither to night, Leonore.  Leon. 
Why did you, Madam? if the place be so dis-agreeable to you.  Lyd. 
We cannot help visiting the place often, where we have lost any thing we value; I lost Ranger here last night.  Leon. 
You thought you had lost him before, a great while ago; and therefore you ought to be the less troubled.  Lyd. 
But 'twas here, I missed him first, i'm sure.  Leon. 
Come, Madam, let not the loss vex you, he is not worth the looking after.  Lyd. 
It cannot but vex me yet, if I lost him by my own fault.  Leon. 
You had but too much care to keep him.  Lyd. 
It often happens, indeed, that too much care, is as bad as negligence; but I had rather be robbed, then lose what I have carelessly.  Leon. 
But, I believe, you would hang the Thief, if you could.  Lyd. 
Not if I could have my own again.  Leon. 
I see, you would be too merciful.  Lyd. 
I wish I were tried.  Leon. 
But, Madam, if you please, we will wave the discourse; for people seldom (I suppose) talk with pleasure, of their real losses.  Lyd. 
'Tis better then to ruminate in them; mine, i'm sure, will not out of my head, nor heart.  Leon. 
Grief is so far from retrieving a loss, that it makes it greater; but the way to lesson it, is, by a comparison with others losses; here are Ladies, in the Park, of your acquaintance, I doubt not, can compare with you; pray, Madam, let us walk and find 'em out.  Lyd. 
'Tis the resentment, you say, makes the loss great, or little; and then i'm sure, there is none like mine; however go on. Exeunt.  Enter Vincent and Valentine. Vin. 
I am glad I have found you, for now I am prepared to lead you out of the dark, and all your trouble; I have good news.  Val. 
You are as unmerciful, as the Physician, who with new Arts, keeps his miserable Patient alive, and in hopes, when he knows the disease is incurable.  Vin. 
And you, like the melancholy Patient, mistrust, and hate your Physician, because he will not comply with your despair: but I'll cure your jealousy now.  Val. 
You know, all Diseases grow worse by relapses.  Vin. 
Trust me once more.  Val. 
Well, you may try your experiments upon me.  Vin. 
Just as I shut the door upon you, the woman, Ranger, expected, came up stairs; but finding another woman in discourse with him, went down again, I suppose, as jealous of him, as you of Christina.  Val. 
How does it appear she came to Ranger?  Vin. 
Thus, Dapperwit came up after, who had brought her, just then, in a Chair from St. Jamses', by Rangers appointment; and it is certain your Christina came to you.  Val. 
How can that be? for she knew not I was in the Kingdom.  Vin. 
My man confesses, when I sent him to inquire of her woman, about her Lady's being here in the Park last night; he told her you were come, and she, it seems, told her Mistress.  Val. 
That might be— Aside. But did not Christina confess, Ranger was in her lodging last night?  Vin. 
By intrusion, which she had more particularly informed me of, if her apprehensions of your danger had not posted me after you; she not having yet (as I suppose) heard of Clerimonts' recovery: I left her, poor creature, at home, distracted with a thousand fears for your life and love.  Val. 
Her love, i'm sure, has cost me more fears, than my life; yet that little danger is not past, (as you think) till the great one be over.  Vin. 
Open but your eyes, and the Fantastic Goblin's vanished, and all your idle fears, will turn to shame; for Jealousy, is the basest cowardice.  Val. 
I had rather, indeed, blush for myself, then her.  Vin. 
I'm sure you will have more reason—  
But is not that Ranger there?  Ranger enters, followed by Christina and her Woman, after them, Lydia and her Woman. Val. 
I think it is.  Vin. 
I suppose, his friend Dapperwit is not far off; I will examine them both before you, and not leave you so much, as the shadow of a doubt; Rangers astonishment at my lodging, confessed his mistake.  Val. 
His astonishment might proceed from Christina's unexpected strangeness to him.  Vin. 
He shall satisfy you now himself to the contrary, I warrant you, have but patience.  Val. 
I had rather, indeed, he should satisfy my doubts, than my revenge; therefore I can have patience.  Vin. 
But what women are those that follow him?  Val. 
Stay a little—  Ran. 
Lydia, Lydia— poor Lydia.  Lyd. 
If she be my Rival, 'tis some comfort yet, To her Maid. to see her follow him, rather than he her.  Leon. 
But if you follow them a little longer, for your comfort, you shall see them go hand in hand.  Chris. 
Sir, Sir— To Ranger.  Leon. 
She calls to him already.  Lyd. 
But he does not hear, you see; let us go a little nearer.  Vin. 
Sure it is Ranger?  Val. 
As sure as the woman that follows him closest, is Christina.  Vin. 
For shame, talk not of Christina; I left her just now at home, surrounded with so many fears and griefs, she could not stir.  Val. 
She is come, it may be, to divert them here in the Park; I'm sure 'tis she.  Vin. 
When the Moon, at this instant, scarce affords light enough to distinguish a man from a tree, how can you know her?  Val. 
How can you know Ranger, then?  Vin. 
I heard him speak.  Val. 
So you may her too; I'll secure you, if you will draw but a little nearer: she came, doubtless, to no other end but to speak with him; observe—  Chris. 
Sir, I have followed you hitherto; To Ranger. but now, I must desire you to follow me out of the company, for I would not be overheard, nor disturbed.  Ran. 
Ha! is not this Christina's voice? it is I am sure, I cannot be deceived now— dear Madam—  Vin. 
It is she indeed. Apart to Val.  Val. 
Is it so?  Chris. 
Come, Sir— To Ranger.  Val. 
Nay, I'll follow you too, though not invited, Aside.  Lyd. 
I must not, cannot stay behind. Aside. Exeunt.  They all go off together in a huddle, hastily; Christina, her Woman, and Valentine, return on the other side. Chris. 
Come along, Sir.  Val. 
So I must stick to her when all is done; her new servant has lost her in the crowd, she has gone too fast for him; so much my revenge is swifter than his love: now shall I not only have the deserted Lovers revenge, of dis-appointing her of her new man; but an opportunity infallibly at once, to discover her falseness, and confront her impudence. Aside.  Chris. 
Pray come along, Sir, I am in haste.  Val. 
So eager, indeed— I wish that Cloud may yet withhold the Moon, that this false Woman, may not discover me, before I do her. Aside.  Chris. 
Here no one can hear us, and i'm sure we cannot see one another.  Val. 
'Sdeath, what have I giddily run myself upon?  
'Tis rather a trial of myself then her;  
I cannot undergo it. Aside.  Chris. 
Come nearer, Sir.  Val. 
Hell and vengeance, I cannot suffer it, I cannot. Aside.  Chris. 
Come, come; yet nearer, pray come nearer.  Val. 
It is impossible, I cannot hold; I must discover myself, rather than her infamy.  Chris. 
You are conscious, it seems, of the wrong you have done me, and are ashamed, though in the dark.  Speaks, walking slowly. Val. 
How's this! Aside.  Chris. 
I'm glad to find it so; for all my business with you, is to show you your late mistakes, and force a confession from you, of those unmannerly injuries you have done me.  Val. 
What! I think she's honest; or does she know me? sure she cannot. Aside.  Chris. 
First, your intrusion, last night, into my lodging, which I suppose, has begot your other gross mistakes.  Val. 
No, she takes me for Ranger, I see again. Aside.  Chris. 
You are to know then, (since needs you must) it was not me you followed last night to my lodging, from the Park, but some Kinswoman of yours, it seems; whose fear of being discovered by you, prevailed with me to personate her, while she withdrew, our Habits and our Statures being much alike; which I did with as much difficulty, as she used importunity to make me; and all this, my Lady Flippant can witness, who was then with your Cousin.  Val. 
I am glad to hear this— Aside.  Chris. 
Now, what your claim to me, at Mr. Vincent's lodging meant; the letter, and promises, you unworthily, or erroneously laid to my charge, you must explain to me and others, or—  Val. 
How's this! I hope I shall discover no guilt but my own; she would not speak in threats to a Lover— Aside.  Chris. 
Was it because you found me in Mr. Vincent's lodgings, you took a liberty to use me, like one of your common Visitants? But know, I came no more to Mr. Vincent, then to to you; yet, I confess, my visit was intended to a man— A brave man, till you made him use a woman ill, worthy the love of a Princess; till you made him censure mine; good as Angels, till you made him unjust; why— in the name of honour, would you do't?  Val. 
How happily, am I disappointed! poor injured Christina. Aside.  Chris. 
He would have sought me out first, if you had not made him fly from me; our mutual love, confirmed by a contract, made our hearts inseparable; till you rudely, if not maliciously, thrust in upon us, and broke the close, and happy knot: I had lost him before for a month, now for ever. She weeps.  Val. 
My joy, and pity, makes me as mute, as my shame; yet I must discover myself. Aside.  Chris. 
Your silence, is a confession of your guilt.  Val. 
I own it. Aside.  Chris. 
But that will not serve my turn; for straight you must go clear yourself, and me, to him you have injured in me; if he has not made too much haste from me, to be found again; you must, I say, for he is a man that will have satisfaction; and in satisfying him, you do me.  Val. 
Then he is satisfied.  Chris. 
How! is it you? then I am not satisfied.  Val. 
Will you be worse than your word?  Chris. 
I gave it not to you.  Val. 
Come, dear Christina, the Jealous, like the Drunkard, has his punishment, with his offence.  To them Vincent. Vin. 
Valentine, Mr. Valentine.  Val. 
Vincent—  Vin. 
Where have you been all this while?  Valentine holds Christina by the hand, who seems to struggle to get from him. Val. 
Here, with my injured Christina.  Vin. 
She's behind with Ranger, who is forced to speak all the tender things himself; for she affords him not a word.  Val. 
Pish, pish, Vincent, who is blind now? who deceived now?  Vin. 
You are, for I'm sure Christina is with him; come back and see.  They go out at one door, and return at the other. Ranger to Lydia. Ran. 
Still mocked, still abused! did you not bid me follow you, where we might not be disturbed, nor overheard? and now not allow me a word?  Vincent to Valentine. Vin. 
Did you hear him? Apart to Val.  Val. 
Yes, yes, peace— Apart to Vin.  Rang. 
Disowning your Letter, and me, at Vincent's lodging, declaring you came to meet another there, and not me; with a great deal of such affronting unkindness, might be reasonable enough, because you would not intrust Vincent with our love; but now, when no body sees us, nor hears us, why this unseasonable shyness?—  Lyd. 
It seems, she did not expect him there, but had appointed to meet another; I wish it were so. Aside.  Ran. 
I have not Patience; do you design thus to revenge my intrusion into your lodging last night? sure if you had then been displeased with my company, you would not have invited yourself to't again by a Letter? or is this a punishment for bringing you to a house, so near your own, where, it seems, you were known too? I do confess, it was a fault; but make me suffer any Penance, but your Silence, because it is the certain mark of a Mistress's lasting displeasure—  Lyd. 
My cue is not yet come. Aside.  Ran. 
Not yet a word? you did not use me so unkindly last night, when you chid me out of your house, and with indignation bid me be gone; now, you bid me follow you, and yet will have nothing to say to me; and I am more deceived this day and night, than I was last night; when, I must confess, I followed you for another.—  Lyd. 
I'm glad to hear that. Aside.  Ran. 
One that would have used me better; whose love, I have ungratefully abused for yours; yet from no other reason, but my natural inconstancy—  
Poor Lydia, Lydia— Aside.  Lyd. 
He muttered my name sure, and with a sigh. Aside.  Ran. 
But as last night, by following (as I thought) her, I found you: so this night, by following you in vain, I do resolve, if I can find her again, to keep her for ever.  Lyd. 
Now I am obliged, and brought in debt to his inconstancy; faith, now cannot I hold out any longer, I must discover myself. Aside.  Ran. 
But, Madam, because I intent to see you no more, I'll take my leave of you for good and all; since you will not speak, I'll try if you will squeak—  Goes to throw her down, she squeeks. Lyd. 
Mr. Ranger, Mr. Ranger—  Vin. 
Fie, fie, you need not ravish Christina sure, that loves you so.  Ran. 
Is it she! Lydia all this while? how am I gulled, and. Vincent in the Plot too?  Lyd. 
Now false Ranger.  Ran. 
Now false Christina too; you thought I did not know you now, because I offered you such an unusual civility.  Lyd. 
You knew me, I warrant you knew too, that I was the Christina you followed out of the Park last night; that I was the Christina that writ the Letter too.  Ran. 
Certainly, therefore I would have taken my revenge, you see, for your tricks.  Val. 
Is not this the same woman that took refuge in your house last night, Madam? To Christina.  Chris. 
The very same.  Val. 
What, Mr. Ranger, we have chopped, and changed, and hid our Christina's so long, and often, that at last, we have drawn each of us our own?  Ran. 
Mr. Valentine in England! the truth on't is, you have juggled together, and drawn without my knowledge; but since she will have it so, she shall wear me for good and all now.  Goes to take her by the hand. Lyd. 
Come not near me.  Ran. 
Nay, you need not be afraid, I would ravish you, now I know you.  Lyd. 
And yet, Leonore, I think 'tis but justice, to pardon the fault, I made him commit? Apart to Leonore, Ranger listens.  Ran. 
You consider it right, Cousin; for indeed, you are but merciful to yourself in it.  Lyd. 
Yet, if I would be rigorous, though I made the blot, your oversight has lost the game.  Ran. 
But 'twas rash woman's play, Cousin, and ought not to be played again, let me tell you. Dap. to them.  Dap. 
Who's there? who's there?  Ran. 
Dapperwit.  Dap. 
Mr. Ranger, I am glad I have met with you; for I have left my Bride just now, in the house at Mulberry Garden, to come and pick up some of my Friends in the Park here, to sup with us.  Ran. 
Your Bride! are you married then? where is your Bride?  Dap. 
Here at Mulberry Garden, I say, where you, these Ladies, and Gentlemen, shall all be welcome, if you will afford me the honour of your company.  Ran. 
With all our hearts; but who have you married, Lucy?  Dap. 
What, do you think I would marry a Wench? I have married an Heiress worth thirty thousand pound, let me perish.  Vin. 
An Heiress worth thirty thousand pound!  Dap. 
Mr. Vincent, your servant, you here too?  Ran. 
Nay, we are more of your acquaintance here (I think) go, we'll follow you, for if you have not dismissed your Parson, perhaps we may make him more work. Exeunt.  The Scene changes to the Dining-room, in Mulberry-Garden-house. Enter Sir Simon Addleplot, Gripe, Mrs. Martha, joiner, Crossbite, Lucy. Sir Sim. 
'Tis as I told you, Sir, you see.  Gripe. 
Oh graceless Babe, married to a Wit! an idle, loitering, slandering, foul-mouthed, beggarly Wit; Oh that my child should ever live to marry a Wit!  Joyn. 
Indeed, your Worship had better seen her fairly buried, as they say.  Cross. 
If my Daughter, there, should have done so, I would not have gi'n her a groat.  Gripe. 
Marry a Wit!  Sir Sim. 
Mrs. joiner, do not let me lose the To joiner. Widow too; for if you do, (betwixt friends) I and my small annuity are both blown up; it will follow my estate. Aside.  Joyn. 
I warrant you. Aside.  Flip. 
Let us make sure of Sir Simon to night, To joiner. or— Aside.  Joyn. 
You need not fear it, like the Lawyers, while my Clients endeavour to cheat one another; I in justice cheat' emboth. Aside.  Gripe. 
Marry a Wit!  Enter Dapperwit, Ranger, and Lydia, Valentine, Christina, and Vincent. Dapperwit stops 'em, and they stand all behind. Dap. 
What is he here, Lucy and her Mother? Aside.  Gripe. 
Tell me how thou cam'st to marry a Wit?  Mart. 
Pray be not angry, Sir, and I'll give you a good reason.  Gripe. 
Reason for marrying a Wit!  Mart. 
Indeed, I found myself six months gone with Child, and saw no hopes of your getting me a Husband, or else I had not married a Wit, Sir.  Joyn. 
Then you were the Wit.. Aside.  Gripe. 
Had you that reason? nay, then—  Holding up his hands. Dap. 
How's that! Aside.  Ran. 
Who would have thought, Dapperwit, you would have married a Wench? Aside.  Dap. 
Well, thirty thousand pound will make me amends; I have known my betters wink, and fall on for five or six. To Ran. What, you are come, Sir, to give me joy? To Gripe and the rest. you Mrs. Lucy, you, and you? well, unbid guests are doubly welcome—  
Sir Simon, I made bold to invite these Ladies, To Sir Simon. and Gentlemen, for you must know, Mr. Ranger, this worthy Sir Simon, does not only give me my Wedding Supper, but my Mistress too; and is as it were my Father.  Sir Sim. 
Then I am as it were a Grandfather to your new Wives, hans en kelder; to which you are but as it were a Father; there's for you again, Sir— ha ha—  Ran. 
Ha, ha, ha— To Vincent.  Dap. 
Fools sometimes say unhappy things, if we would mind 'em, but— what, Melancholy at your Daughter's Wedding, Sir?  Gripe. 
How deplorable is my condition? Aside.  Dap. 
Nay, if you will rob me of my Wench, Sir, can you blame me for robbing you of your Daughter? I cannot be without a Woman.  Gripe. 
My Daughter, my Reputation, and my Money gone— but the last is dearest to me; yet at once I may retrieve that, and be revenged for the loss of the other; and all this by marrying Lucy here: I shall get my five hundred pound again, and get Heirs to exclude my Daughter, and frustrate Dapperwit; besides, 'tis agreed on all hands, 'tis cheaper keeping a Wife then a Wench. Aside.  Dap. 
If you are so melancholy, Sir, we will have the Fiddles, and a Dance to divert you; come.  A Dance. Gripe. 
Indeed, you have put me so upon a merry pin, that I resolve to marry too.  Flip. 
Nay, if my Brother come to marrying once, I may too; I swore I would, when he did, little thinking—  Sir Sim. 
I take you at your word, Madam.  Flip. 
Well, but if I had thought you would have been so quick with me—  Gripe. 
Where is your Parson?  Dap. 
What, you would not revenge yourself upon the Parson?  Gripe. 
No, I would have the Parson revenge me upon you; he should marry me.  Dap. 
I am glad you are so frolic, Sir; but who would you marry?  Gripe. 
This innocent Lady. Pointing to Lucy.  Dap. 
That innocent Lady?  Gripe. 
Nay, I am impatient, Mrs. joiner, pray fetch him up, if he be yet in the house.  Dap. 
We were not married here; but you cannot be in earnest.  Gripe. 
You'll find it so; since you have robbed me of my Housekeeper, I must get another.  Dap. 
Why? she was my Wench.  Gripe. 
I'll make her honest then.  Cross. 
Upon my repute he never saw her before: but will your Worship marry my Daughter then?  Gripe. 
I promise her, and you, before all this good company, to morrow I will make her my Wife.  Dap. 
How!  Rang. 
Our Ladies, Sir, I suppose, expect the same To Val. promise from us.  Val. 
They may be sure of us without a promise; but let us (if we can) obtain theirs, to be sure of them.  Dap. 
But will you marry her to morrow?— To Gripe.  Gripe. 
I will verily.  Dap. 
I am undone then, ruined let me perish.  Sir Sim. 
No, you may hire a little room in Covent-Garden, and set up a Coffee-house; you, and your Wife, will be sure of the Wit's custom.  Dap. 
Abused by him, I have abused!  
Fortune our foe, we cannot over-wit,  
By none but thee, our projects are Cross-bit.  Val. 
Come, dear Madam, what yet angry? jealousy sure is much more pardonable before marriage, then after it; but to morrow, by the help of the Parson, you will put me out of all my fears.  Chris. 
I am afraid than you would give me my revenge, and make me jealous of you; and I had rather suspect your faith, than you should mine.  Ran. 
Cousin Lydia, I had rather suspect your faith too, than you should mine; therefore let us even marry to morrow, that I may have my turn of watching, doging, standing under the window at the door, behind the hanging or—  Lyd. 
But if I could be desperate now, and give you up my liberty; could you find in your heart to quit all other engagements, and voluntarily turn yourself over to one woman, and she a Wife too? could you away with the insupportable bondage of Matrimony?  Ran. 
You talk of Matrimony as irreverently, as my Lady Flippant; the Bondage of Matrimony, no—  
The end of Marriage, now is liberty,  
And two are bound— to set each other free.     

ERRATA.  
PAge 3. line 11. read of a Woman, p. 4. l. 3. r. Is he here? p. 14. l. 9 r. this Jilt. p. 23. l. 2. r. lead her, p. 25. l. 9 r. she, p. 36. l. 20. r. Ran. five doors off on the right hand, p. ●0. l. 23. r. into the Playhouse, p. 40. l. 27. r. sick with envy, p. 52. l. 1. r. setting a Chair, p. 84. l. 1. r. ruminate on them.   

Epilogue  Spoken by Dapperwit. 
NOW my Brisk Brothers of the Pit, you'll say,  
I'm come to speak a good word for the Play;  
But (Gallants) let me perish, if I do,  
For I have Wit, and judgement, just like you;  
Wit never partial, judgement free and bold,  
For fear or friendship never bought or sold,  
Nor by good Nature, e'er to be Cajoled.  
Good Nature in a Critic were a crime,  
Like mercy in a Judge, and renders him  
Guilty of all those faults, he does forgive:  
Besides, if Thief from Gallows you reprieve,  
He'll cut your Throat; so Poet saved from shame,  
In damned Lampoon, will murder your good name.  
Yet in true spite to him, and to his Play,  
(Good faith) you should not rail at 'em to day;  
But to be more his Foe, seem most his Friend,  
And so maliciously, the Play commend,  
That he may be betrayed to Writing on,  
And Poet let him be, to be undone.  
FINIS.