THE Country Innocence: OR, THE Chambermaid TURNED QUAKER. A COMEDY. With Alterations and Amendments.  
As it is now ACTED at the THEATRE-ROYAL.  
Written by JOHN LEANERD.  
Licenced, Apr. 6. 1677. Roger L'Estrange.  
LONDON: Printed for Charles Harper, at the Flower-de-luce, over against St. Dunstan's-Church in Fleetstreet. 1677.   

To his Honoured Friend Sir FRANCIS HINCHMAN.  
IN my juvenile Years, when I had the Honour of being your School-fellow, you not only encouraged my Fancy, but gave me such Instructions, as I may boldly say, raised me to this Height of Presumption; and although I dare not reckon myself amongst the Number of those who daily Rival each other for their Endeared Mrs. Laureate, yet I durst presume in the defence of my Country Innocence, to put in for a small share of that Great Glory, especially since ushered into th' World under your Noble Patronage. That she will meet in this lewd Age with a thousand Inconveniencies, and severe Censures, some of which may, perhaps, blast her Virgin Purity; yet being under your Protection, I make no doubt, will arm her so against th' Assaults of Malice, that she need no more fear the Envy of a Private Censurer, than on the Stage she did the Honour of her Royal Auditors.  
It was a happiness I did not hope for to have her Cause tried by Majesty and Goodness; but since you still were happy in all your Undertake, I made no doubt (you Applauding th' effect of a few lazy hours) but Fortune would save me from that severe Damnation, the Critics Noise and Nonsense: Though Arrogance, and Impudence, are an Author's chief dependency, yet Modesty and Bashfulness shall proclaim how much I fear the Rigour of this Censorious Age.  
Sir, I am sensible, I come far short, both of Merit and those Commendations, you were pleased to bestow upon me, since this trifling piece, I'm sure can merit neither; Howe'er it must needs be much to my satisfaction to have acquired the honour of your love and liking, and as this is the first I ever ventured to undertake, I hope it will not be the last you will do me the honour to Protect.  
Self-Love in Poetry is much like Self-Affection in a Woman, who shall communicate with her Glass a whole day together, and never find (though she be most deformed) the least Object that may proclaim her Odious.  
After I had begun this Piece, and had finished the two first Acts, I was doubtful whether I should make any farther progression, till by fortune, you came in and gave me such good Encouragement, I flew to make an End: Which makes me say with Homer: 
Inspired with Friendship, and your good Advice,  
I strove to please the Age, though ne'er so nice.   
And that's the hardest Task a man can undertake, especially in this Age, where Wit consists only in gaudy , monstrous French Dances, and damned dull Machine's. A Play cannot be made without a Painter, nor expect Applause unless your gentile Frenchman teaches their Feet more Nonsense, than their Tongues that day can utter; those are the Toys now Please.  
But for you, who understand the very soul of Plays, and can by the Person guests at his Works, were pleased to like this Ancient way of Writing, and though I have not those taking Graces which the World admires, yet you were pleased to like my Country Innocence, in its homely dress, as well as those fine Plays composed of Noise and Ornament.  
Sir, I keep you by my Impertinence from your more serious Studies, and from that which you may better like than these rude Lines. Yet I hope as you have hitherto encouraged me, you will not now condemn him who writ more to please you than himself, hoping by that means to Ingratiate myself more into your favour than ever, and without offence, presume to write myself,  
Sir, the most Constant Admirer of You and your Merits, Your Servant to Command, JOHN LEANERD.   

TO THE READERS.  
YOu may imagine, That I am vainglorious in thus Crowding a Play into the World, before 'twas scarce acquainted with it; but when you, as well as I, know the Reason, you will not blame my haste. I think there is scarce any that used to see Plays, but went (nay crowded) to help a new Author into th' World, and I think (without Ostentation) never was House more thronged; what Applause it had, I'll leave to your Censuring, not daring to blaze my own Merits. The first, second, and other times it was Acted, I think lost me no Credit, but as Fortune never for a Continuance stays with one person, so at length she Jaded me, robbing me of the Honour of my Plays continuance for that time; by a Mischance which happened to one, whose Part was too considerable to be quickly studied.  
This I thought fit to acquaint the World withal, that it might take off those calumnious and false Reproaches, the Critics of this Age would throw upon me.  
But Gentlemen, to you I speak, who judge more for Affection, than for Justice, be not severe to One ne'er writ before; use him but as kindly as you do your Mistress, the first Night of your Enjoyment, and then I need not fear, had I a thousand Enemies.  
And you, sage serious Judges, who damn all Plays this Age has yet produced, learn to be kind to one you never saw; Applaud him, though in whispers, and he'll strive, ere long, to give you thanks in that Degree, which you most wish, and he doth most desire, that is, in once more bringing before you the Works,  
GENTLEMEN, of one, who desires to be your Obliging Servant, JOHN LEANERD.   

PROLOGUE:  Spoken by Mr. CLARK. 

AS a young Girl that's newly come to Town,  
And in her Russet wanders up and down,  
Ventures her Maidenhead for half a Crown,  
So our young Poet with his first Design  
Hazards his Credit for a Pint of Wine.  
Honour's grown wondrous cheap, as well as Plays;  
I Gad, both are worth nothing, now adays,  
Since every Fop presumes to wear the Bays.  
Never was Wit so much abused before;  
The Trade's grown common, and the Jilting Whore's  
Debauched in every Street, at every Door.  
You men of Wit, of Honour, and Renown,  
Those little Fops, the Monsters of the Town,  
To be thought witty, with their Noise cry down.  
But let that pass; Damn all those men of sense,  
Whose Wit consists in Noise and Impudence.  
Our Fate's so hard, and you are so severe,  
To hiss and rail, is all your Business here.  
The Visor-Masks you mind, and not the Wit;  
Talk Bawdy, and Debauch yourselves i' th' Pit.  
Then in a rage, as if your Wit was scared,  
You damn the Play, though scarce a Word you heard.  
Pray let Good Nature, now that slighted Miss,  
Whisper the Wits, and beg 'em not to hiss.  
For those whose Wit consists in gaudy ,  
In vamping Old, and studying New Oaths,  
I'll leave, until their want of Noise and Sense  
Damn 'em beyond their own Impertinence.    

Actor's Names.  

SIr Oliver Bellingham,— Mr. Lydell.  
Sir Robert Malory,— Mr. Coysh.  
Captain Mullineux,— Mr. Goodman.  
Plush,— Mr. Wiltshire.  
Rash,— Mr. Griffin.  
Gregory Dwindle,— Mr. Haynes.  
Mr. William,— Mr. Powel.  
Old Thrashard,— Mr. Watson.  
Abraham his Son,— Mr. Styles.  
Two Servants.  
Shepherds and Shepherdesses.  
A Constable and Watchmen.  
Six Morris Dancers, and Fiddlers.   

WOMEN.  
Lady Lovely, a Widow,— Mrs. Marshal.  
Lady Malory,— Mrs. Rutter.  
Margaret and Gillian, Daughters to Thrashard.— Sarah Cook.  
Barbara, Lady Lovely's Maid,— Mrs. Knep.  
Old Gentlewoman,— Mr. Perrin.    

THE Country Innocence. OR, THE Chambermaid turned QUAKER.  

ACT. I.  Enter Sir Oliver and Mr. William. Mr. Will. 
BElieve me, Sir, I have told you what you Worship may most certainly trust to.  Sir Oliv. 
May I not speak with her?  Mr. Will. 
You know my place— there's no more hope from the deep pit of Grief, to raise in her any conceit of Love, than there's to raise her Husband up again from the cold Bed he sleeps in. Take this for all: My Lady, Sir, has vowed to live and die a Widow— So I leave you.  Ex. Mr. Will. Sir Oliv. 
Is't possible? Well, I know not! but if she has made such a Vow, and keep it! to find out such another and a Phoenix, is but an equal labour.  Enter Mr. Rash. Rash. 
Save you Sir Oliver.  Sir Oliv. 
As much to you, kind Mr. Rash.  Rash. 
You have been with the Widow, this melancholy Lady already. Give you much joy of your fair hopes, Sir Oliver.  Sir. Oliv. 
As much to yourself Sir, kind Mr. Rash.  Rash. 
I'll hope as much as I can, though you are a Knight, and I but an honest Citizen: A Mercer is a Merchant, and will look for good Ware for his money.  Knocking within at the door. Sir Oliv. 
If he should enter now; I'll see the issue.  Enter Mr. William. Rash. 
You know my coming to speak with your Lady Mr. William:  Mr. Will. 
But she's not at leisure to hear you.  Rash. 
I hope you do but Jest.  Mr. Will. 
Believe me, Sir, in Earnest.  Rash. 
But I'll not take't in Earnest.  Mr. Will. 
But you must.  Offers to go to the door. 
Though you are a Citizen, you are not free of this Hall, and therefore must have no admittance.  Exit Mr. Will. Sir Oliv. 
Give you much Joy of your fair hopes. Another—  Enter Plush. Plush. 
Save you Gentlemen: how is't Mr. Rash?  Rash. 
As well as may be Mr. Plush.  Plush. 
You have got the start of me, I see that Gentlemen; a Suit brought me home this Morning made me stay somewhat the longer; but my Tailor's Bill, like a Woodcock as he is, shall be so much the longer a paying— you have been within?  Rash. 
In our time.  Plush. 
I mean this Morning.  Rash. 
But the Lady means no such thing, Sir.  Sir Oliv. 
We heard of your Worship's new Suit, and would not go in before it.  Plush. 
I'll lead the way then.  Knocks at the door. Enter Mr. William. 
Mr. William good Morrow, good Morrow sweet Mr. William: and where's the Lady? you see we come to come to her.  Mr. Will. 
By your favour, Sir, you are too hasty.  Plush. 
Why, is not the Lady up yet?  Mr. Will. 
Not for you to take her down Sir. Farewell.  Plush. 
This Fellow's saucy.  Ex. Mr. Will. Sir Oliv. 
Minds not your Worship's new Suit; but we must be content.  Rash. 
We may be patiented, Sir, but not content; for nothing contents me but the Lady.  Enter Sir Robert Mallory. Sir Rob. 
Who have we here, Mr Plush, Mr. Rash? I dare be so bold as embrace you two— but my Noble Sir, my SIR of a Thousand per Annum.  Plush. 
Why, I can be a Knight an I list Sir.  Rash. 
And I can be Knight an I list Sir.  Sir Rob. 
Dubbed with the City Dagger— then Rash would be rash indeed: you come to see my Sister? 'Las good hearts! Methinks the Gates of themselves should fly  to such brave men as you are.  Sir. Oliv. 
You have the Old Heart still, Sir.  Sir Rob. 
The Young Heart still Sir Oliver— the Mad Heart, the Merry Heart— the Light Heart, with the Candle of Conceit burning in it as bright as Lucifer, Hesper and Vesper: you have not been within? I'll turn out this pair of Asses, and then you shall see my Sister. I perceive by your melancholy looks, my melancholy, pettish, peevish Sister is not at this time to be spoke withal. 'Tis such a foolish Thing;— she knows not Worth, nor how to entertained: suffice it Gentlemen, I do; and shall not go behind her back to let her know your Merits: and in a just proportion to that Merit, that mass of Merit, you shall find her favour: So Mr. Push and Mr. Rash I shall desire you to leave us.  Both 
You'll remember.  Sir Rob. 
Shall I remember (Gentlemen) to eat, to sleep, to drink? then I'll remember you—  Ex. Plush and Rash. Sir Oliv. 
Then?— when Sir Robert?  Sir Rob. 
When I am asleep— awake I shall never mind 'em, for their Worships are hardly worth it.  Sir Oliv. 
Yes in a just proportion to their merit.  Enter Abraham. Sir Rob. 
Yes, that's just nothing— hang 'em Glow-Worms, hang 'em.  Sir Oliv. 
Here's another Rub in our Alley, Sir.  Sir Rob. 
A Tenant's Son of mine— and how does my honest Abraham?  Abr. 
The better your good Worship is well Sir; I was to seek your good Worship, at your Right Worshipful House Sir; but missing you there, I rejoice I have met with you here.  Sir Rob. 
Why? what's the matter? Abr'am, what's the matter?  Abr. 
In the way of Love, as they say, from my Father and my Sister, and my t'other Sister too— you know who I mean Sir Robert.  Sir Rob. 
Thy scolding Sister?  Abr. 
You are in the right.  Sir Rob. 
And how does Margaret my Pretty Tenant?  Abr. 
That Pretty One is pretty well Sir.  Sir Oliv. 
Remember me to her by this.  Gives him a Ring. 
Within this day or two at the farthest I should breathe a Gelding; it may be that way, and visit my Pretty Tenant.  Abr. 
Long may your Worship's Gelding breath, and your Worshipful Self also. I am in haste Sir Robert.  Sir Rob. 
Take your own time, Good Abram.  Abr. 
Thank your good Worship Sir Robert.  Sir Rob. 
I have done your Patience wrong,  Ex. congying. 
Indeed I have; but the best that lies in me to right it, you shall command. Now to my Sister.  Knocks at the door. 
Now where's my Sister?  Enter Mr. William. Mr. Will. 
She's within Sir Robert.  Sir Rob. 
Come then, let's to her.  Mr. Will. 
You must pardon me: she's so retired to Solitude, and set so deep in grief, that till her sighs and tears will give her leave to entertain such worthy Visitants, 'tis her strict command that no man enter.  Sir Rob. 
Not myself?  Mr. Will. 
Yourself, Sir, if you would not swell her grief too big for her faint Breast to carry; give her way, a little time may change her.  Exit. Sir Rob. 
'Tis enough— you see Sir Oliver:  Sir. Oliv. 
Your love, Sir Robert.  Sir Rob. 
But, as her Gentleman discreetly said;  
A little time may change her: We must still  
In such a kind humour win a Woman's will.  Exeunt. Enter Mr. William and Barbara. Mr. Will. 
Come, thou makest such a matter of nothing.  Bab. 
Nothing, do you call it? I know not, but I'm sure I feel something— 'tis almost kicking ripe already.  Mr. Will. 
Almost kicking ripe?— come, come, thou art a Chambermaid still:— and I prithee what's this but a Work that belongs to the Chamber?  Bab. 
Well, you will not marry me?  Mr. Will. 
And hazard my place with my Lady— and yet now I think on't— I will—  Bab. 
Marry me?  Mr. Will. 
To some of my Old Acquaintance: there are Hundreds in the City that have swallowed worse bits than thou art.  Exit Mr. Will. Enter Lady Lovely in Mourning veiled, Lady Mallory and Old Gentlewoman. Lov. 
Urge me no more; but let the Love you seem to show be expressed in Words, that better suit with such a Robe as this, and my immutable resolve.  Mall. 
Then I persuade in vain, yet whilst you live (encompassed thus with sorrow and solitude) a Widow you seem to voice to the ill censuring World some imperfection in yourself. 'Tis true, you lost a worthy Gentleman, myself a Noble Brother; yet if you loved him living, love him dead; then I am sure you'll cast all sorrow off, and cease to wrong yourself.  Old Gentle. 
Mark you that now?  Mall. 
'Tis the best Tombstone you can lay upon him; the noblest Monument you can erect; and to that Monument an Epitaph, shall make him live for ever.  Old Gentle. 
Law you there now!— shall make him live for ever!— you are not dumb tho?— are you?  Lov. 
Would thou wert, or I had lost my hearing; I can wish nothing so adverse to me, as your Tongues: and therefore if your Visits bring with them nothing but these persuasions—  Mall. 
Keep away.  Old Gentle. 
Nay, as speak't as think it.— Here's a coil for a Husband, I have had for my own part— 1-2-3-4, and yet if the fifth come up handsomely to me, I know what I I know, I warrant you.  Mall. 
How! Five!  Old Gentle. 
Fifteen, if the Destinies had so decreed it.  Enter Mr. William. Mr. Will. 
Madam, there be Suitors below to see you. Mr. Rash the Mercer— one Plush a humorous Gallant, and a spick and span new Suitor a Country Gentleman, one Mr. Gregory Dwindle.  Old Gentle. 
Spruce Mr. Rash I know.  Mall. 
And I, Mr. Plush, a notable humorous Coxcomb: but what's that Gregory?  Mr. Will. 
Unknown to me; but believe me, together they make up a delicate Motion.— Is your Ladyship pleased to see 'em?  Lov. 
Present your Motion somewhere else, my Griefs give way to no such lightness.  Mr. Will. 
I'll tell 'em what you say.  Is going. Mall. 
Pray stay a little, I know 〈…〉 o'er are but empty things; not worth our serious thoughts yet Sister, pray let 'em Enter, let 'em look upon you.  Lov. 
Still your desire's my trouble.  Old Gentle. 
Come, come, pray: you are so melancholy.  Mall. 
Why, their mirth will be a means to Cure you.  Lov. 
Kill me rather.  Old Gentle. 
Go, bid 'em come.  Lov. 
Bid 'em be gone.  Mall. 
Nay, than you are too Cruel: Stay.  Lov. 
Sister, if you know no other Merriment, than what you raise from my vexation, take it, I will not hinder your Desires; pray take it.  Old. Gentle. 
You will not leave us, will you?  Lov. 
Yes.  Mall. 
And go mew yourself up in your Chamber, like a cloistered Nun, there waste away your tedious Hours in sighs, and spend the Day in groans: for my part, I am altogether for Mirth and open Air; a Prison can't content me— but Sister, before you go, let me entreat one favour of you.  Lov. 
What is't?  Mall. 
That in your absence you'd be pleased to let your Waiting Gentlewoman appear in your Apparel: 'tis but slipping off this upper Garment, and this Mourning Veil, and she's my Lady.  Mr. Will. 
How? my Bab, my Lady?  Mall. 
It will be sport to us, and to yourself a rare advantage, Sister.  Lov. 
Though pleasure be no pleasure to this Bosom, since you propose the acquittance of that trouble, your desire's granted.  Mall. 
But be speedy then with your directions for her carriage in it.  Ex. Lady Lovely, Bab, and Mr. William. Old Gentle. 
Did you ever see such a self-willed Thing as this is? a Widow this two months, and yet not hear of a Suitor.  Enter Mr. William, Rash, Plush, and Gregory. Mr. Will. 
The Gentlemen, an't please you.  Greg. 
Yes indeed, an't please you.  Old Gentle. 
Mr. Rash!  Rash. 
Your Servant, Gentlewoman.  Mall. 
Mr. Plush!  Plush. 
My name is Plush. Master my Title, and Sir a Title that may be.  Greg. 
And my name is Gregory.  Plush. 
Fop— the sound is out of season— but where's the Lady?  Rash. 
I, where's the Lady?  Greg. 
We would see the Lady.  Plush. 
I hope she has done Mourning now, has she not?  Greg. 
Why, does the Lady Mourn?  Mr. Will. 
Indeed she does.  Greg. 
'Tis a delicate thing to Mourn.— Well, an my Father would but die once!— would we could see this Lady.  Enter Bab, like Lady Lovely veil. Old Gentle. 
You have your wish already.  Rash. 
Beauteous Lady.  Plush. 
Most beauteous Lady.  Greg. 
Most beautiful Lady that may be: for yet I see no such matter.  Plush. 
Thy Eyes are veiled with Ignorance, or else, through this thin veil, thou mightst as we,— behold matter of admiration!— you'll vouchsafe;— not yet.  Bab. 
Alas!— upon their captive Heart, my sorrows yet have set too strong a Guard for such delights to enter.  Plush. 
I could wish, that Conqueror of thy Heart and all his Guard were visible, that I might challenge them.  Mr. Will. 
I marry Sir, that were a challenge indeed.  Plush. 
Methinks I could— do—  Mall. 
What do you think you could do Sir?  Plush. 
O— my most delicate Lady!  Mr. Will. 
Do his most delicate Lady; a terrible Do indeed.  Old'Gentlew. 
Well Lady; if this be the man shall have you, you shall have a Man I can tell you.  Greg. 
If I be the Man that shall have her, she shall have a Man I can tell you.  Old Gentlew. 
But he's a fight man.  Greg. 
A fight man? Let him play at the Ancient Weapon, an he were a Fencing Man, I'll have about with him.  Mall. 
The Ancient Weapon!— what Weapon's that?  Greg. 
Why this.  Show his hand. Mr. Will. 
As Wise as Valiant; 'tis the Ancient Weapon indeed Sir.  Mall. 
And why not this?—  Shows his Sword. Greg. 
I am better acquainted with this.  Plush. 
Well, we shall meet?  Greg. 
And meet again: tell me of fight— Lady!  Old Gentlew. 
I see you are valiant Sir;— and you are happy in having so much Valour as you see attend your Beauty.  To Bab. Bab. 
I must confess them Worthy Gentlemen; but they must pardon me;— the Worth that I have lost in my dead Husband, is so full and fresh upon my understanding:— that all else have but homely entertainment— and yet you are welcome Gentlemen.  All three. 
For that we thank you.  Rash. 
We must hope still.  Greg. 
Well, and my Father would but die once! I live hope too Lady.  Mr. Will. 
You see their Valour Sir,— and what's your Weapon?  Rash. 
I am no man of the Sword— I have no Weapon.  Old Gentlew. 
How Sir, no Weapon?  Mr. Will. 
What should you do in Cupid's Fencing-School, and have no Weapon?  Rash. 
There was a Time I could have crossed a Cudgel; and if any man strike me, I have a Weapon too.  Mr. Wil 
The coldest Flint has fire I see: what Weapon?  Rash. 
One that is indeed all Weapons, Long Sword, Sword and Dagger, Sword and Buckler, Single Rapier and Dagger, Halberd, Half-pike, Quarterstaff, Short Sword and Gauntlet, and that terrible Fly-flap the Falchion.  Mr. Wil 
All these in one?  Rash. 
Or one that's worth all these, and that in a word is the Law.  Mr. Wil 
A terrible Weapon indeed.  Rash. 
There, let me firk 'em, and jerk 'em; there, let me stand upon terms; there, let me play the Master, and Mr. Attorney my Usher, and then with all the Weapons in that School have at 'em.  Enter Sir Robert and Sir Oliver. Mr. Wil 
This goes heyond your Rapier, or that Ancient Weapon the Fist.  Mall. 
We are betrayed: my Husband and Sir Oliver.  Bab. 
What's to be done?  Mall. 
Play the Lady a little longer, and handsomely Bab, and I'll promise thee a new Gown.  Sir Rob. 
Come, come, we will speak, and speed too, my Knight of a Thousand per Annum. Where's this Mourning Lady? What, my Madonna and my Lady Littleworth! heyday! this Covey of Coxcombs too!  Rash. 
Sir Robert.  Sir Rob. 
One.  Rash. 
Kind Sir Robert.  Sir Rob. 
Two.  Greg. 
Worthy Sir Robert.  Sir Rob. 
Three: yet never a wise word amongst them. What still dumb Lady? An ye were as heavy as Led, 'twas but a light trick of you to deny access to such a man as this is, and allow it to such Minncks as these are, 'sdeath I could kick 'em out o'th' Room, and be angry with you, though you are my Wife's Sister, for lodging such baseness within you.  Old Gentlew. 
Why, you are not out of your Wits, are you?  Sir Rob. 
You have no Wit to be out of, Gentlemen: you are all Hobby-horses, an it please you to leave the house now, and come again— when you are sent for— you shall be— hearty glad to be welcome?  Mall. 
You see his humour, Gentlemen, pray leave us.  Greg. 
Why? but I hope—  Mall. 
Not one word more an ye love me.  Greg. 
Nay, then— I would I were but gone once.  Exeunt manent Sir Rob. Sir Oliv. Lady, Mall. Bab. and Mr. William. Sir Rob. 
Come, take my Counsel and forget him.  Bab. 
Never.  Sir Oliv. 
Still looking downwards to your Husband's Grave?  Bab. 
To those that wear so sad a Suit as this, the Grave's the Glass they use to deck 'em by. Pray give me leave.  Sir Rob. 
Prithee look up a little;— I can show thee a Glass, that shall reflect no such affrighted shadows.  Bab. 
Oh! Oh! Oh!—  Mr. Wil 
Excellent Mourning Lady.  Sir Rob. 
The Nuptial Knot binds Loving Pairs together, only for term of Life, has no extent o'er the Divoice of Death.  Bab. 
Pray, pray, no more.  Sir Oliv. 
That only binds the Living to the Living, and not the Living to the Dead.  Sir Rob. 
That flesh that hath Soul within it; the endowments and excellencies, bounteous Heaven bestows to that, has nothing but the frightful shape, and the cold Figure of a Man.  Sir Oliv. 
Yet this; whilst you  upon your Husband's dust, you do (sweet Lady)  upon your Torment.  Bab. 
You have my Resolution, so pray leave me.  Sir Oliv. 
And you be buried in your Husband's Grave: I see my Suit must die too.  Sir Rob. 
Yes, and let it, let it for ever die to her, and live to one deselves it better. Come, I'll bring thed, though she be my Wife's Sister, to one that's younger, fairer, richer, and it may be— honester too.  Mall. 
How, Sir Robert, Honester!  Sir Rob. 
Yes, honester; an she prostrate herself to a Set of Moris-Dancers— and neglect such a Caesar as this is! Come Sir Oliver, let's away.  Mall. 
Nay, but hark you, hark you Sir Robert, and worthy Sir Oliver, that you may see this Lady, is not the Woman that you take her for; look, do you know this Lady?  Bab discovers herself. Sir. Rob. 
How, Bab?  Sir Oliv. 
My Lady's Chambermaid!  Mr. Wil 
A trick of mirth they put upon the Coxcombs.  Sir Rob. 
Were you my Lady?  Bab. 
So your Lady would have it, Sir Robert.  Sir Rob. 
My Lady Bab— how like you this Sir Oliver?  Sir Oliv. 
This Change has put some life into me Sir; and I must tell you, bettered my opinion both of the Lady's Wisdom, and her Goodness.  Sir Rob. 
But hark you Wife, may we not see my Sister?  Mall. 
Faith, yet her temper is not as we'd have it; but we shall win her by degrees, and turn her melancholy to a sprightly humour.  Sir Oliv. 
Then I'll not doubt my happiness.  Sir Rob. 
Come, Sir Oliver, mean time we'll see what mirth my House can yield to entertain you with,— A ha'! my Girl! Why, such a Wench is worth her weight in Pearl!  Exeunt manent Bab and Mr. Will. Mr. Wil 
Well, thou hast played my Lady like a Lady:  
I have a trick from this Conceit to do,  
Shall make us sport, and help thy swelling too.  Exeunt.  

ACT. II.  Enter Old Thrashard and Margaret dressed genteel. Marg. 
SIR, I have spoke my danger.  Thr. 
A dangerous case, believe me; and yet methinks there's no great danger neither: for, say a man offer to blow thee up with Love-powder; if his Train lie so open, you may see it: you have the Wit, I hope, to shun it,— h'aned you.  Marg. 
I have done hitherto.  Thr. 
And dost thou fear thou canst hold out no longer?  Marg. 
Sir, I do not.  Thr. 
That's well, but to the point: what is he? do I know him?  Marg. 
Yes, if you know Sir Robert Malory your Landlord, Father.  Thr. 
Sir Robert! He aim against thy Chastity? has he bestowed upon thy Infancy that care and cost that he has done; maintained thee 'mongst his own, and for this? is this the best you can afford him?  Marg. 
No— Father, for these should I forgot to pay, the most obsequious Duties I can tender, 'twere just in Heaven I should forget myself.  Thr. 
Had this been spoke of any other man, I might have lent an ear to't:— but, Sir Robert! Noble Sir Robert!— that brave man, Sir Robert! our bounteous Benefactor! Say he has scattered some words i'th' way of merriment, some pleasant, idle— wanton— what d'ye call it? sprinkled a little Bawdry in his speech? as Courtiers may, else they are no men of Fashion. That cuts not off a Maidenhead— Nay, perchance the Merriment that you interpret Lust, was his mere love to Virtue.  Mar. 
Virtue!  Thr. 
Yes:— 'tis my Conceit, that all his Talk, his Letters, and all the Gifts he sent you, were employed i'th' way of Trial, not to make thee naught; but so to sound thy goodness.  Mar. 
Think you so? I'll think so too then Father.  Enter Gillian. Gill. 
This is fine, you have the golden time on't.  Thr. 
What golden time? you'll still be scolding.  Gill. 
Scolding! Marry come up Mrs. Jinny-finny; we can't speak to you now, but 'tis scolding; well, I say little.  Thr. 
Nothing at all were better.  Gill. 
But I'll say something; has a Woman a Tongue to say nothing?  Marg. 
Prithee be patiented Sister.  Gill. 
Yes I wauned you, I must Wash, Scour, Brew and Bake, and do this thing, and do that thing, and do every thing, while such a Beautiful Blouse as you are, must sit still and do nothing.  Thr. 
Why, dost thou not see her at work?  Gil. 
At work! a great piece of work adeed Law! Prick, Prick, Prick, as if she had nothing in the World to mind, but Prick, Prick, Prick; but 'tis no matter, 'tis but my hard Fortune; I am a Fool indeed, and so you make me.  Weeps. Thr. 
What, what, a Shower after this Peal of Thunder? Nay, do not cry good Gillian.  Enter Abram. Abr. 
Oh! Father, Father!  Thr. 
Now Boy, what News with you now?  Abr. 
Brave News Father; News of the brave Sir Robert.  Marg. 
Pursue me still— Good Father give me leave while he is come in and gone again.  Thr. 
What leave?  Marg. 
To absent myself, but in some Neighbour's house: I have a trick to pass him— You may tell him I'm gone to London.  Abr. 
When I have told him already you're here in the Parlour a sewing.  Thr. 
Come, you're a Baggage, a foolish Baggage to injure with such frivolous suspicions, a Gentleman of his repute and goodness: come, let me hear no more on't.  Abr. 
Sirster Gillian, I have the rarest News for you.  Gil. 
For me, 'tis well: and what News have you got for me Sir?  Abr. 
Skipping News, leaping News, tripping News.  Gil. 
How! Dancing Brother Abram? Dancing!  Abra. 
Dancing, Prancing, Advancing; Nay, 'tis a Match: a Match upon a Wager.  Gil. 
A Match! who be they?  Abr. 
Why, all the Maids of our Town Edmonton, and all the mad Wenches of Waltam.  Gil. 
A Match, and leave me out! When, when is't Brother?  Abr. 
Marry, even this Morning, they are now going to't helter skelter.  Music within. Gil. 
And leave me out! Where Brother, where?  Abr. 
Why, there Sister Gillian, there, at our own door almost; close by the Maypole; on the Green there: hark, you may hear them hither.  Music again. 
Gillian Sings. 
SHALL the Lasses and Lads, to be merry all Day,  
To Frolic and Kiss, to be buxom and Gay,  
Meet all on the Green  
To choose out a Queen,  
And leave out the bliss of their mortal Estate;  
The Lass that's all Airy, and longs for the Fate,  
That Fate which is common to those who can tell  
The Blessings of Youth, that in Pleasure excel.   
And I be not One!  Ex. sing and Dancing. Abr. 
thou't never be Two, I think; for on my Conscience there is no man that knows her has valoir enough to come near her.  Thr. 
Why, well said Girl, keep but that resolution  Enter Sir Robert. 
And let his purposes be what they can, they cannot hurt thee. Look, he's come already.  Sir Rob. 
Good morrow Tenant: Good morrow Beautiful Tenant.  Thr. 
As much to my Worthy Landlord.  Abr. 
As much to my Worthy Landlord.  Sir Rob. 
My Tenant Abram— God-a-mercy good Tenant Abram. I want your welcome Fair One.  Marg. 
Sir, you are welcome.  Sir Rob. 
Had this been spoke with Smiles upon thy Cheek, I durst have sworn the Syllables had been the language of thy Heart. What, still so adverse to my Pleasure? Tenant, and my young Tenant, shall I crave the Room? I have something to deliver from my Lady, that she would have a Secret to the Ear of every one but Margaret.  Thr. 
The Room? our poverty possesses nothing Sir, but what is yours; you may command it. Come—  Abr. 
I smell my Landlord: but— no more words but mum.  Ex. Thr. and Abram. Sir Rob. 
Still, still this cloud upon thy brow, sweet Peg, you know my mind.  Marg. 
And you know mine Sir Robert.  Sir Rob. 
I mean, I love you.  Marg. 
Not half so well as I love you.  Sir Rob. 
Love me! then there's some hope again. Aside.  
Let's see how willingly you'll yield to my Embraces. How! fly 'em Peg? such a thing denied, how canst thou say thou lovest me?  Mar. 
Yes, Sir: I love you in your Name, your Reputation, the Dignity you carry in your years,— in your Lady. I love you Sir, i'th' fair Benevolence you own her Virtues. In a word, Sir Robert, I love you in that Purity, that shall when Death threatens, make you look boldly on him. Thus I love you.  Sir Rob. 
This is not that I looked for; do you remember your Father is my Tenant?  Marg. 
Sir he is.  Sir Rob. 
Nay, since you urge it, let me tell you Minion, he's not my Tenant neither, but my Beadsman.  Marg. 
And like an humble Beadsman in his Prayers remembers all your Charity.  Sir Rob. 
He does, but you forget it Fair One.  Mar. 
Then let Hea'vn when we Petition the reward it merits forget me too.  Sir Rob. 
Is't not forgetfulness, when all the Love the tender cares and cost, that from thy Infancy, to this ripe Growth, I have bestowed upon you, cannot gain me such a request as this.  Marg. 
This! Alas! your greatest gain in losing: Nay, I'll tell you, the Love, the Care, that Cost, that Noble Breeding, which seems to you a winning Argument, is my best Argument against you.  Sir Rob. 
How?  Mar. 
Why, Sir, the Education, that fair Breeding you have bestowed upon my Poverty has made me what I am, and plentifully furnished my Soul with all that best adorns her, that whatsoever is in opposition to it, is—  Sir Rob. 
What?  Marg. 
Your Lust, Sir Robert: I am bold, but yet can kneel to beg your mercy for it.  Knelt. Sir Rob. 
What? she imagines Water to my Flame, is Oil t'increase it. The more she puts me off, the more she pulls me to her. Come, come rise, though you be so unkind, I can forgive you: I must not look at first to have so great a happiness, as that we aim at, but must use degrees, and then—  Mar. 
What then?  Sir Rob. 
For this time Peg, I'll leave thee: What? leave thee, and leave thee nothing? that were foul play indeed: there; nay, take it: indeed you shall.  Marg. 
Indeed I will not Sir; for any service I can do you, your Favour's price sufficient. No, not yet? I have't. How I forget my Duty? Here so long, and ne'er a Chair to ease you? Abram, Brother; pray pardon me, Sir Robert.  Sir Rob. 
How, a Chair? kinder and kinder still: Nothings like Gifts to gain a Woman's will.  Aside. Enter Abram. Marg. 
Come, come, a Chair there for Sir Robert.  Abr. 
She pities your long standing Sir; but I have a Chair almost at my Finger's end.  Reaches a Chair. 
Look you Sir, will it please you Bum this Cushion.  Sir Rob. 
How, Bum it Tenant?  Abr. 
Yes: Bum it Landlord— look you Sir, o' this fashion.  Marg. 
Come, you'll be foolish.  Abram sits down. 
You know my mind, bring 'em in.  Whispers Abram. Abr. 
An I bring 'em not in, let Sir Robert kick me out.  Ex. Abram. Sir Rob. 
Come, fit down; nay, yet a little nearer; you need not be afraid to sit by me.  Marg. 
I am not Sir, as long as you are virtuous.  Sir Rob. 
I'll be as virtuous as an Alderman, and abhor all— How now? what's that?  Music within. Marg. 
Music, Sir Robert.  Sir Rob. 
Rot on their Fiddle and their Fiddle-strings, thou art my Music.  Enter a Morris: after the Morris this Song is sung. 

SONG.  

CHarming Beauty, you alone  
Deserve the Glories of a Throne;  
Such a Queen we Swains admire,  
And each Breast is filled with Fire,  
And yet vain is our desire.  
Cho. Though to Love and fond Joys we our thoughts do prefer,  
Yet none can be worthy, not worthy of her.   

II.  
Thou Queen of our Joys, and thou Goddess of Bliss,  
Though the Charms are too great to be mentioned in this,  
Let a smile, since you're made the bright Lady of May,,  
Instead of a frown all our Services pay;  
For since Frown's a Fate, no severer can be,  
Your Smiles can rejoice us and set us all free.  
Cho. Free, we are free from all trouble and Strife,  
And this day is the best, and the happiest of Life.    Dance again. Gil. 
You see we sweat to make your Worship merry; how do you like our pastime?  Sir. Rob. 
I like it so well, I could wish you were further off with it.  Maids. 
Have we this for our kindness, Sir Robert?  Gil. 
Marry come up, Sir Robert.  Marg. 
Shall I entreat you leave the Room.  Gil. 
The Room?  Abr. 
So she said, but I know she means no such matter, only a trick; tell her you wonot go.  Marg. 
Pray leave the Room.  Gil. 
We wonot.  Marg. 
Wonot?  Gil. 
No: We were sent for in, and we will not go out again yet. Out? Marry gip there, ne'er a good Inch of a thousand. Fiddlers strike, I'll strike you else; and cut your begging Bowstrings.  Sir Rob. 
I must be gone, I see; these miserable impudent Stallions will overrun me else. Farewell, nothing grieves me but—  Marg. 
But what Sir?  Sir Rob. 
We cannot— kiss at parting— Farewell.  Ex. Sir Rob. Gil. 
Come, we'll have the t'other bout, and then—  Marg. 
Nay, we'll have no more at this time, here's enough.  Gil. 
For you, but not enough for me; you shall command me, shall you?  Marg. 
Nay, be not angry Sister, 'tis no Command, but my Entreat— Good Sister.  Gil. 
Well, since you entreat me, and seem to know your betters, you shall have your will for once. Fiddlers lead the way, and Wenches follow your Leader.  Ex. Fiddlers playing, Gillian and the Morris-dancers following dancing. Abr. 
Leader! if scolding were fight, what a Leader wouldst thou be? you'd bring 'em on with a Powder.  Enter Old Thrashard. 
O! Father, Father!  Thr. 
ne'er a wise word for a Wager: Sir Robert's go I see.  Marg. 
Yes, Sir, he is.  Thr. 
And how dost find him? I do not think the man, that your suspicion seemed to make him.  Marg. 
You have a good Opinion of him Father, and I'll not stand to cross it.  Thr. 
Come, you're a peevish Thing, and I'm afraid have been distasteful to him.  
Consider all is his, we must be wise, Since by his frowns we fall; and favours rise.  Exeunt. Enter Sir Oliver, Bellingham, and the Lady Lovely. Sir Oliv. 
Madam, can the Heart thus feed (like Vultures) on itself, and bear the torment? for such is Grief, sweet Lady.  Lov. 
Sir, as I am, pray leave me.  Sir Oliv. 
Leave you to be out Rivalled by the Dead!  Lov. 
To me he lives, and every hour appears so really my own, as all th' Embraces of a Second Match would stick upon me like the Leprous Stains of Lust and base Adultery, and by this pray understand the vainness of your suit, and so conclude it.  Sir Oliv. 
No more: I have my Answer, and am Married.  Lov. 
Married!  Sir Oliv. 
As you are Madam, to myself alone, no other earthly Creature; yet my Love Petitions, that if e'er hereafter, (since now you are so firm) you find an alteration in your Soul, to fancy Wedlock, that I, I your Servant may, for that second Happiness to Heaven, stand fairest in your Election.  Lov. 
That satisfaction take, if e'er I marry, it shall be you, that is my Resolution.  Sir Oliv. 
I am ecstasied beyond the Joys of Heaven. If e'er I know the Sweets of Hymen, I must find 'em here. So, we are married now, and in this Joy I leave you.  As he is going Enter Sir Robert Mallory, Lady Mallory and Old Gentlewoman. Sir Rob. 
Here's a Rub in your way a while, my brave Knight of a Thousand per Annum; and how dost find her, is she coming? Ha.  Sir Oliv. 
You see my Hopes set Smiles upon my Cheeks; let them resolve you Sir.  Sir Robert. 
I understand you: but when's the Day?  Sir Oliv. 
Nay, question that no further, we shall talk on't.  Old Gentlew. 
I, I, when a thing's done, 'tis done.  Sir Rob. 
You'd feign be Doing too then?  Old Gentlew. 
Would I not? do you think I am all dead flesh?— I warrant you.  Enter Mr. William. Sir Rob. 
Now Mr. William, what good tidings now Sir?  Mr. Will. 
My News is, worthy Sir, that Mullinex the stout Sea Captain is returned, and yesterday was seen on the Change.  Sir Rob. 
George Mullinex?  Mr. Will. 
The same Sir.  Sir. Oliv. 
How is't— ha'— you lose Colour Madam?  Old Gentlew. 
Lady.  Mall. 
Sister.  Sir Oliv. 
Beshrew the Name, and Owner of the Name, which has disturbed you— What's that Name to you?  Lov. 
Sir, nothing but my Trouble.  Sir Rob. 
A troublesome Captain indeed Sir: a Suitor to her once, and Rival to her Husband Sir James Lovely; but missed the mark he aimed at; he shot fair, but Lovely fairer; upon which he went to Sea; where he has been three Years, but's now returned: and hearing (as it seems) that she's a Widow, he'd renew his Suit, give her a Broadside, Sir, and Board her; nay, let me tell you, you have a hot Rival, one that will Quarrel, Fight, and by my Faith— I am half afraid of Danger.  Sir Oliv. 
If he be not all Valour and no Judgement, I fear none: but what so e'er he be, I'll be but what becomes me.  Mall. 
It may be some new Beauty has him now; some Foreign Mistress.  Sir Rob. 
Or it may be Sister, this time of Service in the Wars, has made him only in Love with Fight.  Enter Rash, Plush, and Gregory. Lov. 
More Vexation.  Sir Rob. 
This Mountain brings forth a Mouse! have we talked all this while of a Captain, and now must be troubled with Coxcombs?  Plush. 
The Gods protect you Lady.  Old Gentlew. 
Thank you Sir.  Plush. 
I spoke to that sweet Beauty.  Old Gentlew. 
But I must speak to you Sir, for you see she has other employment. Pray stand aside a little.  Plush. 
If I must, I shall attend her leisure.  Old Gentlew. 
You must attend her too Sir: do you not see she's busy.  Rash. 
I would not interrupt her.  Greg. 
I would not interrupt her! Is that the resolution of a Lover? let me come to her.  Sir Oliv. 
But you shall not Sir.  Greg. 
Nay, if I shall not Sir, I will not Sir.  Sir Rob. 
Is that the Resolution of a Lover?  Greg. 
A man can do no more than he can do: but an my Father would but die once—  Enter Captain Mullinex Rushing in. Capt. 
Make nice to me of entrance! where's the Widow? for so I hear she is now. What, mourning still? I am a bold Gamester: Save you all at once; all Suitors Gentlemen?  Rash. 
Yes indeed, Sir, we are all Suitors.  Sir Rob. 
You're a little to Rash in that, for I am none.  Greg. 
Nor I neither: would I were at home.  Capt. 
What are you Sir?  Rash. 
Sir, I am a Citizen, and a Mercer.  Capt. 
I know you by this Wheel, Turns him round. You have a great many Bags, and a great many Buildings too Sir; but dare you for all that, presume in the way of Matrimony, to look so high as a Lady?  Rash. 
He that can purchase a Lordiship.  Capt. 
Thinks he may purchase a Ladyship:— You my Rival! Can you fight Sir?  Rash. 
It may be I, it may be no, Sir.  Capt. 
Then I'll try whether you can or no Sir.  Kicks him. 
Not a word as you love your Coxcomb.  Bushes him out. 
Are you a Suitor too Sir?  To Plush. Plush. 
Too Sir.  Cap. 
You're an Ass, Sir,— can you fight?  Plush. 
Fight? in a Lady's Chamber?  Capt. 
Why? where would you fight Sir?  Plush. 
Why, the truth on't is— I would fight— no where.  Capt. 
I thought as much, and therefore I will kick you— good Mr. Outside of a Gentleman follow your valiant Leader.  Kicks him out. Old Gentlew. 
You will not kill him, will you?  Capt. 
Have you so much Tongue, and ne'er a good Tooth, Madam Fumble?  Old Gentlew. 
Fumble, Fumble,— you're a most—  Capt. 
Peace, an you love your old Carcase— peace.  Lov. 
You bind me to a Patience.  To Sir Oliver. Capt. 
One Post support another? What are you Sir?  Greg. 
Why— I— am— a— Gentleman.  Capt. 
Will your Arms bear you out in the Title?  Greg. 
My Legs shall bear me out, Sir.  Cap. 
Then you will not be beat out as they were?  Greg. 
I should be very loath to be beaten.  Capt. 
In troth I think you would Sir.  Greg. 
Do I look like one that would be beaten?  Capt. 
If you stay you must.  Greg. 
Why, therefore I mean to be gone Sir. But if my Father would but die once.  Exit. Lov. 
You see his rudeness, and to prevent the danger it threatens, pray leave me.  Sir Oliv. 
I will not add to his too prodigal heat, nor be cold to fear it.  Lov. 
'Tis my Love.  Sir Oliv. 
And mine to tarry, not offending you, with humble contradiction.  Capt. 
Are these your Suitors Madam?  Mal. 
A little in Jest, but you have paid them in earnest.  Old Gentlew. 
I did but speak in the way of Compassion, and your Lordship called me— Madam Fumble, Fumble, did I ever fumble with you Sir?  Capt. 
Be wise in being Silent; I hear you have lost a husband: How is't Widow?  Old Gentlew. 
You'll quarrel with her too, will ye?  Capt. 
You are so nice: I cannot Compliment, kiss your white Hand and fleer upon you. I can kiss your Lip, hug you, and tell you I must lie with you.  Lov. 
There may be those of your Acquaintance, to whom this Language would be pleasing; but to let you know how illed appears to me, I'll change my Room Sir.  Capt. 
But you shall not.  Sir Oliv. 
You lay too rude a Violence upon the tenderness of Ladies.  Capt. 
Do I so Sir? I thank your kind remembrance. You the man? this Lady's only man Sir?  Sir Oliv. 
My desire is you would not be uncivil.  Capt. 
Whatsoever my Will produces, I can justify.  Sir Oliv. 
That power maintains offence, is weakness Sir, and has no taste of Breeding, or of Manhood.  Capt. 
I'll make you taste of something.  Offers to draw. Sir Rob. 
But you shall not. Have we no Servants near us.  Lov. 
Save him; help.  Enter Mr. William and Cut. They interpose between 'em. Old Gentlew. 
O! you're wicked Captain.  Cut. 
What? Naked Weapons in Lady's Chamber?  Sir Rob. 
Take her in, poor Lady, how she's frighted!  Exit Lady Lovely. Enter Hugh. Hugh. 
My Noble Knight and Master!  Sir Oliv. 
We have done Sir.  Hugh. 
And you have done, there's nothing to do; if nothing to do, the less to take care for; the less to take care for, the sounder we sleep; and asleep we think no body hurt Sir. And so having done, I have done.  Ex. Hugh and Cut. Capt. 
You have the advantage of me.  Sir. Oliv. 
I must tell you, this rudeness better would become the Field, than such a Place as this.  Capt. 
That you may know, I know as much as you instruct me to, meet me to morrow.  Sir Oliv. 
I will not.  Capt. 
As good have said you dare not. The Apology is pretty, all Cowards use it.  Sir Oliv. 
How, Cowards?  Capt. 
Cowards.  Sir Oliv. 
His Lunacy has shot its self into my Blood. A Coward! proclaim me what you call me, if I be.  Capt. 
You'll meet me then?  Sir Oliv. 
I will.  Capt. 
Where? Thou or I  Sir Rob. 
O— Nay, if you break so violently out, I shall suspect 'tis to prevent our Meeting; for Manhood covers such Intents as these under a friendly seeming— thus—  They Embrace each other. Sir Rob. 
I marry, Gentlemen, I like this well.  Mall. 
Believe me, I was jealous of worse Matters.  Sir Rob. 
And I, ne'er trust me else.  Capt. 
You know the Place and Time, Sir.  Sir Oliv. 
You shall find, I'll forget neither.  Enter Cut, and whispers Lady Mallory. Capt. 
So— now Beauteous Widow:— is she gone? I have no Courtship to pursue her with, nor will I offer it: but let me tell you, he that best hopes her favour, if he have it, must bid fairer for it than this Sword: and so I'll leave you.  Ex. Capt. Sir Rob. 
How is it Sir? your eyes speak trouble still?  Sir Oliv. 
Sir, if they do, 'tis only what they have from your Sisters Trouble. I must leave you till better hours invite me to return.  Sir Rob. 
Nay, Sir Oliver, our ways lie both together; therefore pray permit me, Sir, to wait upon you.  Ex. Sir Robert and Sir Oliver. Mall. 
Is't possible? be sure you raise not this suspicion from your own Fancy; look the ground be good, the matter's weighty.  Cut. 
I tell you but the Voice in Edmonton, which is, that he daily Visits this Country Innocence; whether he has enjoyed her yet or no, I am not certain; but 'tis so reported.  Mall. 
I will not be too easy to believe, nor yet too confident, I know there's Fire in such a Wenches Eye, and Old dry Wood will soon be kindled; which if he be, I'll find a way to quench him, quench both Fires, And satisfy at once their lose desires.  Exeunt.  

Act the Third.  Enter Threshard with a Letter, Margaret, Gillian, and Abraham. Thr. 
Sir Robert's Hand, art sure on't?  Mar. 
I am too sure.  Thr. 
And sent to thee last night?  Gill. 
I by this Day was it, Father. I know it to be his Hand; what do you think of this now?  Thr. 
I know not what to think.  Mar. 
You see the picture of a Lustful Heart drawn to the life.  Thr. 
I believe thee: yet Old Sir Robert.  Enter Lady Mal. disguised. Gill. 
Yes, even Old Sir Robert: who have we here, a Beggar?  Abr. 
An she desire any thing here, I shall desire her to be gone with a vengeance: who would you speak withal?— Hum— hum— ha' woman.  Mal. 
A poor old woman; be not offended, Sir.  Abr. 
And what wouldst thou have, poor old woman?  Mal. 
My business is to you.  Mar. 
To me, what is't?  Gill. 
I, I, what is't?  Mal. 
Though I may speak it; since you fall into causeless suspicions of me, either hear me as I am willing to present it to you, or as I am I'll leave you.  Mar. 
Nay pray stay— Good Father, leave us.  Thr. 
Take your own course;— nay— nay, come you'd fain be scolding: on or I'll set you forward.  Exit Thrashard, Gillian, and Abraham. Mar. 
Now to this private business; what is't?  Mal. 
Love, and I assure you one worth entertaining from such a matchless Beauty, here is the witness of it; Shows a 'tis a fair one.  Cabinet. Mar. 
If no foul end attend it.  Mal. 
'Tis a fair offer for that short delight the Gentleman would purchase.  Mar. 
You have not named the man.  Mal. 
It is Sir Robert.  Mar. 
Sir Robert Malory?  Mal. 
The same. I might renew your memory by relating his bounties to your father; and by those you cannot choose but guess he loves you, Fair one. Witness this, this noble Prize; nay look upon it, 'tis a fair one, Lady.  Mar. 
Yet much too poor to bribe an Angel to impurity. Go bear 'em back again, and tell thy Master the lustful Knight that sent 'em, Where we rate our Chastity above our Life, we will not sell it for such Toys as these are.  Mal. 
How! such Toys— I dare be bold to tell you, in this act you do not only lose this Golden Offer, but Happiness for ever.  Mar. 
Yet more vexation. I will not call thee Woman, for a Woman would never labour thus t'infect the Name with such a sin as this is. Father, Sister, for Heaven's sake help me. Father, Brother, Sister.  Enter Thrashard, Abraham, and Gillian. Thr. 
How now, Girl? why, what's the matter? ha'?  Mar. 
Examine her. But she perchance may tell you what she does is her duty, and that to make our poor and barren Fortune's freghtful with a Golden Shower.  All. 
A Golden Shower.  Abr. 
O rare! an thou canst do that, Old Woman, long mayst thou rain I beseech thee.  Mar. 
Father, you may believe me, for she is.  Thr. 
What?  Mar. 
A Bawd.  Thr. 
A Bawd?  Mar. 
Nay, though the Brow of such a one be Brass, she dares not contadict it: she's no less, and her employment from Sir Robert  Thr. 
How? come come take heed.  Gill. 
What should she take heed of? An she be a Bawd she is a Bawd.  Abr. 
That's certain, were her Bawdship employed amongst Ladies.— But she shall ride in Triumph: now Tobacco and Aqua vitae burn thee.  Gill. 
Now the stinking sweat upon thee and thy painted Journy-women.  Abr. 
How many Noses do you think have been lost in your Bawdships' service?  Gill. 
How many Coaches have you bawdified?  Abr. 
How long have you run on in this sin? How often have the Coachmen and Horses been whipped for your pleasure?  Thr. 
Was this Sir Robert's bounty? Base, base woman; but we'll reward your labour.  Gill. 
You lose a Daughter of me else.  Abr. 
And an Abram of me I can tell you.  Thr. 
I'll go get an Officer, Abram provide a Cart.  Gill. 
And let me alone for a Basin.  Ex. Thr. Gill. and Abr. Mal. 
Has Love and Bounty this reward?  Mar. 
Yes, and the best it merits: Away, thou art a Devildrest in shape of Woman.  Mal. 
And thou an Angel. Now I have found thy goodness.  Discovers herself. 
Know me better.  Mar. 
My ever worthy Lady.  Mal. 
Come, no more: thou seest the purpose of this poor Disguise, therefore fear nothing here. Nay, you must take it, since that which seemed to be the hire of Lust shall now be the reward of Virtue: but you must employed as I direct you.  Mar. 
Do but direct, and if I fail in any thing enjoined, let your displeasure punish me severely.  Mal. 
This is all; against my Husbands coming (for I'm sure he will not long be from thee;) with this and more that I'll supply thee with, trim up this homely Cottage and yourself; it is my pleasure.  Mar. 
IT must then be mine to serve it.  Enter Thr. Gill. Abr. Constable and Watch. Thr. 
I have told you what she is, Mr. Constable.  Gill. 
A Bawd.  Abr. 
All over— we'll not bate you an Ace, Mr. Constable; and therefore have a care you do Justice.  Const. 
I have been amongst Whores and Bawds too before now, and I think I have tickled them sound.  Abr. 
I think so too: A Constable, what whore dares deny him entrance?  Const. 
For what belongs to this Staff let me alone. Come, where's this Bawd? where is she?  All go towards my Lady Malory, and seeing it is she they start. Thr. 
My worthy Lady.  Gill. 
My most worthy Lady.  Abr. 
Come, where's this Bawd here?  Seeing Lady Mal. starts. 
My most worthy Landlady.  Con. 
What have I to do with Ladies? 'Tis the Bawd that my Authority must cope withal.  Abr. 
Constable, you may make a Hobby-horse of your Painted staff, and ride home again: Whip lie you there, and what say you to the Basin?  Gill. 
I say, 'tis a base one, and the Barberly Knave that owns it, they say his Wife had a Tooth drawn above, while he was trimming below, let him keep it for her an he will, for we have nothing to do with it,  Mal. 
Time's earnest with me to be gone: farewel, you know my mind, perform it.  Mar. 
With such a zealous care as Saints the will of Heaven.  
The virtuous secret here Enclosed I'll show,  
Since from pure fountains such pure Rivers flow.  Exeunt severally. Enter Barb. dressed and Mr. William. Barb. 
hay ho! good truth this little practice of my Lady has lulled me into so sweet a fancy, that all this time I have been thus attired i've thought myself a very Lady; I would I were a very—  Mr. Wil 
Maid again, wouldst thou not Barb?  Barb. 
Well, and I be not I may thank you for it.  Mr. Will. 
What, thank me for't and cry? Come come, conceal't a little longer, and I'll warrant thee I'll find thee out a Father.  Enter Gregory. 
Here's one of the Fops already. Withdraw.  Leads her off and Returns. Gre. 
Mr. William, hist, do you hear? I have the worst luck at Women, but I'll to her  M. Will. 
What Mr. Gregory?  Gre. 
The very same, Sir— your Lady's now gone in, may a man be so bold— you understand me.  Mr. Will 
Faith not yet, but there's hopes you may see her anon.  Gre. 
I had a glimpse of her, I cannot tell, but if my Father would but die once.  Mr. Will. 
I marry Mr. Gregory, his Passing Bell were Music.  Gre. 
The man that rung it should not sweat for nothing.  Enter Plush. Plu. 
A happy day, Mr. William, and as much (though my Rival) to the sweet Mr. Gregory Dwindle.  Gre. 
Thanks sweet Mr. Timothy Lyning  Plu. 
How's that Sir?— Lining?  Mr. Wil 
A conceit he has, witness your Worship's Coat.  Plu. 
'Tis lined indeed, and may line a Lady's Pettycoat, when such a simple Gregory as thou shall dwindle but to hear on't.  Gre. 
The dwindle in disgrace?  Draw. Plu. 
Tell me of lining.?—  Draw. Mr. Wil 
Why Gentlemen you come to see my Lady: which, if you kill one another, you'll hardly do, believe me.  Gre. 
You have said right, Mr. William, and had it not been for that—  Puts up. 
I had, but it is no matter,—  Plu. 
And so had I— Puts up. but let that pass—  Gre. 
Well, an my Father would but die once.  Enter Rash. Rash. 
Gentlemen all, Good day: may we not in to the Lady?  Mr. Will. 
In to the Lady— you are somewhat rash indeed, Sir.  Rash. 
Enter the house I mean, Sir.  Mr. Will. 
She is now going forth to her Brother Sir Robert Malory; what favour she may bestow as she passes I know not. But be not to tedious, I beseech you.  Exit Mr. Will. Rash. 
Well, this melancholy Lady is a hard piece of matter to compass.  Plu. 
Some what straight laced, Mr. Rash.  Gre. 
An I could but come to unlace her, I should make her forget her mourning.  Rash. 
We all aim at one mark— which only one must hit. I hope well.  Plu. 
And I hope as well as you Sir.  Enter Bab. and Mr. Will. as before. Mr. Will. 
Have a care, you know my directions.  All the men compliment her together. 
But one at once I beseech you.  Plush whispers with Bab, she shakes her head. 
Mr. Plush has the start of you, gentlemans.  Rash. 
We cannot help it, worthy Mr. William.  Gre. 
Hope well, and have well, the Motto of my Arms if ever I live to be Knighted, which if my Father would but die once.  Mr. Will. 
You would be a Fool in Folio.  Aside. Gre. 
She shakes her head, what doth she mean by that?  Mr. Will. 
To hear him talk so like a humorous Coxcomb.  Plush compliments and leaves her. 
She has shaken him off already.  Gre. 
I'll try my entertainment.  Gre. approaches her after a great many of ridiculous compliments. Rash. 
I shall have my turn I hope anon.  Mr. Will. 
'Twere a very ill turn if you should not, Sir.  Bab. smiles. Rash. 
There's the man, see how she smiles upon him.  Bab. points at Rash Mr. Will. 
No here's the man, see how she points at you.  Rash. 
She points at me indeed; but oh those smiles.  Mr. Will. 
That smile's a laugh, a scorn, a mere derision.  Gregory comes from her shaking his head amorously. 
Do you note his coming off, Sir, to her, to her?  Rash goes to her complementing all the way. 
Sir, what news?  Plu. 
Nay, I say nothing, what it was it was.  Mr. Will. 
And what say you, Sir?  Gre. 
What she said she said.  Bab. claps her hand on her breast. Plu. 
That clapping of her hand upon her breast I do not like; she gave me good words, but that's a tough bit on my stomach.  Mr. Will. 
I'll help you down with that, her words were these. 'Tis very true, you are a very civil Gentleman, and one above the fortunes which you seek; but when the heart is promised there's no calling back. These were her words, believe me. Did she not shake her head? as who should say, you are the man must have her.  Plu. 
'tis enough.  Mr. Will. 
You are muffled up in melancholy too, Sir.  Gre. 
She gave me comfortable words, but that embrace, and thus her hand meeting her heart so oft moves she a little.  Mr. Will. 
Then you'll be moved with nothing. I'll tell you what she said. Sir, you are a good man, a Citizen, wise and rich, though these three seldom go together  Aside. 
But when they do, it is an Alderman's pace. The Maidenhead is your Aims, and in your Arms believe me I wish one, for my Widowhood is otherwise engaged. These were her words; you are the man must have her, did she not smile upon you?  Gre. 
Yes, she did.  Mr. Will. 
Why, why should you be maid then?  Rash comes from Bab, melancholy. 
Look, he comes from her, and as melancholy as a sick Monkey. You are the man, Mr. Gregory.  Barb beckons. 
She bockons one of you.  Plu. 
Me, me, I hope, and I'll to her.  Gre. 
You shall not go alone, Sir.  Both go to her and whisper. Mr. Will. 
Now what's the happiness?  Ras. 
My happiness is, that what she said, she said.  Mr. Will. 
You have had a long and a very gracious hearing.  Rash. 
I have, I thank her, a very gracious hearing. Why doth she laugh so loud?  Bab Laughs. 
'Tis not at me I hope.  Mr. Will. 
At you?— no Sir, no,— what laugh at a civil Gentleman? I could tell you what she said for a need.  Ras. 
I should be glad to hear it.  Mr. Will. 
Then I will make you glad, Sir, beseech you hear me.  Mr. Plush. 
You are a proper man smooth and soft; you have not your name for nothing. I have heard you are valiant; fear no man, but the man that frights any man, a Sergeant; yet you have made some of them run, two or three at once, and glad they could overtake you too.  Ras. 
This was a thing worth laughing at indeed.  Mr. Will. 
But for Mr. Gregory the Country Gentleman (good harmless thing) she said little or nothing to him. I have told you what she laughed at, you are the man must have her—  My Lady beckons me. They fall off; Barb beckons Mr. Will. 
Your pleasure, Madam.  Plu. 
I cannot tell if shaking of the head, and serious shaking of the head, may be gracious sign of love, I am the man.  Gre. 
Oh smile, sweet smile, full of splendidious rays, such as the Sun at Dinner time displays: if I do not tickle her in figure, let me be counted a cipher; well, if my Father would but die once,— I am the man must have her.  Mr. Will. 
Your will shall instantly be done sweet Lady Gentlemen, 'tis my Lady's pleasure you leave her at this time.  To Mr. Plush aside. Mr. Plush, 
my Lady desires you to meet her exactly at Ten a clock this morning at the Devil Tavern, and there expect her coming.  Offers to go to Barb. 
What discover yourself before these Coxcombs? Away, away, you are the man must have her.  Plush. 
Most beauteous Lady.  Exit complementing. Mr. Will. 
Mr. Gregory, I have sent him off with a flea in his ear, only that I might desire you to meet her at the Devil exactly at ten a clock, in some disguise for fear of a discovery; and she'll not fail to meet you.  Gre. 
At the Devil, said you?  Mr. Will. 
Yes, yes, at the Devil Tavern, and there you'll find my Lady will be your Lady. Be gone.  Gre. 
Well, if my father would but die once, then— farewell most beauteous Lady.  Exit complementing. Mr. Will. 
Mr. Rash, I have given him a Box to put his Pepper in; you are the man shall have her.  Rash. 
In good deed, Sir.  Mr. Will. 
You'll hear as much from my Lady.  Rash. 
O might I be so happy.  Mr. Will. 
Why you shall, Sir. I have told the Gentleman your mind, sweet Lady, who desires no greater happiness on earth then to hear it from yourself.  Barb. 
Mr. Rash, though it scarce suit with modesty, my blush begs excuse; blame me not then for saying of that I love you, since 'tis a certrin truth, and such a one as you desire to hear, and therefore take your wish, you are the man shall have me.  Rash. 
May I build?  Mr. Will. 
With Brick according to the Statute.  Rash. 
I mean upon this promise.  Mr. Will. 
O, you mean upon the Lady, Sir: you hear you may, the foundation is laid to your hands, and the Edifice half up already; and to complete the structure my Lady would have you meet her in some disguise at the Devil Tavern, at ten a clock exactly, and from thence to go with her to the next Chapel, and there be put in possession of your greatest Happiness.  Rash. 
I will not fail the time. Farewell, dear Lady. With this I take my leave.  Exit. Mr. Will. 
Farewell, credulous Coxcomb; how easily are these Citizens gulled, and how monstrously do they gape for the blessing of a debauched Chambermaid? Any thing that has not the nauceous name of a Cits. Darling is as modest as an Angel.  Barb. 
I hope to gratify me for the pains and care I take in thus providing thee a wealthy Father and a foolish Husband: I may enjoy the blessing of your company.  Barb. 
I shall not derogate from the custom of us Citizens, who long more for the company of a Gentleman Usher, than a bigbellied woman for impossibilities; but you must be a Godfather.  Mr. Will. 
I must not be a Courtier else, nor you a City wife; for 'tis always the poor Cuckold's custom, to pick him out for a Godfather who has the greatest share of his wife's company. But we trifle time; let's go. 
In such affairs swift motion we desire;  
One hour can kindle and put out the fire.   Exeunt. Enter Sir Oliver and the Captain as in the field. Cap. 
Now, Knight, I see you love a noble promise too well to break it: you're a Gentleman.  Sir Ol. 
Sir, should I find that I had lost myself in any thing that should proclaim me less, I should not hate my Enemy so much as such a heady action.  Cap. 
I am ready.  Draws. Sir. Ol. 
So sudden; although I came to fight, yet were I sure I could put by thy fury, the fight part should only be thy own, mine only my own Buckler.  Cap. 
Slighted; 's death prepare, or—  Sir Ol. 
I must not dally then; Draws. come Mullineux  Cap. 
I'm ready.  Fight; Cap. wounded. Sir Ol. 
Hold, Captain, hold; you bleed.  Cap. 
As you must do, or all my blood's at hazard; come on, Sir.  Sir Ol. 
How fatal, Sir, another close may be we know not.  Cap. 
No, nor do we fear it.  Sir Ol. 
Then, Mullineux, what following hurts you have call not the work of my unwilling hands, but thy frenzy. Captain, you faint  They fight. Cap. 
Take your advantage then.  Sir Ol. 
Advantage, Sir, how mean you?  Cap. 
Of my wound.  Let's his sword fall. 
My weakness, Bellingham.— You see there's now not interposed resistance between my heart and thy bold weapon, come.  Sir Ol. 
I rather wish that all thy blood were in thy veins again, though with that strength, new courage, and the malice that but two minutes passed pursued my life; you should again pursue't, and put it to another dangerous hazard.  Cap. 
Thou art a noble Enemy— And now my troubled Understanding's calm again; I see myself worthy the wounds I have, and all their anguish trebled— thou art just.  Sir Ol. 
I am too unmindful of thy wounds, thy smarting faintness— but my cares shall now only attend thy safety.  Cap. 
Mind thy own— fly Bellingham.  Sir Ol. 
Let all my best desires be fruitless then; come, Mullineux, let me support thy fainting body.  Cap. 
Worthy Sir, you made me see that braves and boastings in good causes are, 
The Dolphin's wanton dallying on the waves;  
That foreruns tempests, this untimely graves.   Exeunt.  

Act the Fourth.  Enter old Thrashard brave, and the Lady Malory. Mal. 
You know my mind; fail not in any thing that lies in my direction.  Thr. 
Fear not me; you have made me brave, and I'll do my business as bravely.  Mal. 
And so for your Son and Daughter.  Thr. 
Nay for my Son, since he put on his bravery for a Gallant in jest, he will not be persuaded but that he's a Gallant in earnest; scorns to think on Canvas, course Freeze, or a Sheepskin Doublet, or to talk but of Lords and Ladies. And as for my Daughter—  W hum within. Mal. 
Hark, he's come already.  Thr. 
In good Lady, 'tis his hum indeed.  Exit Lady Mal. 
If I can but hit the state of a Justice handsomely.  Enter Sir Robert. 
But here comes Sir Robert, I must go to my station.  Thr. walks up and down in state. Sir Ro. 
Well Edmonton, thou that hold'st her who holds me in the strong net of Affection, I am once again come to see thee: how in th'imagination of this sport my old heart caper's? Well, this little house, this little cottage, while it holds my Peg is my best house, my Castle and my Palace of pleasure.  Thr. 
You are welcome, honest Gentleman; what would you?  Sir Ro. 
Ha', what would you, Sir? By his face old Thrashard my Tenant, but by the reverend outside that he wears I know not with what style to salute him.  Thr. 
Would you ought with me or mine, Sir?  Sir Ro. 
I would speak with Good man of the house, Sir.  Thr. 
The Right Worshipful Master of this house you may speak to.  Sir Ro. 
What may I call your name?  Thr. 
My name in common is Thrashard, but with the Gentile Addition Oliver Threshard Esq Justice of Peace and Corum.  Sir Ro. 
Justice of Peace and Corum— do you not know me, Mr. Oliver?  Thr. 
Not you Mr. what shall I call you? Belike you would have us know you whether we will or no, Sir.  Sir Ro. 
Has not your Worship a son named Abram?  Thr. 
My Worship has a son that men call Mr. Abram Thrashard.  Sir Ro. 
May a man desire to see him, Sir?  Thr. 
He's not afraid to be seen, Sir— Son Abram, Mr. Abram.  Enter Abram brave. 
Come, here's a Gentleman desires to see you.  Abr. 
To see me, my Right Worshipful Father? if he be a Gentleman we are to be seen and spoke to. Your business to me, Sir?— hum— hum— hum—  Sir Ro. 
Doth your Worship know me, Mr. Abram?  Abr. 
My Worship doth know many Gentlemen, some Lords and some Ladies too, Sir.  Sir Ro. 
But me your Landlord, Sir Robert?  Abr. 
Landlord to one in Satin?  Sir Ro. 
Your Worship remembers me, sure Sir?  Abr. 
My Worship remembers you not, Sir; must not, shall not, nor will not: Landlord to one in Satin! Did you hear him, Right worshipful Father?  Thr. 
I heard him, my worshipful son; just thus he talked to me too.  Abr. 
Landlord to one in Satin!  Sir Ro. 
They talk of a wonderful Year, but here's a most wonderful Minute. I am sure, worshipful Sir, have not you a sister called Gillian?  Abr. 
Called Mrs. Gillian I have, and you shall know that I have: Sister, Mrs. Gillian, Sister.  Enter Gillian brave. 
There's a Gentleman would speak with one Gillian, no more but so, plain Gillian.  Gill. 
You might have remembered the M, Sir.  Sir Ro. 
Which of the M's Madonna Mistress, or Malkin?  Gill. 
Right worshipful Father, shall our Greatness endure the Malkin?  Sir Ro. 
I confess Forgetfulness: your pardon, sweet Mrs. Gillian.  Thr. 
'Tis well you have changed your note, Sir; had you not, by this Chain I know what I know, Sir.  Sir Ro. 
Do you know me, Mrs. Gillian?  Gill. 
For a saucy Companion I do, Sir.  Sir Ro. 
Why this is admirable; what Brokers Wardrobe have they met withal? Let me not mistake, and charge a kindness with unkindness though: for ought I know this may be some conceit, that in the close shall to my entertainment add more delight and lustre. Worthy Sir, may but my boldness progress to the sight of your fair Daughter Margaret, I have done, and rest indebted to your Right worshipful self, and your worshipful son and daughter.  Thr. 
Son Abram, call in your Right worshipful sister.  Abr. 
Now talk like one of us, a Gentleman; a Gentlewoman shall talk with the Gentleman, and so as the Proverb is, 'Tis merry when Gentlefolks meet. Sister, Mrs. Margaret, Sister.  Enter Margaret brave. Mar. 
Your business, Brother.  Abr: 
Ask our Right worshipful Father.  Sir Ro. 
I there's the star that ushers in my happiness.  Mar. 
With me, Sir?  Sir Ro. 
My beauteous Margaret, how ere o'th'sudden changed into these rich clothes, I hope you know me better than your father doth, your brother, or your sister.  Mar. 
Know you, Sir?  Sir Ro. 
I hope you do.  Mar. 
Indeed I do not, Sir.  Sir Ro. 
Not know me?  Mar. 
No;— nor to be brief and plain do I desire to know you.  Sir Ro. 
Not know me, I am Sir Robert Malory.  Mar. 
Sir Robert Malory? I do not know him; but I have heard of such a one, a Knight, a City Knight, a piece of old dry stuff that's good for nothing, yet as lustful as a satire: out upon him, wrongs his good Lady, such a beauteous Lady, nay such a virtuous Lady; out upon him. They say his Lust most eagerly pursues his Tenant's Daughter, a poor Country Innocence.  Sir Ro. 
Ha', this the delight I looked for?  Mar. 
'Tis reported he has done her good, settled a poor Estate upon her aged Father; and of goodness must the reward be sin?  Sir Ro. 
Some Conjuration, Witchcraft.  Thr. 
How he sweats?  Mar. 
Sister, Pray call our mother.  Gill. 
Lady Mother.  Enter Lady Malory. Mal. 
How now, what's the matter?  Sir Ro. 
How's this? her mother? why this is my Lady, or the Devil in her likeness; I'm sure she'll know me.  Mal. 
Desire to speak with me, Sir?  Sir Ro. 
You Lady, will she not know me neither?  Mal. 
I cannot stand to talk, Sir.  Sir Ro. 
Not with me?  Mal. 
With you, Sir? no, Sir? what are you, Sir?  Sir Ro. 
Ha', do you not know me, Lady?  Mal. 
Know you, Sir? how? when? where? why? for what, Sir?  Sir Ro. 
How? when? where? why? for what, Sir? why here's the finest mad fit, the most worshipful piece of Lunacy, that a man shall desire to look on: why, are not you my wife?  Mal. 
Thy wife?  Sir Ro. 
My wife.  Mal. 
I hope, my Right worshipful Husband, you will not see me jeered and derided; he challenges me for his wife.  Thr. 
My Lady your wife? By this Chain if you play the mad Alderman here, you were better have done it in Bedlam. Your wife? Go to, no more but so, go to.  Abr. 
Our Right worshipful mother your wife? By this Satin go to, no more but so, go to.  Mar. 
Methinks in such a Gentleman as you are, such sport, so old, and such a reverend man, this wildness shows not handsome.  Sir Ro. 
Handsome quotha, my wife deny me too? If I be mad, I'll play the mad man's part a little longer. Hark Lady, are not you my wife? are not you my Tenant? are not you Abram Ninne? you Gillian of Brainford? you pretty Peg of Edmonton? and this house here my own? 's death they jeer me. This is a trick of my Ladies, to deride and shame me: she has discovered me, and there's no hiding of my faults. Peg, wife Peg, I confess my love; but do you hear me, Lady? Madam Peg.  Mal. 
The old man's mad.  Sir Ro. 
I were mad indeed if I should not know my own Lady: prithee torment me no longer. I was wanton I confess it, and blush to own I was so; but by this free confession I hope to gain your pardon.  Abr. 
When we walk thus abroad, how our once familiar Acquaintance will bow and adore our Satin? but we know the worshipful nod, for a word we shall hardly afford them.  Mal. 
May I believe all this you have protested? well, but yet you may make Relapses, how ere the fault is pardoned.  Sir Ro. 
My thanks, and promise ne'er to dote again on her, nor any other. How likes the Right worshipful this now?  Thr. 
By this Chain exceeding well, Sir.  Abr. 
I protest by this Satin it is, Sir.  Sir Ro. 
Please your Worships may I possess her now? Do you know me now?  All. 
Our worthy and right worshipful Landlord.  Sir Ro. 
Will your Satin submit to that, Sir? Peg, I love thee, not for thy Beauty but thy Virtues. The testimony of it shall be this; your states shall be as great as they appear to be, I have spare bags will do it; and my care shall find you out a worthy Husband. Right worshipful Tenant, I give you the House and Lands you live in, and to maintain yourselves and them with credit an hundred pounds a year, and after your decease it passes to your Heirs, from thence to their Posterities.  All. 
Thanks to our Right worshipful Landlord.  Sir Ro. 
For you't shall be my care and study to find out a just and fit reward to crown your Virtues. 
This conquest gained, rewards are due to those  
Who make such acts as these their greatest foes.   Exeunt. Three Tables are set out; Enter Gregory Dwindle disguised as in a Tavern. Gre. 
This is the place I am to meet my Lady in, and near the hour too; but I wonder she would choose a Tavern! Perhaps she loves Sack before Matrimony, if she doth so do I; therefore, sweet Mr. Gregory, sit down and recreate yourself.  Sits down and knocks; Enter Drawer. 
A Bottle you conceive me of the best Canary; and if a Lady come pray send her in.  Draw. 
What Lady, Sir?  Gre. 
That's counsel, but for satisfactions sake 'tis a Mourning Lady.  Draw. 
You are mistaken in the house, Sir; here's none but mad Ladies come hither.  Exit Drawer. Greg. 
She may be a mad mourning-Lady, for aught I know. If my Father would but die once, how happy should I be!  Enter Drawer with Wine, and Plush disguised. Plus. 
If the Lady comes, you know my mind; I'm in the Figure Three.  Sits down; Draw. fills to Gre. and then goes to Plush. 
I am for Canary: but what fellow's that?  Draw. 
A Country Gentleman, Sir, that stays here for a Lady.  Gre. drinks all this while. Plus. 
Do you know her?  Draw. 
Not perfectly, but I guess some Madonna or other that haunts our house: we have all conveniencies.  Exit Drawer. Gre. 
This Sack would taste better if my Father were but dead once, but as it is, it is.  Drinks. Enter Drawer with wine, and Rash disguised. Ras. 
You know the token?  Draw. 
Sweet Mr. Rash, I do, and shall observe it.  Ras. 
But what two fellows are they? I would be private.  Draw. 
Two Town Bullies, that call here commonly once a day, to drink a Bottle; their stay will not be long.  Ras. 
But why asunder?  Draw. 
For fear of quarrelling, Sir; men of such known valour are commonly at variance.  Ras. 
Another Room would serve me better; I am not fit for Bullies.  Draw. 
You need not fear them, Sir, they dare not fight a stranger.  Draw. goes to Plush, and fills out a Glass, Rash sits down, Draw. comes to him. Ras. 
I am for Sack.  Gre. 
This Sack is very powerful, for methinks, I could fight now; sa, sa, sa.  Draws, and fences up toward Rash. Ras. 
Hold, Sir, hold; I beseech you hold: let not me be the object your rage points at.  Gre. 
What, Mr. Rash, are you here? egad we are the happy men, I see.  Ras. 
I think so too, Mr. Gregory: put up, put up, and let's drink a health to the Lady.  Gre. puts up. Gre. 
With all my heart, and sing a health to her too, if my Father would but die once.  Raf. 
Now you talk of singing, let's have a singing health, to pass away time, till the Lady comes.  Gre. 
With all my heart, but as for Mr. Plush he may hid his face like a velver lining: we are the happy men.  Mr. Plush dances up and down, at last comes to Gre. and Rash. Plus. 
What, Mr. Rash, and Mr. Gregory Dwindle!  Gre. and Ras. 
What, Mr. Rash, are you here too?  Plus. 
So it feems, and I fear we are all sent hither to be made Coxcombs of, for I see no Lady appears.  Gre. 
That may be, however I'll be merry, and sing a song, and drink a bottle; and a Pox of Melancholy, my Father must die, that's my comfort.  Ras. 
Well said, Mr. Gregory, hang sorrow, I say: let's have the song.  

SONG.  
Here is without doubt  
Two Fools and a Lout,  
Who came out of hopes to be merry or mad.  
But I gad their delight  
Has shamed 'em out right,  
And has made the poor Citizen sad.  
But let her be damned, and be wretched, and poor,  
I'll drink till I'm drunk, and be jilted no more.   Gre. 
What say you, Gentlemen?  Rash. 
I'm of your mind.  Plus. 
And I.  Gre. 
Then show yourselves true sons of the Pitcher, and roar out the two last lines.  All Sing. 
Then let her be damned, for she's wretched and poor.  
We'll drink till we're drunk, and be jilted no more.  All drink. Enter Mr. William. Mr. Will. 
Good morrow, Gentlemen, you may wonder my Lady chose out this place to meet in; but when you know the reason, you'll rather praise than blame her. She knows you are valiant all, you for the Sword, you for the Law, and you, Sir, for the ancient weapon, Fist.  Gre. 
By your favour, Sir, I am for the Modern Weapon, Sword too, if I am provoked.  Mr. Will. 
It may be so, Sir, therefore my Lady knowing your excessive Valours, and desiring to have no Innocents' blood shed in her cause, desires you to drink for her.  All. 
How?  Mr. Will. 
He that drinks most, and finds the newest Health, my Lady vows to marry.  Ras. 
Say you so? nay for drinking and so forth, let me alone.  Plus. 
And me for drinking, drabbing, swearing, fight, dancing, singing, and huffing, let me alone, and if here are not Graces enough to win a Widow, the Devil shall turn husband.  Gre. 
And let me alone for— if my Father would but die once.  Mr. Will. to Gre. aside. Mr. Will. 
If I might advise you, Mr. Gregory, drink out of a Boot.  Gre. 
A Boot?  Mr. Will. 
Yes, a Boot, and one of the largest you can meet withal. 'Tis new, and a sufficient Jest to win a Lady.  Gre. 
I can do it.  Mr. Will. 
You need not fear the Lady then.  Enter Draw. Greg. whispers the Draw. Mr. Will. aside to Plush. 
Out of a shoe, Mr. Plush, I think would take with her, for I once heard her say, she saw the frolic, and it pleased her strangely.  Plus. 
It shall be done, Sir.  Plush whispers the Drawer, who Exits: Mr. Will. aside to Rash. Mr. Will. 
A bottle serves your turn, that being off leave the two Fops, and come down stairs, where you shall find my Lady ready to receive you.  Ras. 
Thanks, Mr. William, let this reward your care.  Gives him Money. Mr. Will. 
Gentlemen, I must be gone, my Lady waits below to hear of your success, and whoever gets the victory, let his loud voice proclaim it. Farewell.  Exit Mr. Will. Enter Drawer, with a Boot full, Shoe full, and a Bottle full of Wine; gives the Boot to Greg. the Shoe to Plush, and the Bottle to Rash. Ras. 
I see, gentlemans, you are resolved to outdo me: if I lose the Lady for want of drinking, 'tis my ill fortune, howe'er here's to her, and to that happy man who has her.  Drinks, and sneaks off. Plus. 
And here's a health to the unhappy man who goes without her.  Drinks. Gre. 
And here's a health to the leg, foot, and person that in former ages wore this famous Boot.  Drinks. Plu. 
This shoe has a devilish hogo with it: Essence of toes! how I admire you.  Drinks. Gre. 
This boot has as profound an understanding as my Lady, and because I desire to know the depth of one as well as the other; thus I squeeze the Pitcher, over Shoes, over Boots, I say.  Both having drunk, hollow, and reel up and down, crying a Dwindle, a Plush, a Plush, a Dwindle, etc. Plus. 
Why, Mr. Gregory Dwindle, Fop out of Mode, and Monster of the Town, dare you presume to think 've won the Lady?  Gre. 
Why, Mr. Timothy Facing, Fop Alamode, and Pimp to half the Nation, dare you presume to think 've won the Lady?  Plus. 
Yes, and to show I dare, thus I assault you.  Throws the shoe at Greg. Greg. 
And in return, I'll bootifie your Honour.  Throws the Boot at Plush; both draw and fight at a distance. Plus. 
Dwindle, thou hast wronged me.  Gre. 
Plush, thou hast wronged me.  Plus. 
Thou hast not won the Lady.  Gre. 
Thou hast not won the Lady.  Plus. 
For which— though I am loath.  Gre. 
For which— though I am loath: but yet I must, my Honour cannot brook it.  Fight at a distance again▪ Plus. 
Hold, hold, Mr. Gregory, I believe we are both choosed: what's become of Rash?  Gre. 
Pox of our rash do, how soon might one of us two have been nothing. But what's become of Rash?  Plus. 
Sneaked after the Lady, on my life.  Gre. 
O that the Rascal were but dead once, how I would maul him for all his skill in Law.  Enter Mr. Will. Mr. Rash, and Barbary as Married. Gre. 
Oh, horror, revenge, revenge.  Plush. 
Blood and revenge assist me.  Mr. Will. 
Why Gentlemen, what mean you?  Gre. 
Nothing, Sir, but revenge, revenge, I say.  Gre. and Plush, rave up and down. Rash. 
They quarrel for your beauty, Lady.  Bab. 
Lady me no Ladies, for I'll be a Lady no longer, I am my Lady's Chambermaid. Do you know me?  Plucks of her Veil. Mr. Will. 
If you know her not yet, you may know her anon by this, Sir.  Rash. 
By that, Sir. What Sir? Villainy, villainy, etc.  Bab. 
No matter for that, I'll be honest enough to you, Sir.  Rash. 
Pox of your honesty. Villainy, villainy, I say.  Exit Running. Bab. 
You cannot fly so fast, but I can follow.—  Exit Running. Gre. 
Blood and revenge, I say.  Plush. 
I, I, blood, and revenge, I say.  Mr. Will. 
Fie Gentlemen, be patiented, you are mistaken, and the loss you rave for so is but imaginary. Did you not see the Jest?  Gre. 
Yes, yes, I saw the Jest, that is, I saw Rash, and my Lady, hand in hand; But blood, and revenge, I say.  Mr. Will. 
You are mistaken, it was Bab, my Lady's Chambermaid.  Gre. 
How! my Lady's Chambermaid?  Mr. Will. 
The Lady is a Dish for yourself to Feast on, Mr. Gre.  Gre. 
Is't possible? Gull him with the maid, to help me to the Bed of the Mistress?  Mr. Will. 
You see my love, Sir? He's a foolish Remnant-seller, and a Citizen: you are a Gentleman. Hark in your ear, meet her within this hour, at the Chapel in Dukes-Place.  Gre. 
I shall have her then?  Mr. Will. 
You need not doubt it.  Gre. 
Well, if my Father would but die once!  Mr. Will. 
Be gone, be gone, Sir, you'll lose the time else.  Exit. Gregory. 
— Now for you, Mr. Plush, my Lady desires you to meet her within this two hours, at Hyde-park corner; from thence to go to Knightsbridge, and there Enter into those pleasing Bonds, called Matrimony.  Plush. 
Shall I have her then?  Mr. Will. 
You shall but miss not a hair of my Directions, hark,— be gone.—  Whispers. Plush. 
I will not fail, I cannot choose but laugh at the poor Citizen, a Chambermaid?  Exit Laughing. Mr. Will. 
Laugh on, at length I shall have all the cause, and bless myself, thus happily to end, the troubles were begun in one night's pleasure, methinks I'm a Gallant all over: and glory as much in making other men Father my Children, as they do in Marrying their Debauched Misses to their servants, thus far I'm safe: Dwindle must Marry my Lady Antiquity; but who Mr. Plush? Oh I have it: Thrashard has a scolding Daughter, and one, who as much longs for a Husband, as he does for a Wife. Her I'll seduce to meet him: if not the person, the Estate will move her.  
Then all who smile to see Intrigues well done,  
For love, or honour, will Applaud this one.  Exit.  

ACT the Fifth.  Two Chairs set out. Enter Rash like a Puritan, running, and Bab like a Puritan, following him. Rash. 
KEep off, I say, do not pursue the faithful: hast thou not already Metamorphozed me from a man, into a Monster? from a Reverend Citizen, into a dishonourable Badge of Antiquity? I feel the horns, yea the very horns of the Beast as it were rebel against the Flesh, and tell me I am transformed.  Bab. 
From a Monster, to a Saint? Ah consider what a vile Trade you followed, how you Cheated this, that, and tother Friend, and all for want of the true light, which now is plentifully bestowed upon thee.  Rash. 
A true light one you were indeed, and so I fear will prove; But have a care, consider, I may reform, I may find out the ill turn, the evil meanings, and the sinful do of the Brethren; and then reassuming my so late lost Religion, be advanced the City's head, and, as one of its grave Fathers has already sacrificed the Devil and the Pope, and other the less faulty, and harmless sinners of the Age; I may bend all my fury towards you, and with my sword of destruction, which is the Beam of Justice, sweep ye all into that honourable Mansion, Bridewell.  Bab. 
Oh horrid!— canst thou name that place, and not tremble? Or think you that common sewer of Sin, and not despise the founder. Bridewell? Oh horror! A common Bawdy-house, and made for the entertainment of none but lose, lose Women, called by the vulgar Whores.  Rash. 
'Twas built for thee, base Woman; But the spirit's weak, and vexation desires a Resting place, I must sit down.  Bab. 
Alas, poor spirit, I will sit down too, and keep thee company, even in tribulation.  Enter as Married Gregory and old Gent. veiled: after them a Boy with Wine. Gre. 
The business is done, now Widow, and there's no frowning. Come, come, I am the happy man, and so forth.— Boy, some Wine,— here's a health to that Monstrous Coxcomb Rash.—  Drinks and flings the remainder in Rash's Face. Rash. 
Oh, most Diabolical! my zeal pricks me, to give them some dehorting words of Exhortation. Hum, hum.—  Gre. 
Come, come, I say, you shall drink, drink and be drunk, Lady, and then.—  Reels against Rash. Rash. 
Where are you Reeling, d'ye think, you profane abuser?  Gre. 
Why you blind Coxcomb, to a Tavern. Do you hear, Monster? if you will drink you may, if not, you see this.—  Shows him his sword. Rash. 
No, I smell a Satan in it, I defy thee, do what thou darest.  Gre. 
Aminadab, I will beat thee into one Sponge, and then cut thee into pieces, Hypocrite, unless you will do as I do, that is drink, and so forth. Will you take?  Rash. 
No, I will first turn Martyr, and take my affliction patiently, 'tis the oath of the Brethren.  Gre. 
And this is the Oath of the Hectors.  Draws. Rash. 
Do, strike, I am armed with spiritual armour.  Strikes him. Bab. 
Cease, wicked man, to persecute the faithful. These are not stripes of Love. Alas, poor man he melts: and I in pity must relent for company.—  Rash. 
Well, Sir, the Brethren will meet, and then.  Gre. 
Then I will beat them too, and so commend me to 'em. Come along, Widow.  Exit. Gre. Gent. and Boy. Rash. 
My zeal must find revenge, this persecution I find is the Badge of the Brethren.  Enter Mr. Will. like a Quaker. Mr. Will. 
Welcome, dear brother, how have you fought within this Worldly warfare?  Rash. 
Not without great danger of Satan's devices, but being confidently Armed with the Spirit, I came off without any corporal harm, yet I suffered notwithstanding, the persecution of a sword, and had that Hellish liquor Sack most scornfully fling into my Eyes, which made my zeal grow hot to revenge me of my persecutors.  Mr. Will. 
It was well done, and showed the stoutness of a Brother. The Element is good, if in the hands of a zealous Brother: which makes me seldom be without it, I have found great comfort in a cup of Sack.  Plucks out a Bottle. Bab. 
I profess, Brother, you say right.  Mr. Will. 
The Bottle is full, I drink of it to fire my zeal, which is many times apt to grow cold; will it please you to taste of it?  Bab. 
I thank you, and will participate,— trust me, Drinks. 'tis very good, and my spirit moves me to try the Drinks again. Depth of it.— verily, verily, 'tis very comfortable, the very Emblem of water of life.—  Drinks again. Mr. Will. 
How soon is this credulous Couple deluded? by this means I hope to make both Friends, In Zeal, in Drink, and Weddings, all have ends.  Rash. 
It is indeed the very Water of life.  Mr. Will. 
I I, therefore the Brethren use it, trust me Brother, it recovered Mrs. Simple, that was struck into a vision, and wakened her so contentedly, as if she had seen but a dream, it was at a Sermon of one Mr. Thumps.  Bab. 
Indeed I knew him, he was silenced, because he broke a new Pulpit. A very painful man, and much given to labour and Travel.  Mr. Will. 
You say right, he doth much good upon the fisters; but as I was informed, he was silenced for waking a Usurer that was a sleep.  Bab. 
No, no, it was a Churchwarden believe me; but have you any more of this Liquor?  Mr. Will. 
Yea, for the faithful, I have.  Gives Bab, another Bottle. Bab. 
Ananias, take some of this, 'tis good to digest affliction.  Gives it to Rash. Rash. 
Truly, Spouse, thy counsel is at this time very comfortable.  Rash drinks often. Mr. Will. 
After adversity, prosperity hath a pleasing taste. May I participate?  Rash. 
Yea,— and much good Drinks and then gives it to Mr. Will. who drinks all off. may it do unto thy spirit. Is it all off?— 'Tis pity.— Now, Spouse, let us go unto thy Woman, thy deceitful Woman, who hath abused the faithful, but I forgive her.  Bab. 
And I, with all my heart.  Exeunt. Manet Mr. William. Mr. Will. 
Thus far I'm safe and every thing succeeds according to my wish. Now Bab, thou hast a Husband, and one that's made of Wax, and as fit to take any impression, as his zeal is to follow any Religion; But how you came so altered is a Riddle, and one too deep for me to Construe. By this time all my Clients are Married, from the Fop to the Courtier, from the Courtier to the Clown, and from the Clown to the Precisian. All's done, and safely, thanks to my happy Stars.  
What I shall get by this Prodigious Birth,  
Is yet unknown, all I desire is mirth.  Exit. 
SCENE Drawn, Discovers the Captain in a Chair, Sir Oliver disguised like the Doctor, Sir Robert, Lady Mallory, and the Lady Lovely weeping. Sir Ro. 
How is't, Captain?  Capt. 
Faith a weak man, Sir Robert.  Sir Ro. 
Nay, nay Sister than I shall chide you. Weeping? Come, come, dry your eyes, 've wept too much already.  Lov. 
Had I thought to come, had been to meet this new occasion, I tell you plainly, you'd come alone for me.  Capt. 
That 'tis my fault, so many tears are shed, I cannot but acknowledge, and could my death, which once I thought more certain far than life, make reparation for that rash act, of which, I, wretched I, was Author, you soon should find an ample satisfaction.  Lov. 
It was not that we came for; but hearing that worthy Gentleman, Sir Oliver, upon this bloody accident was fled, we came to know the certainty from you.  Capt. 
He fled. To stop his flight, I gave him what encouragement I could, told him my wounds were nothing, and proclaimed the hand of Noble Bellingham, as white as innocency. Do you see this Ring, your tears will hardly let you see it, yet Ladypray look upon it. Can you call to mind a former sight on't?  Lov. 
I have seen it sure, Sir Oliver's, I take it.  Capt. 
Lady, ' 'twas.  Lov. 
What comfort yields the sight on't?  Capt. 
I have shown this, to acquit me of those Treacherous thoughts, that you suspected in me, 'gainst the life of Noble Bellingham, who as he parted to take a journey in uncertain Paths, left this Ring with me.  Sir Ro. 
You have charmed us now from all our harsh suspicions.  Cap. 
I do not grieve so much, this loss of blood, nor all the smart goes with it, as by this I have lost the sight and the society of such a fair Example of all goodness; I could tell you how much beyond the sufferings of a man,) I dared him to the field, how meeting there, he did not look upon me as a Foe, but took into his Embraces my wounded body, brought me from the field, and to the diligence, and well known skill of this good man did leave me, and with him his ample satisfaction for my cure, or whatsoever might be demanded.  Sir Ro. 
Sir, you have given him a fair Character.  Capt. 
He were base than Envy that would not; and all this he did i'th' honour of your Beautiful Lady.  Sir Ro, 
Lady!  Mall. 
Madam.  Sir Ro. 
Dear Sister.  Capt. 
He loved you dearly; can his praises then offend your Ear?  Lov. 
No; Every syllable of his commendations is Music; but to think that for my sake, his much commended worth should thus be lost, O I could weep myself into a senseless statue, O Bellingham, O Noble, Noble Bellingham! No hope again to see him?  Weeps. Capt. 
Do you wish it?  Lov. 
As life, or health, or Heaven.  Capt. 
You will not then deny one kindness to me?  Sir Ro. 
What is't, Captain?  Cap. 
Only this, Sir Robert, I would beg since she desires to see him, the favour to wear this Diamond, until I find fit time to send it to him.  All. 
Send it?  Capt. 
Yes, no strict inquiries of me, if you dare trust me.  Lov. 
But direct me, Sir, I'll carry't him myself.  Capt. 
You know my bosom, Lady, if you will send it?  Lov. 
Take it, Captain.— But,  Capt. 
I conceive all that you can urge me to, and will perform it to your own wish.  Lov. 
But why returns not Bellingham? Or doth he (hearing his goodness has Enthralled my heart,) neglect me now, 'cause I neglected him, when my fresh griefs enforced me? If he do I must confess it but a just revenge: and so as long as grief shall give me leave, I'll patiently endure it.  Cap. 
But you shall not, you have endured beyond a Woman's strength, and shall endure no longer. Mr. Doctor, you are the man must Cure her.  Sir Ol. 
Discovers himself,— Beauteous Lady, 'twas your command I should not trouble you with any tedious Love-suit; and you see I've done what you enjoined me, now I hope, I have your voluntary grant?  Lov. 
I am now what Noble Bellingham shall please to make me.  Sir Ro. 
No doubt but he'll make much of thee, Sister, wilt thou not, Knight? My brave Sir, of a thousand per annum.  Sir Ol. 
She's now my own, and in this union, Sir, the best delights that her desires would have, are mine, my own, and I shall so pursue 'um.  Enter Mr. William. Sir Ro. 
The news with you?  Mr. Will. 
Your Tenant Thrashard having information you and your Lady, were come to visit your melancholy Sister, By way of thanks and gratitude for your last kindness, has brought some of his Neighbouring Shepherds, to present you with a Dance.  Sir Ro. 
He's welcome, and if it be no trouble to you, Sister, give them admittance,  Lov. 
You may command me, Brother.  Music within, they all sit down, than Enter Thrashard, Abram, Margaret, and Five more dressed like Shepherds and Shepherdesses, they Dance. After the Dance, they Sing. 

SONG.  

Charming Beauty, you whose Eyes  
Delight in love and sacrifice:  
Since your Glories shine so bright,  
Let no sorrows make it night,  
Banish all the griefs away,  
While delights about you play.  
For the Pleasures of youth, and the Joys of your Bliss,  
Is to Frolic, Admire, to Revel, and Kiss.  
Cho. For the, etc.   

The sweets of your life, on that Union doth wait,  
Immortalised Joys are the blessings of Fate:  
The Gods though made drunk with their pleasures above,  
Think nothing Diviner, than that of your Love;  
For love to excess, by enjoyment made strong,  
Makes Mortals immortally frolic along,  
In delights uncontroul d, like the powers above,  
We surfeit and faint with the pleasures of love.  
Cho. In delights, etc.   

Each passionate look, and each melting embrace,  
Each glory attending the charms of your face,  
So subtly attracts, and so strongly commands,  
We are slaves being free, and free when in bands.  
Unkindness in frowns, the mandate of hate,  
Makes Hell of what Heaven Decreed for our fate.  
But you in this Empire so tutelar prove,  
That Angels are subjects, and fight for your love.  
Cho. But you in, etc.    Song ended, they dance: after the dance, enter Rash, Bab, and Mr. William. Sir Rob. 
Tenant and Friends, we thank you, and assure yourselves it shan't go unrewarded: but now to Church; nay we'll not lose a minute.  Mr. Will. 
I beseech you stay a little, there's more mirth in your way, and such as I dare promise will be worth the looking on: see, it appears.  Sir Rob. 
Who's this, Mr. Rash?  Ras. 
The same, an't please you.  Sir Oliv. 
Your suit continued still, Sir?  Ras. 
I have turned up another suit now, Sir.  Sir Rob. 
Your Wife!  Ras. 
Even so, Sir.  Bab. 
Verily so, Sir.— Do not you know me, Lady?  Love. 
Truth, not I  Bab. 
Nor you, nor you, nor you?  Mal. 
We know thee not. What art thou?  Bab. 
This 'tis to put off our vain and superfluous colours, and to walk as becometh the zealously metamorphosed. I was your creature, Lady.  Love. 
How? my creature!  Bab. 
In the phrase of the world 'twas so, but I am now my own, yet verily I do err, for no wife is her own disposer, verily none, for we, to affirm sincerely, are but members of our head, the man our spouse and our superior.  All. 
How, Bab?  Mr. Will. 
The same, believe me.  Capt. 
How comes she to speak in the nose so?  Mr. Will. 
The tone of the Brethren; but what do you think of this member, Bab?  Bab. 
Though begot, and conceived in vanity, yet being born in the state of Matrimony, the offence may no doubt be remitted, and the innocent in time may prove a most zealous member.  Sir Oliv. 
And what think you, Sir?  Ras. 
I think as my wife thinks, for man and wife are one.  Bab. 
Verily you have said, and said like a zealous husband.  Enter Plush, and Gillian veiled. Mr. Will. 
Much joy betid your Worship.  Plus. 
I thank you. For having this Beauty, I have all the joys my auspicious Stars could give me.  Mr. Will. 
Well, Gregory, if you do hang yourself—  Plus. 
Why, if he does, he does, we cannot help it, we are now man and wife.  Mr. Will. 
For better, for worse.  Plus. 
Then for better, for worse, I will keep her; why there's another Rival of mine, Sir Oliver; say he should take the same Journey, and go to Heaven in a halter after him, can I help it?  Sir Oliv. 
I confess you cannot, thank you, Mr. Plush.  Plush. 
I did but say, if you should, Sir.  Sir Oliv. 
No, though the loss be somewhat grievous to me, the sorrow shall not go so deep, she's yours.  Plus. 
As sure as the Church can make her.  Sir Oliv. 
What must be, must be, Sir; much joy betid you.  Plus. 
Thank you.  Enter Gregory, and Old Gentlewoman veiled. Gre. 
Now, Lady, in spite of all my Rivals, you are mine.  Old. Gentlew. 
I am, Sir.  Gre. 
I know you are, and thereupon—  Offers to kiss. Mr. Will. 
Not a kiss, till you come to your Chamber, and then she's your own all over.  Gre. 
'Tis enough: now if my Father would but die once.  Mr. Will. 
When Plush shall hear of this, he'll hang himself.  Gre. 
If he do make a wry mouth at the match, I cannot help it, I should not do so by him though.  
Save you, gentlemans, we have the Lady.  Plus. 
We have the Lady, gentlemans.  Sir Ro. 
Is my Sister divided between you?  Sir Oliv. 
You cannot both have the Lady.  Plus. 
Alas, poor Gregory.  Gre. 
Alas, poor Plush.  Lov. 
Alas, poor Coxcombs: here's a coil indeed about a worthless shadow: what am I, Sir?  All. 
Alas, poor Gregory,— Alas poor Plush.  Plus. 
Why, who have I then?  Gill. 
Why, who do you think you have? this is no Ivy-bush, nor I an Owl. D'ye stare upon me?  Thr. 
My daughter Gillian!  Abr. 
What my sister Gillian! I thought by her scolding, she would be a Lady.  Plus. 
Are you my wife?  Gill. 
I cannot tell, how do you think, Sir, ha'?  Sir Ro. 
Come, Sir, be contented, she's young and handsome, and no doubt will prove a fortune to you. But what say you, Sir?  Gre. 
Why, I say, I know not what to say, she is not very old, is she?  Sir Rob. 
In her Hood, some fifty, but in some other dress she has, she may pass for a thing of twenty.  Gre. 
Here be some Gutters, Channels, and long Lanes, but being filled up with a little Plaster of Paris, the face may pass.  Sir Ro. 
For a Paris-Garden face it may, Sir.  Old Gentlw. 
Come, ne'er be melancholy, you shall find a woman of me, I'll warrant you.  Gre. 
Thou speakest like a good old Gentlewoman. Well, an my wife would but die once.  Old Gentlew. 
How, sweetheart? your Father.  Gre. 
I know what I said, I'll warrant you, if my wife would but die once.  Mr. Will. 
Come, you are so melancholy; why here's a man suffers as much as you▪ or you, Mr. Plush and yet you see he's patiented.  Ras. 
I thought I had married a Lady too, but by Lady there is no such matter, we must be contented now though.  

SONG.  
You that languished so long for those whom you find,  
Have kindness for you, like the rest of mankind,  
Though Love and that cheat no man can endure,  
Yet be constant and kind, though they're false and unsure,  
For in time you'll have something to ease a sad heart,  
The pleasure to think how your Rivals do smart.  
Here's a Brother, a Fop, and a country Clown;  
A Sister, a Scold, and a Jilt of the Town:  
These Babbies of Grace, to be faithful, as yet,  
Resolve to debauch, by the Rules of the Writ.  
To increase without fear of a monstrous preamble,  
And hold forth to all they shall meet in their ramble.  
To be faithful and true, are the Rules they admire:  
To oblige every Brother, and quench every fire,  
These Lambs of a Fold, like young Adamites move,  
Make Text their enjoyment, Religion their love:  
In a Pulpit they'll melt, like a Spark in a Coach,  
Thump the Cushion and Preach, though they're big with debauch.   Bab. 
You may abuse the faithful, who are big with Grace and Labour, and rail against those careful Shepherds, who strive with the sweat of their brows to keep their Flocks from straying, you may.—  From the time that Plush and Gillian entered, the Captain entertains Margaret in dumbshow till now. Capt. 
The Token I remember, and that after this Lady's Marriage I gave it thee, with a promise, If ever I lived to come ashore again, never to marry other.  Mar. 
You did, Sir.  Capt. 
Heaven, I see, is just in every thing, and would not let me violate that Faith I had given up to thee. And since it has preserved me from a Fate severe as was my Merit: thus I make good my promise; Which is thy Father?  Mar. 
This, Sir.  Capt. 
Then to him I kneel, hoping he'll be so truly kind to give me his consent.  Thr. 
Captain, take it, you are a worthy Gentleman, and much deserve a better fortune.  Abr. 
What another Lady of the Family of the Thrashards! nay then I feel Honour creeps on apace, and I may be a Lord. Your servant, Brothers; nay I am bold, but 'tis my ambition to be acquainted with Gentlemen.  Capt. 
And you are welcome, we both are Brothers now.  Sir Rob. 
Why, God a mercy, Captain, now I love you dearly; and to express how much I dote upon you, let's have a Dance, and then we'll move to Church, where I will play the Father.  Capt. 
I thank you, Sir.  A Dance. Capt. 
Now, Gentlemen, let's go.  
Never was day so doubly blessed before,  
Contemned by one, I found what I adore.  
Double Affection too doth crown the End:  
Finding a Mistress, I have found a Friend.  Sir Oliv. 
Honour to such excess, in you I've found,  
Love, Virtue, Merit, it at once has crowned.  
Your Generosity so highly moved,  
By all the World you ought to be beloved.  
When friendship to such height doth act its part,  
At once you conquer, body, soul, and heart.  Exeunt.    

EPILOGUE.  

YOu did expect some bawdy Farce to day,  
Some glorious nonsense, or a thundering Play,  
Enough to fright the hussing Wits away:  
But you are cheated, and instead of either,  
've tired your patience with Harangue of neither.  
How pleasant 'twas to see some sleep i' th' Pit,  
Some serious Judges, and there dream of Wit,  
Awake, I'm sure they never thought of it.  
Some in a corner 'mongst the numerous crowd  
It seems were pleased, they laughed so monstrous loud;  
'Twas not at Play, but Beauty under cloud.  
D— me, says one▪ she's handsome, wondrous fair;  
Another, rot the Jilt, if two compare  
In notes together, all the Pit despair.  
Then humming round the creature yet unknown,  
They court her to-unmask, that being done,  
Their stomaches nauseate, and their love grows cool,  
And all retire from unregarded fool.  
We have no charms t' attract your face this way,  
No gaudy , nor Scenes to grace our Play.  
Here you must be content with yea and nay.  
But let that pass: be kind, Gallants, for fear,  
Through me your double deal do appear.  
I'm grown precise, a Sister, and a Saint,  
Laid by the Trade of Chambermaid and Paint.  
The lewd vocation of informing Cully,  
Your Miss admits th' Amours of such a Bully.  
They meet in private, and to tell you truly,  
This night th' intrigue is done with Betty B—  
Then Spark, despising all his Mistress charms,  
Perhaps, takes me into his longing Arms;  
With patience leaves what was before his right,  
And all to shun the danger of the fight.  
But roaring Huff for such affronts will cry,  
D— me, the Rascal and the Jilt shall die.  
But this is past, I am a Convert grown,  
Abhor the lewd devices of the Town.  
Move as the humour moves, sometimes be bold,  
A Shepherd may debauch in his own Fold.  
The Lambs sometimes must play; should they be dull,  
A Sister ne'er would get her belly full.  
Am I not happy then, in my new bands?  
Gallants, do you confirm it with your hands.  
Isee your looks prognosticate a storm,  
And if you please, your Quaker shall reform.  
Religious Players, in this wicked Age,  
Appear like Devils, and disgrace the Stage:  
Those serious Fops have ruined all our pains.  
To shun our House will make a Saint of Haynes.   
FINIS.