prologue.  

HEre you're all met, and look for a set speech,  
Put into Rhyme, to court you, and beseech  
Your Worships, but to hear and like the Play,  
But I, I vow, have no such part to say.  
I'm sent a-wooing to you, but how to do 't,  
I han't the skill; 'tis true I've a new Suit,  
And Ribbons fashionable, yclept Fancies,  
But for the Compliments, the Trips, and Dances,  
Our Poet can't abide 'em, and he swears,  
They're all but cheats; and sugared words but jeers.  
he's harkening there: and if I go about  
To make a Speech, he vows, he'll put me out.  
Nor dare I write t'you: therefore in this condition,  
I'll turn my courtship into admonition.  
When a good thing is proffered, don't be nice,  
Our Poet vows, you shan't be proffered twice.    

The Persons of the Comedy.  
Careless, a young wild Heir.  
Sir Val. Thrivewell, his Uncle that adopted him Heir.  
Saleware, a Citizen and a Cuckold.  
Saveall, Sir Valentine's demure Steward.  
L. Lovely, a Wencher.  
Bellamy, a woman disguised, and his Steward.  
Wat, a blunt fellow, Careless's Servingman.  
Old Bellamy.  
Lady Thrivewell.  
Mrs. Alicia, Saleware's light wife  
Mrs. Crostill, a rich vintner's Widow, and humorous.  
Phoebe, Careless his Whore.  
Closet, an old Crone, Nursekeeper to L. Thrivewell.  
Apprentices.  
serving-men.  
And Attendants.  
1. Mad couple.  
2. Novella.  
3. Beggar.  
The Scene LONDON.   

A MAD COUPLE WELL MATCHED.  

ACT. I.  

SCENE. I.  Careless, Wat. Car. 
THou hast delivered my Letter?  Wat. 
Yes Sir, to Mr. Saveall your Uncle's friend: But he has stood your friend so long, and so often, to so little purpose in moving your Uncle for you, that he holds it utterly in vain, to urge him any further, he told me.  Car. 
Thou shouldst ha' told him, I would not be so answered.  Wat. 
Yes; and than he would have told me, let your Master take his course.  Car. 
Then you should ha' told him again, I have taken all the courses I could, or as any Gentleman can to maintain myself like one; But all my courses are run out, and I have not breath, nor know any ground whereon to begin a new one, unless that thing my Uncle sets me up again, nor have I any means to attain to that, but by his Mediation.  Wat. 
Then would he ha' told me again, what all your courses have been. Namely, running into debt by all the ways can be imagined, and cheating by all could be invented, then that the said thing, (as you call it) your Uncle, before he cast you quite off, had redeemed you out of Prison, and several holds, within the space of 15. months 14. times.  Car. 
That was not once a Month then, or if it had, what had that been to him? 'twas I that suffered, thou shouldst ha' told him, not he.  Wat. 
He would ha' told me then again, That several Redemptions, cost your Uncle at least 2000 l. And that upon your last revolt when he quite gave you over for a castaway, two years since, he cast the third thousand with you, upon condition never to afflict him more. And then he Married in hope to get an heir.  Car. 
I that Marrying spoiled all.  Wat. 
Because you should not after his death cast away all the rest of the thousands, and ten thousands which you might have lived to inherit, if your Uncle's love or Mr. Saveall's counsel could have prevailed with you against the Devil, and debauchedness.  Car. 
Pox on't, let it all go, let that wretched Uncle go, and let Saveall go for a punctual ass as he is. I confess he has by his saving help pieced me with my Uncle a score of times at least. What had once more been to him?  Wat. 
Sir, it were better for you to think upon some course by ourself, and me your Creature (that have stuck to you, or followed you through all fortunes) to maintain Rich Lace, and Bravery upon you. And think in time too before this be worn out, upon some new ways for your supplies—  Car. 
I cannot, nor will I trouble my brains to think of any, I will rather die here in Ram alley, or walk down to the Temple, and lay myself down alive, in the old Synagogue, cross-legged among the Monumental Knights there, till I turn Marble with'em. Think quoth 'a I what should I think on?  Wat. 
On your poor Whore Sir (as you have brought her) she's in worse case than yourself; your Clothes are good enough—  Car. 
I there's the Devil. I would do something for her if I knew how. But what have I not done that can be done by a forlorn heir?  Wat. 
Why though the Dice, and all other Household games, and all the Cheats belonging unto them have failed you by your and their discoveries, till none dare venture so near you as a Man hurls a Die or Skirrs a Card. Though all your hidden ways in Hyde-park races are trod out, and all your bowling booties beaten bare off o' the Grounds and Allies; and the sweet Honeycombs of all your Cockpit cozenages cut off. Though all your Arts of borrowing are crossed out of all Men's Books before you offer at 'em, while your old Debts stand fairly written, and all your Marts miscarry of putting out for credit, Venison to Citizens, or early Cherries, coddlings and Apricots to their Wives avail you nothing, cannot something yet be found?  Car. 
Nothing, nothing. All Projects are confounded.  Wat. 
Did your Father leave you nothing but wit to live upon for this? And did he leave you that but for years, and not for Life? and is the term expired?  Car. 
Hold thy peace. I am casting for something to be done by me, that shall be worth, and cost my life, to shame my Uncle.  Wat. 
There's a plot! Think of your poor whore Sir, how shall she live, if you cast away yourself?  Car. 
I must leave her once thou know'st.  Wat. 
If you could leave her now, and betake yourself handsomely to other Women, I have thought on a course.  Car. 
What, quickly, what is't?  Wat. 
To set up a Male bawdy house.  Car. 
Fie upon't.  Wat. 
You are handsome, lovely, and I think able to do one Man's work, two or three such Gentlemen more which I know, and can describe to you, with the ways I'll find to bring in custom shall fill your purses—  Car. 
And empt our bones. I ever had enough of one Mistress Variety would destroy me. No Gentlemen can be able to hold it out. They are too weak to make common He whores.  Wat. 
For a little while Sir, till we have got a stock of rich clothes; And than we will put Draymen, and Wineporters, Cornish Wrestlers & such like into those clothes; and make them Country Cavaliers. Have you not seen course snout-fair drudges, clapped into bravery, that would do more bodily service in a Brothel than twenty ladies' Daughters? They are the Game-bears of a Bawdy-house, can play ten single courses for a clean-bred Gentlewoman's one, we will hire fellows for groats a piece a day, that shall (without the additaments of Clary, caudle or Cock-broth) get us forty pieces a Man before Night, or perhaps a hundred by next Morning, out of such she▪ customers, as an Aunt of mine shall find out for us.  Car. 
O base Villain! No I'll never fall so deep below a Gentleman, as to be Master of a bawdy-house.  Wat. 
Very good decayed Gentlemen have done a much; though I urge this, but for your pastime sir.  Car. 
No my first plot shall stand, I will do some notorious death-deserving thing (though these clothes go to th'Hangman for't, what care I) in defiance of him that was my Uncle, and his Methodical, Grave, and Orthographical speaking friend, Mr. Saveall that calls People Pe-o-ple.  Enter Saveall. 
O Mr. Saveall how have you honoured me, how am I bound to you for this visit! Sir hearing that my Uncle was come to Town, and you with him, I did presume to write to you.  Sav. 
Send forth your Man.  Car. 
Go forth—  Exit Wat. Sav. 
One Servant is not fit for all Offices, although you keep no more; you presumed indeed, I can no less than call it a presumption, although it were but unto me you write; I speak not this in the behalf of any dignity in me; but that you should overween that I had ability to wrestle any more with your overgrateful Uncle in your behalf. Therein was your outrecuidance.  Car. 
The miserablest Man on Earth! in having wearied out my worthiest friend, on whom the sum of all my hopes was cast.  Sav. 
No, I am not wearied; But still in the same full strength: yet my modesty dissuadeth me from using strength above reason, and my reason prevaileth with me not to strive against a Torrent.  Car. 
He is then inexorable, and I must perish. But did you try him for me this last time?  Sav. 
I have both tried, and tempted him to his vexation.  Car. 
But did you urge that pious act of mine Which he once vowed should never be forgot, Or unrewarded by him?  Sav. 

Your standing upon merit in that Act  
Perplexeth nature in him, and confounds  
Both your desert, and his benevolence,  
And now since you have urged it, I'll tell you,  
Your Act was undeniable, most noble,  
And glorious in a Nephew, greater piety  
Could not have been expected in a Son:  
When from the Swords of Thieves and Murderers,  
Your valour rescued him— But—   Car. 
I and my Man I'm sure made four of the stoutest purses fly for't, that ever set our Country o' the score: After they had him down, and their points at his breast and throat, he crying out for help, when I came on by chance at a time too when I was in his displeasure, nay he hated me a whole year together before that, and yet I did it, and more than so—  Sav. 
Fare you well Sir, I thought to have said all this for you, and more than so too. But—  Car. 
Nay sweet Mr. Saveall—  Sav. 
Good Mr. Careless, as I can hear I would be heard sometimes.  Car. 
Indeed I cry you mercy, pray sir speak.  Sav. 

I was commending of your act, and do so still.  
You did express yourself in blood and nature  
A perfect Kinsman; and your piety  
Drew blessings on you: for whereas before  
Your Uncle left you off to Reprobation,  
He then receives you a Son, (being his Sisters.)  
Adopted you, intended you his heir,  
And out of his Estate then presently  
Allowed you two hundred pounds per annum,  
And gave your Man for what he suffered  
In the conflict an hundred Marks—   Car. 
Poor Rogue! and he deserved it, I'll be sworn for a thief's mark that he received; a cut o' the Coxcomb that cracked his skull, so that he could never bear his drink since, as he could ha' done before. For sir, as we came in, I having put by the thrusts of three of 'em, the fourth man with a full blow—  Sav. 
Fare you well Sir the second time—  Car. 
Nay courteous Mr. Saveall.  Sav. 
I came to speak not with you altogether, but unto you for to be heard.  Car. 
Sir I will hear you with all due respect.  Sav. 

Your Uncle having done so gratefully, and so plentifully for you.  
You building still on merit for that service,  
Did hold him so fast bound that you presumed  
To run upon more extravagancies  
In all the outways of debauchery,  
Till for the one good deed you did for him  
He did you forty, in restoring you  
From Surfeits, Wants, Wounds and Imprisonments,  
Till overborne with charge, and more with anguish,  
At your outrageous, unexampled Riots,  
He gave you an irrevocable farewell, yet then at your departure.—   Car. 
Yet then I lived and could have done till now, merely by being his Nephew, and supposed his heir, had not he married; but his Marriage turned the hearts of all believing Citizens from me, where before a tailor could have made me run through all the credit i' the Town, When in a suit Clinquant, and alamode They could inform themselves, whose heir I was, But to say truth I vexed him into Wedlock, for before he valued not a Wife at a bachelor's Button.  Sav. 
Farewell to you the third time.  Car. 
Sir, you shall see me die first, and that instantly; That you may tell my Uncle I'll be no more his trouble, or charge, unless in charity he'll send to bury me.  Sav. 
You will not desperately work a violent end upon yourself?  Car. 
No Sir, the devil's not so great with me; but my heart, I feel it ready to break. My Uncle is no more my Uncle, nor you my friend, all by my own fault, and what should I do here, but in to my Bed, and out o' the World presently. Wat. Wat.  Enter Wat. 
I here Sir!  Sav. 
I have dallied too long, and tempted him too far I fear.  Car. 
Lay down my Bed.  Wat. 
Your Wench is come indeed, but I hope you will not to bed before he be gone.  Car. 
Lay down my bed I say. But first unbutton me.  Wat. 
Lord how his heart beats! pangs of death I fear.  Sav. 
Not so I hope. I will now come to the point Sir, Mr. Careless be comforted.  Car. 
I am, and well resolved, I thank my better Angel.  Sav. 
Your Uncle's friends with you.  Car. 
Alas, how can that be?  Sav. 
I thought your spirit had been higher.  Car. 
It will be Sir anon, I hope.  Sav. 
I have but dallied with you to search your temper.  Wat. 
But you have searched too deep I fear sir.  Car. 
Ah!—  Sav. 
Your Uncle is friends with you, I say so far as to make a further trial of your nature, you may be yet his heir; for your Aunt despaireth of any Child by him, having fruitlessly been married now these two years.  Car. 
Ah!— But good Sir, can this be?  Sav. 
It is, and I will bring you to him. And see that all be well.  Car. 
Your noble friendship hath revived me sir, O run and fetch my cloak.  Enter Wat with his Cloak. 
Tell Phebe I cannot stay to give her any satisfaction now, I must go see my Uncle first.  Exit Wat. Sav. 
Poor Gentleman, how weakly he standeth! The sight of his Uncle will recover him. Come Mr. Careless let us go.  Car. 
Sir what do you think if I should first according to the reformation of my mind cut off my undecent hair, and change this garish apparel for a civil well worn Students suit, I can be fitted presently hard by.  Sav. 
No, the mind reformed is enough, your habit well becometh you.  Exit. Wat. 
Now Wit an't be thy will go with him. And I hope this will be his last hot fit of the Uncle.  Enter Phebe. Phe. 
Your Masters gone forth it seems.  Wat. 
Called by his fortune, he is so.  Phe. 
Shuns he the sight of me? I'll overtake him.  Wat. 
O your patience sweet Mistress Phebe, a little patience.  
he's gone to be happy, and to make you happy. I dare promise you a Satin Gowen within this seven-night.  Phe. 
For let me tell thee Mistress Phebe bright he's reconciled to his Uncle Knight.  
Away Pimp, Flamsted, I came to be serious with him, to let him know the miseries I suffer, by the wrongs he has done me, and that I can nor will no longer bear 'em.  Wat. 
Nor him neither will you? Take heed what you say Madam Marion.  Phe. 
No nor him neither, you pandarly Parasite, till he make his vows good, and me an honest Woman.  Wat. 
by’r lady, a shrewd task, and I fear an impossible work.  Phe. 
Sirrah, I will claw your ugly Face till thou undertakest it with him, to make it easy.  Wat. 
Hold, hold, I'll do you all the good I can,  Phe. 
O will you so?  Wat. 
How desperately valiant a Whore grows, when she is so poor that her clothes fear no tearing.  
But by what means can you hope to bring this work about?  Phe. 
You know I have a wealthy Kinsman in the City.  Wat. 
O Mr. Saleware, and he has a Wife too that bears it up bravely.  Phe. 
Pimp impudent, shall I claw your Face into blushes at my injuries, to be mocked out of my Maidenhead, when I was upon a good Match in the Country; Then with a promise of Marriage, to be enticed from my friends into fool's Paradise (that was a new title for the City) and here to be used, and abused from Lodging to Lodging, by him that now flies me, for the decays he hath brought me to? But my Kinsman has money though I have none, and for money there is Law to be found, and in a just cause he will not let me sink, he says: for I have told him all.  Wat. 
But not the how many times, the whence, the where's, and the wherewithals, I hope have you?  Phe. 
Sirrah, I shall show you and your Master too a way to more civility, since I am thus abused, and slighted.  Wat. 
You have schooled me handsomely, and brought me into sense of your injuries: you have been overwronged, but not overwrought, nor overworn, you do excel in Beauty, Strength and Spirit, which makes you in your very anger now appear so lovely, that I profess myself your Creature. What would a kiss of this fair Hand now make me do, and of those Lips what not?  she strikes him. Phe. 
Away you Creature.  Wat. 
Leave these temptations; do not strike me too deeply in love with you.  Phe. 
Away you Creature.  Wat. 
'Tis true I am your Creature, as I am my Masters; And sometimes the serving Creature, breaks his fast with a bit off the Spit before the same meat is served up to his Master's table, but is never denied to Dive upon his Masters leavings, you cannot think what an appetite that frown gives me.  Phe. 
You are no saucy Rascal.  Wat. 
Good wit too! My appetite needs no Sauce; nor shall you need to make use of Law, or Friend against my Master, but myself.  Phe. 
You!  Wat. 
Be ruled by me, if I do not lay you down, and join with you presently in a course that shall content you, then— hang me Lady at your door.—  Phe. 
What do you mean?  Wat. 
In the next room we shall find Pen, Ink and Paper, you shall write him such a Letter (as I will dictate to you) that shall so nettle him.  Phe. 
Nay I did intend to leave him part of my mind in writing before I went.—  Enter Saleware. Ph. 
O x, I want you.—  Wat. 
A pox of this interupting Cuckold, he hinders all Trading, but his Wives, 'zounds I was going with full speed a Tilt, as the learned say, had not this horn-head come, we had writ lines together should have put down Hero and Leander—  
Hark you Mistress Phebe, is this your Kinsman that you told me, you had told all the business to?  Sale. 
Yes, sir, I am the Gentleman, and she has told me so much, Sir that I must tell you, to tell your Master from me, and as I would tell him myself if he were here personally present, he is a most dishonest Gentleman if he do her not lawful right by Marrying her; and that right I came to demand, and obtain of him, or to denounce the Law against him.  Wat. 
How happy are you, that you came short to tell him so, else he would ha' so beaten you, as never was Citizen beaten, since the great Battle of Finsbury-Field.  Sal. 
Your great words cannot make me fear his blows (I am not dashed nor bashed) nor cross him out of my Book, for fear of any such payment. I have him there for four score pound as you know, though you are pleased to forget me, But Sapientia mea mihi stultitia tua tibi.  Wat. 
Cry mercy Mr. Saleware, is it you? I hope Mistress Saleware is well, your most exquisite, and most courtly wife; the Flower-de-luce of the City.  Sal. 
Well wag well, you must not now put me off with my wife, she's well and much respected; I come to speak of, and for my distressed Kinswoman, her whom your wicked Master has most wickedly dealt withal. He has deflowered and deluced her, and led her from her Friends, and out of her Country into fool's Paradise— By making her believe he would Marry her, and here he has put her on, and put her off, with hopes and delays till she is come to both woe and want; And (which may prove her most affliction, if he be suffered to forsake her) she is with child by him.  Wat. 
Say you so, Mistress Phebe? here's small show of it yet.  Pre. 
Sirrah, I shall show you and your Master too a way to more civility, if I be thus abused and slighted.  Wat. 
By the way Mr. Saleware, how many children have you by your most amiable wife?  Sal. 
Sir, that needs not to fall by the way of our discourse.  Wat. 
But by the way I speak of getting children. Or I pray tell me, did not you correct one of her children once, for which your wife reprehended you, and bade you correct your own? And how then shall my Master be sure that this (if it be one) is his?  Sal. 
What an Asinego's this? I shall find a time sir, to talk with your Master. In the mean time I tell you that my Kinswoman is a Gentlewoman of as good blood as himself, and of the best in Herefordshire.  Wat. 
Yes, Welsh-blood.  Sal. 
And shall find friends that shall not see her abused by you nor him. There is Law to be found for money, and money to be found for Friends, and Friends to be found in the Arches, and so tell your Master, come away x.  Wat. 
But one word before you go Sir, is this Gentlewoman, (who was but a Country Chambermaid when my Master took her to his mercy) of such boasted blood, your cousin by your own, or by your wife's side I pray?  Sal. 
Sirrah, like a saucy companion as you are, though you meddle with me that am a common-council-man; I charge you meddle not with my wife, you have had two or three jerks at her.  Wat. 
I was warned before Sir, in my own understanding: for she is for great persons.  Sal. 
Then know your distance Sir.  Wat. 
Yet give me leave to wait you down Sir, cud shoe did it tell it Kinsman that it is got with Champkin.  Phe. 
You are a Pandarly Rascal, and I'll be a terror both to you, and your Patron.  Exit omnes. Enter Thrivewell, Lady. Thr. 
How can you think so?  La. 
Think! I see't apparently upon your Face, and hear it in your sighs, your broken sleeps tonight, when your own groans waked you, declared no less; But had I had the power of some wives with their husbands I could have fetched it out of you waking once (I thank you) you took me in your arm, but when you found 'twas I you turned away as in a dream.  Thr. 
Sure you dream now, whence can this talk proceed else?  La. 
I must not give it over till I know the cause of your melancholy fit, do you doubt my duty, or my loyalty? perhaps you do, and so make me the cause of your affliction.  Thr. 
May such a thought within me, stick me to the endless torments.  La. 
'Tis lately entertained, whate'er it be; you came heart whole to Town, and Jovial. Ha' you been drawn for security into Bonds by any of my friends, for great sums, and forced to pay 'em?  Thr. 
Fie, fie.  La. 
Are any great friends of yours in question, attainted, imprisoned, or run away?  Thr. 
Pshaw.  La. 
Or are you further grieved about your Nephew, Careless? I thought that your friend Saveall, and myself had made his peace with you; and that you had sent for him, do you repent that?  Thr. 
No, no, sweet heart, he shall be welcome. And pray let me entreat you make no further inquisition; If (as you suppose) there be a trouble in my thoughts, I shall soon pass it over.  La. 
Tell me, or I shall prove the greater trouble. I would those few examples of women, that could not keep their husband's counsels had been burnt, and the woman too rather than I should be disinherited thus, and slighted by a Husband—  Thr. 
Nay then you'll grieve me indeed.  La. 
There has been many examples of discreet women that have not only kept their husband's counsels, but advise and help 'em in extremities, and delivered 'em out of dangers.  Thr. 
I pray content yourself.  La. 
Be you content to tell me then what troubles you. And I pray you tell me speedily, now presently; or (excuse me in my vow,) it is the last request that ever I will make to you, and the last question I'll ever ask you, and (the easier to get it from you) I promise you by the continuance of my faith to you (which by this kiss I seal) Be it a deadly injury to myself, I will forgive it freely; not be troubled at it.  Thr. 

I shall do that now, which few wise men would.  
But she's discreet, and has a fortitude  
Above the boast of women; should that fail,  
And this too weighty knowledge for a wife  
Should prove a torment to her, I'm excused  
She pulls it on herself, and for Revenge  
Should she against her protestation move it,  
I am enough above her.   La. 
You are resolved it seems to keep your secret Unto yourself, much good Sir may it do you.  Thr. 

No, you shall know it, sir, and (if unshaken  
Now, in your love to me) the wonder of all wives  
You're bound by a fair pledge, the kiss you gave me,  
To be unmoved, and to forgive it though  
It be a deadly injury to yourself;  
It is, and 'tis a great one; and so great  
But that you have sealed my pardon, the hid knowledge  
Of it should feed upon my Heart, and Liver,  
Till life were banished thence, rather than pull  
Your just revenge upon me; yet you frown not!  
But before I declare it to your Justice,  
Let me renew your mercy. Kiss.  
And on this Altar, which I have profaned  
While it breathed sacred incense, now with penitence  
Offer religious vows, never to violate  
My Faith or Love to you again. One more Kiss.  
Before you hear it: for if then you stand not  
Firm to your Mercy, it must be my last.   La. 

What do you but violate your Love to me,  
Now in your most unjust suspicion?   Thr. 

I'll trespass so no more; yet many husbands  
(I wish they had my sorrow, and no less  
Purposer to reformation) wrong their wives.   La. 

Leave these perambulations; to the point:  
You have unlawfully lain with some woman!   Thr. 
'Tis said; and now your doom.  La. 

Ha, ha, ha. Here's a business!  
Would somebody heard you faith: nay of five hundred  
That now might overhear us (I mean not only  
Gallants, but grave substantial Gentlemen)  
Could be picked out a twelve good men and true,  
To find you guilty, I would then condemn you,  
But such a Jury must be paneled first.   Thr. 
And can you be so mild? then farewell thought.  La. 

Thought of your Mistress Sir, And then farewell  
My jealousy, for let me tell you Sir,  
That I have had an ache upon these brows  
Since your last being in Town. And since you have dealt  
So faithfully as to tell me it is one,  
(There's no more, is there?)   Thr. 
No upon my vow.  La. 

Name me the woman: if it be the same  
That I suspect, I'll never suspect more.   Thr. 

As faithfully as to my Confessor; Light weight.  
Saleware my silkman's wife.   La. 

The same I meant,  
You're a fair dealing husband. On what condition?  
Come this is merry talk. Prithee on what condition?  
Only to bring good custom to her shop,  
And send her husband Venison (flesh for flesh)  
I did observe you bought all there last term,  
And wished me to her Shop, and Mr. Saveall  
With divers others to bestow our moneys.  
Troth she's a handsome one; Prithee on what conditions?   Thr. 
Thou shalt know all to purge me of my folly.  La. 
Well said.  Thr. 

After a costly, and a tedious Suit  
With many an answer no, and no such Woman,  
At length she yields for a hundred pieces;  
Had 'em, and I enjoyed her once.   La. 

That was,  
When you last Term sat up all Night, and said you sat up with the three Lady Gamesters.   Thr. 
It is confessed.  La. 
Fair dealing still.  Thr. 

But here was the foul dealing, and for which  
I hate her now: I having paid so great a fine, and  
ta'e possession thought after to deal Rent-free.   La. 
A Peppercorn a quarter, if she be pepper-proof.  Thr. 
But she at my very next approach, which was but yesterday denies me Egress, except I make it a new purchase at the same former rate, and so for all times after.  La. 
Troth 'tis unreasonable, a hundred pound a time? How rich would Citizens be, if their wives were all so paid, and how poor the Court and Country! But hushed, here comes Mr. Saveall with your Nephew, I take it; A handsome Gentleman, could he be so debauched?  Enter Saveall, Careless. Sav. 
Sir, I have brought you home a Reformado; and do entreat (for what I have said unto him, and he hath fairly answered unto me) that words may not by you be multiplied.  Thr. 
Not a word of unkindness, Nephew, you are welcome, give me your hand. George, thou art welcome.  Car. 
I shall be George o' horseback once more I see. In all humility I thank you Sir.  Thr. 
Nay now thou speakest, and look'st too tamely George, I would have thee keep and use the lively spirit that thou hadst, but not to let it fly at random, as it has done George.  Car. 
Sir, I have learned now by the inconveniences I have met with, in those extravagant out flights, the better to contain it within the limits of your leave, and fair allowance hereafter.  Thr. 
Well said, and again welcome George. But (and this you shall give me leave to say Mr. Saveall) I remit your thanks for any inclination I had towards this reconcilement till I do you some further kindness; only you had good advocates, who pleaded friendly for you, Mr. Saveall, and your Aunt there before she ever saw you whom you may thank.  Car. 
A man must be so tied now.  Thr. 
Pray take notice of her.  Car. 
I cannot use respect enough Sir.  Thr. 
I like that modesty.  Sav. 
Doubt him in nothing, for he is come home.  Car. 
Madam as you are my gracious Patroness, and myself so all unworthy, my duty checks me in my approach to you.  La. 
You are the more entirely welcome x.  Kiss. Car. 
she Kisses like an old man's wife, That is, as a Child late starved at Nurse, sucks a fresh flowing Breast.  La. 
You must not Sir be bashful.  Car. 
'Twill less become me to presume good Madam.  Thr. 
George, here's a Lodging for you in this house, and my Table has a place for you, send for your man to wait upon you.  
Ha' you What still?  Car. 
Yes Sir, an honest true hearted civil fellow he is, as I have managed him, he can say grace now.  Thr. 
The world's well mended. Tomorrow you shall give me a note of your debts George, which I'll take order for, if I may presume you have any.  Car. 
Some driblets Sir, My credit has not lately wronged me much.  Sav. 
You speak sententiously, for credit sought With Tradesmen, than their wares are dearer bought; So Gentlemen are wronged.  Thr. 
Then not to wrong ourselves, let's in to Dance.  Exeunt omnes.   

ACT II.  

SCENE I.  Alicia, Lady, Servingman, Prentice. Al. 
ALL Cheapside, and Lombard street Madam, could not have furnished you with a more complete bargain, you will find it in the wearing, and thank me both for the goodness of the stuff, and of the Manufacture.  La. 
But now the price Mistress Saleware. I grant your Commodity is good, The Gold and Silver Laces, and the Fringes are rich, and I hope well wrought. Has your Man made a note of the particulars, and their prices, at the rate of ready-money (for I buy so) and not as you would book 'em to an under-aged heir, or a Court-Cavalier to expect payment two or three years hence; and find it perhaps never. I come with Here is one for tother.  Al. 
I know your ladyship's payment such; And they are prized so Madam to a farthing.  La. 
Let me see, broad plate Silver and Goldlace, 206 Ounces half, and a dram, at five and ten pence the Ounce. 60 l. 5 s. 3 d. ob. 4. five and ten pence an Ounce is dear.  Al. 
I protest unto you Madam that parcel of Lace for a Bed as you intend it, was bespoken, and agreed for at six shillings the Ounce by a very great person: but because ready money came not to fetch it off, Fortune reserved it here for you, you could not have been so fitted on the sudden else within London walls; and I am glad the same fortune was so favourable to me, as by my hands to design it for your ladyship's use and pleasure. I hope Madam we shall hear of a young heir a coming shortly, and that will make it a rich and fortunate Bed indeed; And then Sir Oliver would thank me too.  La. 
What a bold slut it is, well then the rest of the particulars here of Laces, and Fringes, Loops, and Buttons, makes the sum of all an hundred pound eight shillings four pence, halfpenny. I am no good Arithmetician, but if any be overcast, and overpaid, you must allow restitution.  Al. 
Yes, good Madam.  La. 
Is all put up into this Box?  Al. 
All Madam.  La. 
Give me my Purse. Take you home that while I make payment for it; your Goldweights Mistress Saleware.  Exit Servant. Al. 
Here Madam all in readiness.  La. 
You take no Gold but what is weight I presume.  Al. 
'Tis but light pains to weigh it Madam. But let me save your Ladyship that labour.  La. 
Nor shall it be your trouble, command your Servant I pray for a glass of your beer—  Al. 
Some beer for my Lady presently.  Exit. Prentice. La. 
That I may tell you in more privacy, what perhaps you would not have him hear: for Prentices though they are bound to keep their Masters secrets, are not all privy to their Mistresses; that's more a Journeyman's Office.  Al. 
Your Ladyship is pleased.  La. 
Not very well with myself, for I have gone beyond my Commission in this bargain, and exceeded my husband's allowance. Here's one hundred pounds eight shillings 4 d. ob. in the Bill, and he allows me but the bare hundred pound.  Al. 
The odd money is but a small matter Madam.  La. 
A great matter in an honest poor Country lady's purse, may serve her a whole Christmas at Post and Pare, or Farthing gleek, when the gay gamester's wives o'the City may command the hundreds, out of the purses of such poor Ladies Husbands. But here is the odd money, eight shillings four pence, half penny, and so all's paid.  Al. 
What means your Ladyship?  La. 
Do you not understand me then? I'll tell you that which I thought fit to conceal from your servant; And from your husband too had he been here, perhaps he knows not on't. My husband left with you, or lent you the last Term a hundred pound, which he assigned to me; and now I have it in Commodity. Had you forgot it, when it was to do you a good turn, when your absent husband failed you, and you wanted it.  Al. 
A good turn Madam?  La. 
Yes, was it not to have the free use of a hundred pound ready money, a whole quarter of a year, through a dead Vacation, and at last to take it out in wares? A good turn I think for a Trades-woman; take heed you do not by your sullenness make me suspect another kind of good turn, or that you did my husband any to my injury, nor deny the receipt of his money, lest I take up a violence that will not become me, nor you be able to bear. Be therefore well advised both in what you say, and who hears me. Somebody comes.  Enter Prentice with Beer. Al. 
Madam your Beer.  La. 
I'll pledge you Mistress Saleware.  Al. 
I shall presume then Madam— Drinks.  La 
This was right cast, was it not friend?  Pre. 
Your Ladyship will find it so— La. Drinks.  Al. 
And I hope you will find your money so well bestowed Madam, that you will vouchsafe always to know the Shop.  La. 
Ever upon the like occasion, Mistress Saleware, so most kindly farewell sweet Mistress Saleware.  Al. 
The humblest of your servant's Madam. Open the Boot for my Lady.  La. 
'Tis done my Coachman does it.  Exit. Al. 
I would the Devil were in your coachman's Coat to take his carriage for his pains.  Lady returns. La. 
One word more Mistress Saleware, can it be he?  Al. 
Lay your commands on me good Madam.  Curtsy. La 
Not to your trouble, I perceive a young Gentleman attends for conference with you. Is not his name Fitzgerrard?  Al. 
No Madam, his name is bellamy, much depending on the young Lord Lovely.  La. 
I thought I had known him, he is a handsome youth. I cannot blame you now with him: but beware of old Knights that have young Ladies of their own. Once more adieu sweet Mistress Saleware.  Exit. Al. 
Most courteous Madam— and once more to the Devil. But on my life her chaste Ladyship is taken with this beardless bellamy. How she shot eyes at him!  Bel. 
Now may your servant obtain a hearing Lady.  Al. 
My ears are open Sir.  Bel. 
But you are sad or angry, why seems that brow to threaten a subjection over him that is your vanquished captive; or has Cupid placed his Bow there bend at me, whose heart already lodges all his Arrows, never to be restored but by your pity?  Al. 
Fie, fie upon't! what talk is this? I am vexed, and you would mad me.  Bel. 
What has displeased you?  Al. 
A cross business that has happened in my Shop today, I being none of the wisest Chapwoman, have undersold a parcel of the best Commodities my husband had. And should he know't we should have such a squabble.  Bel. 
husband's should be so served that do impose Those mercenary Offices on their wives.  Al. 
Talk so, and I will hear you, your amorous notes sound like Play-speeches.  Bel. 
Servile, nay slavish Offices, ranking their wives with their prentices.  Al. 
They pretend only that we should overlook our servants, when they but set us there for show to draw in custom: but in making us such overseers they are overseen themselves; Shopkeepers-wives will be meddling and dealing in their kind, and as they are able, as well as their husbands (some much better, and more profitable) but I was overreached I confess.  Bel. 
For no great matter I hope.  Al. 
No, the matter was not much (that never fretted me) but the manner has e'en killed a She shopkeeper. I cannot be long-lived, here under a Penthouse, as my Lord (you know) told me when he said he would shut me out of this servitude, and that I should change my Coat, though my husband could not, before he were an Alderman, and be ranked with Ladies.  Bel. 
My Lord has still the same regard of you.  Al. 
So it appears by the Tailor and the Mercer, whom he sent four days since to measure me out, and suit me to his Honour, and no return of them found, yet his Land might ha' been measured all and sold, while a poor suit is dreamt on, had he borne the mind of some Lord?  Bel. 
I doubt not but this paper will clear that jealousy. And while you read I'll speak that which I dare not utter through, Sighs and Blushes to an entire attention.  

I am of Noble-blood myself, freeborn,  
And not without good education;  
But since I am engaged in this employment,  
And made an instrument of others lust,  
I find myself a scandal to my Name,  
To Honour, and to Virtue, the base blot  
Of Pandar sticking on me. But not this  
Alone is my affliction. Here's my torment,  
That while I do true service to my Lord  
(Whom I must ever honour) in my Agency  
Unto yourself (whom I cannot but love)  
I find myself a Traitor to his trust,  
In my negotiation for myself.  
Nor can I find it possible to desist,  
Mine own attempts, to you, or forbear to urge  
Your constancy to him.   Al. 

How easy a work  
'Twere for one woman to supply 'em both,  
And hold her husband play to level Acoile,  
A wooden two-leaved book, a pair of Tables  
Would do't.   Bel. 

How wretched is that suppliant, who must make  
Suit to obtain that, which he fears to take!   Al. 
At the bear at the Bridge-foot six o'clock, good.  
Sir, I find my Lords honourable appointments here, and have heard you all this while.  Bel. 
Now I could wish, and was in hope you had not.  Al. 

I will not blame you on your Lords behalf;  
Because you have enough rebuked yourself.  
But Sir, if you presume upon the favour  
I give your Lord, and therefore to obtain me,  
'cause I am his, you undervalue me  
To think that I can stoop unto his servant,  
Though almost his Companion, you may think  
After that degradation by degrees,  
I may, in time, descend unto his Footman, I'm no cast  
Garment of his Lordships yet.   Bel. 
You have schooled me fairly, I am humbled, Lady—  Going. Al. 

d'ee hear, d'ee hear sir, Mr. Bellamine,  
One word before you go.   Pren. 

What would he buy Mistress? can you take his money?  
Sir d'ee hear?   Al. 
Pray attend you the t'other end o' th' Shop, If I cannot handle a Customer, why does your Master trust me? Could a frown fright you? Let a smile then cheer you.  Bel. 

And that's a heavenly one,  
As that of Cynthia at Endymion.   Al. 
Pray leave your Player-like passionate expressions. And if you love me, like a Man speak to me.  
As I am a Woman; are you silent? if you doubt the length of my man's Ears at that distance, you may whisper what so? But that is a right shop-whisper indeed with tradeswomen that are handsome; Is that the most you will give sir? Could I afford it so, do you think I'd make two words w'ye? yet this before you go— Kiss. Now match it for the price I'll give it you for nothing.  Bel. 
I shall forget I have a Lord. I must forget him here.  Al. 
Do so, and if (I say) you love me, speak plainly what you would have me do, or what you would do with me (I love to daunt these young things that love before they can love to the purpose, or speak to't handsomely like a Boy that would fain be shooting at wildfowl, before he knows how to discharge a Birding-piece) I would hear you speak, you have often muttered and fribbled some intentions towards me, but I would hear you speak. Come, if you love me lay by the fear of the Lord that sent you, and tell me roundly now, what you would have me do?  Bel. 
I would entreat you—  Al. 
Well; what?  Bel. 
That you would be pleased—  Al. 
With what? or to do what?  Bel. 
To wear this pair of Silk stockings for me.  Al. 
Is that all your suit, 'tis granted, with my thanks to you; Have you no more to say?  Bel. 
Yes, I say you are the beautifullest of Women; and that my Lord in your enjoyment is the happiest—  Al. 
Nay think not of your Lord, but ask me, something.  Bel. 
I would but dare not hope for such a favour, you'll never grant it, my unworthiness.  Al. 
How can you tell?  Bel. 
You will not wrong my Lord, so as to do it.  Al. 
Not in his sight perhaps. What is it? come.  Bel. 
It is—  Al. 
It is then, let it be so. Go to School child.  Bel. 

It is— That you would, let me— give you this ring,  
And grace it with your Finger.   Al. 
Will that be a wrong to your Lord?  Bel. 
Yes, to wear any favours, but his own.  Al. 
does he know this?  Bel. 
No, nor I would not that he should (and given by me) for all the Rubies in Cheapside, where I bought this but now, over the way.  Al. 
Come sir, I'll dally w'ye no longer, I know what you would have with me.  Bel. 
And now you will betray me: I am shamed then and undone.  Al. 
No, but I have you o' the hip. 'Tis plain you would lie with me: deny it if you can.  Bel. 
O dear, did I say so now?  Al. 
What need you when I know it, you would lie with me, and you shall. Take courage man.  Bel. 
But, in good earnest, shall I? shall I?  Al. 
Yes, in good earnest, you'll find it no trifling business, when you come to't once. But sir, upon condition.  Bel. 
Any condition Lady.  Al. 
All purpose on't is lost, and all comes out else.  Bel. 
Name your condition, I'll perform it if it be in the power of my life.  Al. 
You saw here at your coming a fair Lady.  Bell. 
I took no notice of her.  Al. 
But she did of you, she is called the Lady Thrivewell.  Bel. 
Sir Oliver Thrivewell's Lady?  Al. 
The same, you have known her it seems.  Bel. 
Seen her before she was married.  Al. 
I will be brief with you, as you love me she loves you as eagerly, but with much more boldness, you saw her whisper me, and how loath she was to depart, when her eye was upon you.  Bel. 
I did observe it.  Al. 
she is my noble friend, and the sweetest Lady, I need not set her out. But though you think you suffer in your honour, in being an instrument twixt your Lord and me, with the base blot of Pander sticking on you, (these were your words) I have engaged myself for her to be your Pandaresse; be so, I shall be even with you in business if you account it so.  Bel. 
What d'ee mean Lady?  Al. 
To urge against myself, for that sweet Lady, which no Woman else I think would do, that loves you so unfeignedly as I. But 'tis my fate, and the injunction I must lay upon you, to make me yours. That first you give yourself to her Embraces; I'll give you means for your access to her, and your success with her, which done, and on your faith affirmed to me, 'tis so, I will perpetually be yours more freely than your Lords.  Bel. 
You urge this but to try my constancy.  Al. 
For that I'll satisfy you soon, my husband coming we must tonight at the Bear—  
My Lord writes so.  Enter Saleware. Sal. 
And there I will direct you in your progress.  
Ally how dost? Mr. Bellamy how is't? How does my noble Lord? You are sad methinks. Ha' you overbought any thing here, and so repent your bargain? Or cannot my wife, and you agree upon't? you must use Mr. Bellamy kindly my sweet Ally: he is our noblest Lords most special favourite, and must find all fair dealing here, as well when I am abroad as at home sweet heart.  Bel. 
You hear not me complain sir, fare you well.  Exit. Sal. 
What an asinego's this! He might ha' thanked me for my good words, though I meant him no good will, I hope thou hast overreached him indeed.  Al. 
Thomas your hopes are vain, Thomas in seating me here to overreach, or underreach anybody. I am weary of this Mechanic course Thomas; and of this courser habit, as I have told you divers and sundry times Thomas, and indeed of you Thomas that confine me to't, but the bound must obey.  Sal. 
Never the sooner for a hasty word, I hope sweet Ally; Not of me nor of my shop I prithee at seasonable times Love. But for thy habit (though this be decent on a citizen's wife) use thine own fancy, let it be as Courtly, or as Ladylike as thou pleasest, or my Lords desires.  Al. 
Then I am friends again.  Sal. 
Troth, and I'll call thee friend, and I prithee, let that be our familiar and common compellation: friend it will sound daintily, especially when thou shalt appear too gallant to be my Wife.  Sa. 
Then let it be so friend.  Al. 
Intruth it shall, and I am very much taken with it. Friend I have found a Customer today that will take off my rich parcel of broad Bed-lace, that my Lord Paylate bespoke, and left on my hands, for lack of money.  Al. 
I have sold it already friend, with other Laces at a good rate.  Sal. 
And all for ready money friend?  Al. 
Yes friend, a hundred pounds, and somewhat more.  Sal. 
Who would be, or who could live without such a friend, in such a shop? This money comes so pat for a present occasion, to stop a gap. It has stopped a gap already friend.  Al. 
I have disposed of the money, the odd hundred pound for apparel, friend, and other accommodations for myself.  Sal. 
Never the sooner for a hasty word I hope friend.  Al. 
I have done it friend, whereby to appear more Courtly, and ladylike as you say, to gain you more custom to your Shop.  Sal. 
Uuch friend— Is it so?  Al. 
And friend you must not be angry, or think much of it, if you respect your profit friend.  Sal. 
I were no friend but a wretch if I would. No let it go friend, and— Sapientia mea mihi is my word, I must not grudge at my friend in any thing.  Al. 
Then friend, let your shop be your own care for the rest of this day, I have some business abroad.  Sal. 
Whither sweet friend?  Al. 
Is that a friendly question?  Sal. 
I am corrected friend, but will you not take a Man to wait upon you?  Al. 
To watch me, shall I? and give you account of my actions? was that spoke like a friend?  Sal. 

I am again corrected friend,  
Do your own pleasure, you'll return to supper.   Al. 
Yet again?  Sal. 
And again, I am corrected friend?  Al. 
Neither to supper, nor to bed perhaps.  Sal. 
Never the sooner for a hasty word I hope.  Al. 
But if I chance to stay, you cannot be a faithful friend and ask me where, or in what company, friendship you know allows all liberty.  Exit. Sal. 

Sapientia mea mihi. A witty wife, with an imperious will,  
Being crossed, finds means to cross her Husband still;  
And Tradesmen that so match, must not with Gall  
Temper their Wives, but sweetly by witall.   Exit. Enter Careless, with two Letters in his hand, and What with a Candle, and Wax. Car. 

does not the World come finely on, Wat, ha?  
And have not we convenient comings in already, ha!   Show Gold. Wat. 
Better then we know how to have paid, for that's the glory on't.  Car. 
I need no more ensconcing now in Ram-alley, nor the Sanctuary of Whitefriars, the Forts of Fullersrents, and Milford-lane, whose walls are daily battered with the curses of bawling creditors. My debts are paid; and here's a stock remaining of Gold, pure Gold hark how sweetly it chinks.  Carless seals his Letters. Wat. 
Yes, and 'twill ring the changes shortly.  Car. 
For necessaries Wat, for necessaries it shall change, and Ring all out, and 'twill so long as I have an Uncle, and know to manage him, let money fly,  
I can no faster spend than he supply.  Wat. 
For necessaries sir, but you must not now count Sack and Tobacco, Whores and Fiddlers in abundance, necessaries.  Car. 
Why pray?  Wat. 
Because you'll have but little then for extraordinaries, That is to say in a Gentleman for charitable, and pious works and uses.  Car. 
The fellow's spoiled.  Wat. 
Not spoiled neither: For I would but wave your purpose of flying at all new Game, and neglect your poor whore, who now begins to be so violent for wrongs, she can no longer bear, that she intends to pursue you with her complaints hither to your Uncle's House.  Car. 
My Uncle's house? my house. Is not the first Morning's draught mine?  Wat. 
With great reason, for you are first dry in the morning.  Car. 
Is not the question first asked me, what will you have to breakfast? what will please you for Dinner, and what for Supper? Has not my Uncle let out moneys, and taken Bonds and Mortgages in my name? do not his Tenants crouch to me, and his servants all call me young Master? And does not my Uncle take care to marry me to ten thousand pound, and a thing like a wife?  Wat. 
You have got a brave possession here, I must needs say; and I applaud your fortune most in this, that your young Aunt the noble Lady here, who you see feared would prove a cruel Stepdame to you, appears to be more friend to you then your Uncle. 'Tis a most gracious Sunshine in her.  Car. 
She shall lose nothing by't. I have thought a way to requite her.  Wat. 
But sir, for Mistress Phebe, will you take no order for the poor soul?  Car. 
I do not like your zealous solicitation, but here's an order for her, in answer of her malapert Letter you brought me last night. Give it her, and these five pieces upon condition that she never come, write, or send to me again, till I send to her.  Wat. 
That's somewhat hard Sir.  Car. 
Nay look you What, you are a little mistaken in me. I must give over whoring, for special causes there unto me moving.  Wat. 
O now I find you. And 'twere richly worth your patience, if you could win the Widow by't, for whom you stood in fair election once, until your last debauchment.  Car. 
I shall stand fairer for her sir, when I leave working but a week or two, shall I not?  Wat. 
Yes, if you leave it quite, but to forsake her whom you have brought low, to fall to others, were such a thing—  Car. 
Well sir, it may be I will, it may be I won't, what's that to you? carry you the Letter, and the Money, and try how that will work with her.  Wat. 
I'll do my best, but if she should exclaim, and bring on her x Mr. Saleware to be clamorous—  Car. 
Her Cozen's a Cuckold, exclaim and clamorous! give me my money again.  Wat. 
Nay I am gone sir.  Exit. Enter Saveall. Car. 
The Rogue's in faction with 'em; O noble Mr. Saveall, you have most fairly kept your minute with me, I have written my Letter, sealed it and all, here to the Widow.  Sav. 
So early? that is well.  Car. 
I have written no less than six large Epistles this morning, and sent'em now by my Man to be conveyed into the Country to Lords and Knights, with all the news spiritual, and temporal, foreign and domestic that could possibly fall into a private Gentleman's Collection.  Sav. 
Is it possible?  Car. 
With such dexterity, that if I would make a Trade on't, I could undo all the News-mongers in Town that live by't.  Sav. 
It is a most commendable practice in a Gentleman, and it will mature your judgement in the both Commonwealth and State affairs, and in short time invite you unto the chair of Helm.  Car. 
When I am once married, and settled, you shall see what an ass 'tis, he believes me.  Sav. 
How am I comforted in my Meditation for you, and how overjoyed will your Uncle be at the use you make of your retirements!  Car. 
I confess it is (by reason of my unwontedness to it) some difficulty for me to write to women; wherefore since you have so nobly undertaken the conveyance of this, let me beseech you to apologise for the rudeness of my style.  Sav. 
To the fair hands of the most accomplished in virtue Mistress Anne Crostill, present, I pray with my service; The outside hath no rudeness on it, and (I doubt it not) she shall find within all sweetness and urbanity.  Car. 
As you may interpret it to her sir.  Sav. 
Sir, what I have already said, and do intend to say unto her from your Uncle, and myself on your behalf, together with what you have here written, shall (I doubt it not) prepare so fair a way of proceeding for you; That at your visit of her you may say, veni, vidi, vici, she is your own.  Car. 
And then— a ha, Mr. Saveall!  Sa. 
Expect your fortune modestly, and when it comes embrace it with discretion.  Car. 
Sir, I am edified.  Sa. 
It is well if you be so; I will put my undertaking in action presently, Pray for my good success.  Car. 
I dare not tell him now I cannot; but I wish well for the Moneys sake; and let the Vintners pray, and all the decayed Sparks about the Town, whom I will raise out of ashes into flame again. Let them pray for my good wokes. O my young Lady ants grave waiting Woman. If she were not hers, and out of this house I should take her for a Bawd now. But being hers, and here how much may I mistake? all flesh is frail.  Enter Nurse with Caudle cup. Nur. 
Not to disturb your morning Meditations, my Lady has sent you—  Car. 
And you have brought me, what sweet Mistress Closet?  Nur. 
A part of her Ladyships own breakfast, it is very cordial and comfortable to the spirits, I assure you, and delectable to the younger sort, and profitable to the old.  Car. 
One of Robert Greene's works, or the mad Doctor that preaches boiled in't I think.  Nur. 
'Tis a composition of mine own Sir, of many excellent decoctions, of most wholesome restorative, and costly ingredients.  Car. 
That it was sent by her makes it more excellent, whose bounteous care of me, I must acknowledge exceeds all cost in carving to me, and countenancing me at her Table, in gracing me in presence of the Ladies that come to visit her; in giving charge for decency in all things for my Chamber, my fires shining, my odours burning, my livery served in, my soft and costly bed prepared and spread with perfumed linen— here's Ambergris in this now—  Nur. 
O is it so, do you find that?  Car. 
But though she is my own Uncle's wife, I could e'en say 'tis pity a young man had her not.  Nur. 
What a wag's this?  Car. 
she is a most sweet Lady.  Nur. 
she is a sweet Lady indeed, I can best speak it that have known her from the womb hitherto: A sweet infant she was borne, and a sweet babe I swaddled it, and a sweet child I nursed it, I trained it up a sweet child. It was in manners a sweet child, at her Book and Sample a sweet child. I never whipped it but once, and then it was sweet too, and sprawled but a little, and whimpered but a little it was so sweet a child; And so she grew upwards, and upwards towards woman, and a sweet youngling she was, and so grew upwards and upwards towards man, and then a sweet Bride she was, and now a most sweet Lady she is, (as you say, and I commend you for it) And so she stands at a stay. For now she grows no more upwards then upon her Wedding day, not upwards as I would have her upwards, here I mean young Gentlemen, could I but see a sweet babe of hers once by my Master, I could be then content to sleep with my Ancestors.  Car. 
I had rather see your Gibship hanged up with Polecats in a Warren, and your sweet Lady with you, though I confess that were some pity. I hope her barrenness, or his will preserve her from my curse.  Nur. 
I hope still, and she hopes still; and I make him of this broth for every morning, and many other good strengthening things (I cannot say for the same purpose) for I shall never see him have an heir by her.  Car. 
Excellent! that's best of all.  Nur. 
Because you then are heir, say you so? Is that your love to your Aunt?  Car. 
No I protest Nurse, I meant by the broth, the bottom was the best of all.  Nur. 
Then I cry mercy.  Car. 
Cannot all thy art, and her cost find help for my Uncle, think'st thou, to get a child?  Nur. 
Help! what d'ee mean. He might have help and helps enough, were she not too virtuous.  Car. 
Still thou mistak'st me Nurse.  Nur. 
Away wag away, your Aunt loves you too well to think so of her.  Car. 
Nurse as I hope to inherit any thing hereafter—  Nur. 
I should but serve you well to tell her your good thought of her.  Car. 
Nurse, by this good— piece I think no harm.  Nur. 
Nay, nay.  Car. 
Take it I say. And tell her if thou wilt, that I love her so well, that were she not mine Uncle's wife, I would get her an heir myself rather then be his.  Nur. 
Kind young Master, now I am heartily sorry that I moved you.  Car. 
And for my Uncle were I his heir apparent, I rather wish he might live till all this World were weary of him, and the next afraid to take him.  
Then I survive him (Tongue, a pox punish you for lying)  
Now I live well, and merrily good Nurse,  
Wealth and Estates, bring cares and troubles with'em,  
Were all young heirs of my contented mind,  
Parents and Patrons would be better prayed for.  Nur. 
Good Gentleman.  
Nurse Closet.  Lady within— Closet— Nur. 
O my Lady calls.  Car. 
Present my thanks and best respects unto her.  Nur. 
I should ha' told you first— I ha' forgot. My head is nought,  Car. 
What member hast thou good then?  Nur. 
My Lady desires you— This talk has put me out— O this head! My Lady desires you—  Car. 
Desires she me Nurse?  Nur. 
Yes sir, she desires you.  Car. 
Refuse me if I desire not her as much, for all she is my Uncle's leavings.  Nur. 
My Lady desires you.  Car. 
And she shall have me Nurse— And she were ten Uncle's wives, and she ten of mine Ants.  Nur. 
O this head! nay now you will not hear me, she desires you to go abroad in the Coach with her.  Car. 
Any whither, to Islington, Newington, Paddington, Kensington, or any of the City outleaps (I know'em all) for a spurt and back again, tell her I am up and ready for her, and could ha' been without her stirrup porridge, though I thank her for her care. A man can not be too well prepared, or provided for so sweet a Lady, in so much distress. A very Andromeda, chained to a Rock.  Takes up his Cloak & Sword. Nur. 
What's this you say? I understand no word of it, I would take your answer right, though I faltered in my Lady's message.  Car. 
The Devils in this overrunning Tongue of mine, I could find in my heart to worm him out with my teeth.  Nur. 
What must I tell my Lady Sir?  Car. 
That I am more obliged to her Ladyship then I was to my Mother, she has brought me a new man into the World, and that my Being and my Life is hers.  Enter Lady. La. 
I hope he's a true convertite, did I send you to hold discourse here, Closet?  Nur. 
Nor did I Madam but I could hear this Gentleman a whole day methinks. He speaks so acknowledgingly of your ladyship's virtue, and goodness towards him.  La. 
I am beholding to him, will you go with me Nephew to the Exchange? I am to buy some toys there for the Country, you may get a fancy by't.  Car. 
Good, I must wear her favours.  La. 
Or cannot you forbear your study so long?  Car. 
To do you service Madam, under whose commands I build my happiness.  La. 
Be not at the distance of compliment with me good Nephew.  Car. 
I would not be thought insolent dear Madam.  La. 
Come the Coachman grumbles at my stay, and 'twill be dinnertime presently, so the Cook will be angry too.  Car. 
You are all tenderness to your servants Madam.  Exit. Nur. 
A sweet Gentleman, and bountiful, if my Lady had been blessed with such a Husband, what a place had I had!  Exeunt Omnes.   

ACT III.  

SCENE I.  Enter Crostill reading a Letter, Saveall. Cros. 
do you know the contents Mr. Saveall of the familiar Epistle you have brought me here?  Sav. 
No Lady, but I guess it a fair expression of the Writers affection to you, although he desired me to crave your pardon for the rudeness of his style, it being the first that he hath composed of that consequence.  Cros. 
Ha, ha, ha, I'll trust you sir, with the full knowledge of it, pray read it yourself.  Sav. 
I find she is pleased, and my endeavour prosperous, for the young Gentleman, I am sorry that I delayed a day in the delivering of it.  Cros. 
Pray read it out sir, for I find it so pleasant that I could hear it a whole day together.  Reads. Sav. 
In the first place you shall give me leave to wonder at your impudence (though it be but in your dreams) to have a thought that I ever intended, or can be drawn by persuasion, force, or the power of witchcraft to marry you—  
Bless me! sure if he writ this, the Devil dictated to him.  Cros. 
On sir, that's but his first charge.  Sav. 
Secondly, I am to tell you, that I am warm in mine Uncle's favour. And 'tis not a piece a time, or five pieces for a piece of pleasure can undo me; and so I can have change, and scape the captivity of Wedlock.  
This could no otherwise be done but by the Devil that ought him the shame.  Cros. 
What follows I pray, there's the first and second point past? mark his method.  Sav. 
Thirdly, and lastly, let me advise you, since you are so hot upon Marriage, though I assure myself you love none but me, (and I thank you for't) that you frame or dissemble an affection to some one of the City, who is but comparative to yourself in blood and fortune, and so you may make by-use of me as your friend, and have children like me,  
GEORGE CARELESS.  Cros. 
Have you ever heard so quaint a Love Letter?  Sav. 
Lady, the injury done in it, to yourself is unanswerable, but my wrong in being his Messenger, I will make him answer.  Cros. 
Excuse me Sir, he has done me a favour; I pray inform him so with my great thanks. But for what you conceive a wrong to yourself, use your discretion, you have no more to say to me for him at this present, have you sir?  Sav. 
Not for him but against him, I will un say all that I said before intended for his good.  Cros. 
But I'll not hear you wrong your former love, and judgement of him so, which made so deep impression here, that I had locked his love up as a Jewel in my Breast, and you in striving now to wrest it thence may break the Cabinet; I rather wish you'll be a friendly means to draw his presence hither, that I myself may mildly question him.  Sav. 
Are you serious Lady?  Cros. 
I fear I shall not rest before I see him, but do not tell him that, lest in this sullen humour, he force his absence to afflict me more; I'll hold you sir no longer, deal for me as you can, I know you have a guess at my desire.  Sav. 
I'll do you service in it.  Exit Crostill. 
I guess that her desire is to do some act of Revenge upon him. And (so it be not mortal) it were but Justice in her for so gross a scorn by him cast upon a well reputed Gentleman. Yet is it observed in her that she has a violent humour to do, and not to do things oftentimes wilfully against all good council or persuasion, she has the spirit of contradiction in her, and an unalterable resolution upon sudden intentions, a most incorrigible will she has that will not bow nor break. This cross abusive Letter therefore may do good upon her, however mischievous he might intend it. If she meant well to him before, it may the faster bring her on, but it amazes me that he should write so, bearing his Uncle, and myself in hand, that he so fairly loved her, and besought us to negotiate with her for him, should she forgive it, yet the wrong to us in his vile manners is unpardonable, and so sir, I come to you.  Enter Careless. Car. 
O Mr. Saveall—  Sav. 

What mischief or despite have I e'er done you,  
That could provoke your desperate spleen against me,  
To wound mine honour?   Car. 
What do you mean good sir?  Sav. 

You have employed me basely, made me your  
Carrier of scandal, and scurrility to the hands  
Of nobleness and virtue. Could the Fiend  
Lust that is in you suffer you to write  
No other Sense or Language to a person  
Of her fair Name, and Worth, than such as Ruffians  
Would send to strumpets? or it being such. Enter Wat.  
Could not a Porter, or your pander there  
Serve for the lewd conveyance?  
What a welcome's that!   Sav. 

You might safer  
Ha' sent it so, and your own right hand with it;  
Then to have drawn my just revenge upon you.   Draws. Car. 
Hold I beseech you, and sir, though I lose the Widow by my error (which was indeed but a mere accident) let me not be so miserable made as to lose you, before you hear a short Examination—  

Delivered you the Letter which I sent  
Yesterday to the Damsel that you wot of?   Wat. 

Yes sir, she read it, kissed it a hundred times,  
Then made a bosom Idol on't,  
And says you are the noblest Gentleman,  
Under a Saint that e'er took care for sinner.   Car. 

Hell take her for a mistaking whore,  
She has the widow's Letter, and the widow hers,  
I found it sir, when you judiciously  
Said it was Ruffianlike, and Strumpet language.   Wat. 
How could you err so strangely?  Car. 

O slightly, slightly, curse o' my heedless brain!  
And then too be trapped with carelessness.  
When I was so religiously resolved,  
T'incline to virtue, and a Marriage life,  
Thinking with one hand to cast off my follies,  
And to take hold of virtue with the other,  
For sir, (I will confess myself to you)  
The Letter you conveyed was in defiance,  
A loose lived wanton, intended to a whore,  
That impudently hopes an interest in me.   Sav. 
It was not so directed.  Car. 

I there was  
(The Hell confound it on't) my giddiness:  
I sealed both Letters ere I superscribed 'em,  
And so gave each the contrary direction.   Sav. 

'Twas a gross carelessness, and if you lose  
A fortune by't, do not blame your friends.   Car. 

That fortune should favour a whore before  
An honest woman. 'Twas the sweetest Letter,  
The daintiest winning things— (the Devils in't)  
She must not carry't from the widow so.  
Fetch me the Letter again.   Wat. 
Do you think she'll part with't sir?  Car. 
Cannot you beat it out of her sir?  Wat. 
I cannot tell how to do that.  Car. 
Thus sir— I'll give you demonstration, you malicious Rogue, you that conspire with her to betray me, so good a Master I have been to thee, and so good a friend to her, I'll recompense you both.  Wat. 
You have undone us both, and will discard us now you are warm in your Uncle's bosom again— but—  Car. 
But what you Traitor you?  Wat. 
You put me in good mind, and if I do not somewhat.  Car. 
I owe you somewhat for your last-nights absence, too pernicious Villain that kepst thyself out o' the way o' purpose that I should be drunk, and abuse myself, and the house here all lay o' your absence, There's somewhat more for that.  Beats him. Wat. 
'Tis all upon account sit.  Car. 
Who knows an honest Servingman that wants a good Master.  Exit. Sa. 
Was it your man's fault Mr. Careless? if I be not revenged etc.  Car. 
No faith, To speak truth he was as much abused in it, as you in doing a thing as contrary to his vile conditions, as you did to your noble Name. But I crave only your pardon, I know not what I do besides. This cross blow of chance staggers my reason so—  Sa. 
Well sir, since I have found the error, my reason reconciles me to you, and since it grew out of your equal intent to cast off the evil, as to embrace the good, I will re-mediate for you to the widow.  Car. 
But yet she'll know I have had a whore. Yet then you may say, 'tis such a running Disease among young Gentlemen, that not one of a hundred has scaped it, that have proved stayed men afterwards, and very sober husbands; As look you yonder's one may prove, whom now I have in good sooth a great desire to beat.  Enter Lady, and Bellamy talking. Sa. 
In your aunt's presence, and your Uncle's house; Though I were not his friend; could you be so outrageous? I muse I see him here though.  Car. 
Cry you mercy sir, are you his friend?  Sa. 
I make myself so, he being dependent to my noblest Lord, whom I am bound to honour.  Car. 
What Lord I pray, that I may honour him too.  Sa. 
The Lord Lovely.  Car. 
That loves women above wine, wine above wealth, wealth above friend, and friends above himself. There's no scandal in all that sir.  Sa. 
It goes so of him indeed, but he loves honour above all those.  La. 
Mr. Saveall a word.  Sa. 
Your servant Madam.  Car. 
In the name of flesh, for what does his Lordship employ that Angle-worm to my Aunt? He has had her this hour in private conference, close chambered up together, not so much as Matron Nurse in the room with 'em, 'Tis a fine sleek thing, and almost pity to hunt it, but sure I must beat it, as place and time convenient may serve.  La. 
Pray Mr. Saveall move you my Husband for it, I would not meddle in his money matters willingly.  Sa. 
Five hundred pound for my Lord upon the mentioned security, I will break it to sir Oliver.  Car. 
Is that the business after so much privacy? very pretty, my Ants a woman too, and me Uncle may have as forked a fortune, as any of the City, that lend out money to hedge in Lordships.  La. 
I am his Lordship's servant.  Bel. 
And I your Lordship's good Madam. And yours Mr. Saveall.  Sa. 
I am for your way Mr. Bellamy.  Car. 
And I sir, an't please you.  Exit. Sav. Bel. La. 
George Careless, I would speak with you.  Car. 
May I not wait upon your Gentleman to the Gate Madam?  La. 
No good George, though I commend your courtesy, yet would I not you should neglect your own dignity.  Car. 
Umh— I am under Government.  La. 
The young man, if you have modesty will think you mock him, if not you'll make him become arrogant, know you not whose man he is?  Car. 
No 'tis apparent, this over-slighting of him proclaims she loves him, whose follower Madam, and I know Lords followers, Knights fellows.  La. 
Not all Lords followers to all Knights George.  Car. 
To as many as their fair Ladies will give way to, that are not faint-hearted.  La. 
I understand you not George; something troubles you, you are not right today.  Car. 
I am only as I am in your favour Madam.  La. 
Come I know what perplexes you, and 'tis therefore that I desire to talk with you; I am not angry with you, but let me tell you George, although not openly I took notice of the pickle you came home in last night, after your Uncle was in Bed; to whom, marvelling at your absence I excused you, as gone at my request to visit some Ladies with whom you stayed Supper, I told him, when you were with your Roucers.  Car. 
But did you never go?  La. 
Indeed I did, and he was satisfied.  Car. 
O my sweet Lady Aunt! I was indeed amongst'em, and deeply merry.  La. 
And drunk as deeply!  Car. 
I will abuse your goodness so no more.  La. 
Say and hold George, for your own good.  Car. 
What's now become of me, I am under correction.  La. 
I would you could have seen yourself, and how your disguise became you, as I was told, I do but friendly tell you of some passages, as they were to me related, by those whom I have charmed to speak no more on't. Be secure therefore in your Uncle.  Car. 
O my dear heavenly Aunt!  La. 
First, at the door you bounced like a Giant at the Gate of an enchanted Castle, before which could be opened offence was taken by you at your Sedan-men; for asking money (as appeared afterwards) more than you brought from the Tavern, and leaving their office fouler by a distempered stomach-full, than you found it. In the strife for these sad causes your Sword being seized on, you being unable to use it, were found by my servants at lugs with your brace of Corpse bearers, in the dirt, and their poor hovel Chair turned on his ridge in the Kennel.  Car. 
I'll never be drunk again.  La. 
I hope you will say so, when you have heard all George; but by the way your late stock being spent, here are ten pieces towards a supply.  Car. 
O sweet golden Aunt!  
Well sir, the strife appeased, you were ta'en in. Then hay is there no Sack i'the house? 'tis for you in you Chamber is replied, up you are had, where is the Rogue my man? not seen since Yesterday; Fetch me a wench. Bless us cries old Sim the Butler, we have none i'th' house, nor cannot send for any out o' doors. Dost— tell me that? is not my Lady's Woman, my Lady's Chambermaid, the Laundry-maid, the wench under the Cook, my lady's Nurse old Winter plum, nor my Lady herself within? I know, or will know all the she things in the house.  La. 
But why me up in your bedroll George?  Car. 
Pshaw.  Beats his head La. 
You remember none o' this!  Car. 
It is not worth it Madam.  La. 
Nor how you scared Chambermaid, whom I sent in love to see care taken for you, not dreaming of any ill thought in you, do you remember how you told her, and what you would give her, when your Uncle died for a small present courtesy? she was fain to satisfy you with a false promise to steal to bed to you before four men could force, or humour you into it.  Car. 
What an unhallowed Rascal was I!  La. 
'Tis well you consider it now. And still consider George.  
How ill excess of Wine, Roaring and Whoring becomes a Gentleman, and how well sobriety, courtesy, and noble action, and dangers wait upon the one sort, and what safety accompanies the other!  Car. 
Wine, Roaring and Whoring, I will lay that saying of yours Madam to my heart; but Wine is the great wheel that sets the rest a whirling.  La. 
True George, for had you not first been sullied with Wine, you would not have abused yourself to ha' tumbled in the dirt with your Litter-mules, nor offered to seduce my Chambermaid. Suppose you had overcome her, how could you have come off but with shame to yourself, and the utter ruin of the poor Wench?  Car. 
Still she corrects me for my meddling with base matters and people, she is not angry she says, though I called for her last night i'my drink, she gives me money, I will now understand her, and whereunto all her former favours and her later admonitions are directed, and presently appear a grateful Nephew.  La. 
Nay, be not sad upon it George, as I would win you from your faults, I would have you still be cheerful. If any thought troubles you, you may be free with me George.  Car. 
O Madam you have made me, and now take me to you.  La. 
How mean you?  Car. 
Freely and wholly, the truest, faithfulst servant, and I think the ablest that any Lady of your lacks and longings ever bestowed a favour on, though I say't myself. You'll swear't when you have tried me, an't be but hourly for a month together.  La. 
Is the man sound trow?  Car. 
I defy Surgeon, or the Pothecary can come against me.  La. 
Sound i' your senses sir, I mean.  Car. 
O for blabbing Madam never fear me, now I am resolved to live soberly, and be only yours. And with such pleasure, with such safety, secrecy, and fullness, I will so constantly supply you, that you shall not have time to dream of the defects of your old man.  La. 
Do you mean your Uncle, and not know whose wrong you unnaturally and sinfully pursue?  Car. 
No man living Madam can do it for him, more naturally and less sinfully; I am of the same flesh and blood, and bring his youth to your pleasure, how can you think old Uncle's children are got? or how came up the proverb, She is one of mine Ants, do you think? You would have a child by him. All your Cawdles and Cock-broths will never do it, An old man's generative spirit runs all into brain, and that runs after covetousness too, get wealth, not children. Believe it, much nephew's help belongs to it, and then the children are not degenerate, I cannot think but many uncles know it, and give way to it, because stranger bloods shall not inherit their Lands, and so sweet Aunt if I live not to inherit his, my son may, in your first born. There will be a sweet comfort to you.  La. 
But is all this in earnest?  Car. 
In earnest? yes, And I pray so take it, and let it be a bargain, and now presently in the Chamber, I will make you my first payment for the purchase.  La. 
Fie, fie, you do but say so?  Car. 
That shall be tried presently. Come sweet Madam, I find you are willing, and I swear I am resolute, and will be as secret as your own woman, if you will not go I protest I'll carry you.  La. 
Nay preythee George set me down a little.  Car. 
Pshaw— I need none o' these whesings I.  La. 
But prithee tell me, dost thou not all this only to try me, or am I a Rogue think you, or wouldst thou seriously that thine own natural Uncle, thy bountiful Patron, nay thy father on the matter, should suffer such a wrong, and done by us?  Car. 
Hark there again, Madam have I not proved sufficiently and plainly, that I shall in doing the feat for him do him the greatest right in the world, in getting him, and you an indubitable heir, and to give him both the comfort, and the glory of it?  La. 
Was ever such a Reprobate?  Car. 
And you can do him no wrong (though you had not a Lady's privilege) to Cuckold him, for assure yourself he cuckqueans you, now come Madam.  La. 
You speak not on your knowledge.  Car. 
I never was his Pimp, but what I have heard, I have heard. Now come Madam.  La. 
I heard Mr. Saveall protest within these three days that he thought my Husband the chastest man (of a Gentleman) that he knows.  Car. 
O did he so, Madam, believe it they two have whored together, and that Saveall has pimped for him oftener than you ever lay with my Uncle.  La. 
What! since he married me?  Car. 
What else? Saveall is not only his grave Parasite, but his Pimp, and has spent my Uncle more in these civil punctual ways, than I in all my whole debauches, what did you think he kept him for? O they are a brace of subtle dry Tweaks, come now Madam.  La. 
What an inhuman Villain's this!  Car. 
I'll tell you all now upon our inward acquaintance.  La. 
You have told too much already to have any acquaintance with me at all, nor shall you, unless you presently recant all that you have, or would have said upon this subject.  Car. 
Madam—  La. 
Stand further and reply not, less I call in those that shall sadly silence you. Have you abused your Uncle, and the next best friend you have i' the World, in hope thereby to abuse me most, that was no enemy of yours till now you justly have provoked me?  Car. 
I took not a right course.  La. 
Was this the best construction you could make of my love to you, or a fit requital, to make me an incestuous Whore?  Car. 
Yes, yes, a pox my course was right enough, but I undertook her at an ill season. Her spruce springal left her but now, I'll tell her so Madam.  La. 
Come I perceive you are sorry; and that's a part of satisfaction. Therefore for once I'll wink at your transgression, especially before others. Here's one you see.  Enter Closet. Car. 
I do, the Devil blind her.  Nur. 
Madam—  La. 
But tempt me so again, and I'll undo you.  Car. 
I know how you'll undo me witty Madam, Ah—  Aside. La. 
Nay be not sad George, discover not yourself, and you are safe, for once I tell you.  Car. 
she'll come about I see.  La. 
But will you Cousin go, and do that for me?  Car. 
Most readily good Madam, I have your full directions.  La. 
All x, if you forget not.  Car. 
I cannot be so negligent in your service Madam, I find by this feigned errand she dares not trust her trollop there, I love her wit now too.  Exit. La. 
He is both schooled, and cooled I hope. Now Closet what's your News?  Clo. 
Of a Citizen Madam that entreats to speak with your Ladyship.  La. 
Do you not know his Name, or Trade?  Clo. 
Yes, I had both e'en now, but I have such a Head.  La. 
If you have lost 'em by the way pray go back and seek 'em, or bring you his business.  Clo. 
I asked his business Madam, and told him he might trust me with it without a hand to his book, but he said it could not be delivered, but by his own word o' mouth to your Ladyship.  La. 
What strange matter is it trow? or what Citizen, is not his Name Saleware?  Clo. 
Yes Madam, and he is a (O this head) a—  La. 
A silkman is he not?  Clo. 
Yes Madam the same.  La. 
I hope his impudent Wife has not told him all; if she has, where's his remedy in this Woman's Law-case?  Clo. 
There's a Gentleman with him too Madam.  La. 
Then we shall have it, 'Tis his Wife sure, well I am prepared for the encounter. Bid 'em come up, if they grow violent or too bold with me, I'll set my Nephew George upon 'em. 'Tis not his Wife, what Creature is it trow with me, Mr. Saleware?  Enter Saleware, Phebe. Sal. 
Craving your pardon Madam, a few words in the behalf of this poor Kinswoman of mine, touching a Gentleman, who I hear lives in your House, Mr. George Careless, Madam, by whom she has received much injury.  La. 
How sir I pray?  Sal. 
Pray Madam read this Letter, weep not, but hold up thy head coz, we will not be dashed, nor bashed in a good cause; pray read you Madam.  La. 
I am now (Lady) in favour with my Uncle, and in fair possibility of a good Estate, deporting myself (I intend to do) a civil Gentleman. To which end (induced as well by reason, as by long continued affections) I tender myself to you in the holy condition of Marriage. If you vouchsafe your consent, (which is my most earnest request) I shall not only declare myself a good Husband, but the most happy,  
GEO. CARELESS.  Sal. 
Wherein appears the injury to your Kinswoman?  Sal. 
In flying from his Word, and Deed Madam. He has borne her in hand these two years, and use her at his pleasure, detaining her from her choice of many good fortunes, and at last sends her this to make amends for all, and denies his act the next day, sending his man to take the Letter from her, pretending 'twas directed to another. But never the sooner for a hasty word x, we will not be dashed nor bashed, I warrant thee.  La. 
Here's the direction. To the Lily white Hands of Mistress Mariana Gymcrack, is that your Name Lady?  Phe. 
I am the sorrowful one that is known by it Madam.  Sal. 
Never the sooner for a hasty word x.  La. 
I conceive the business, and find the error, and my great doubt is over.  Sal. 
Weep not I say.  La. 
What would you have me do Mr. Saleware?  Sal. 
You have discretion Madam, and I made choice of your Ladyship to open this matter unto you, rather than to Sir Oliver himself, whom I would not willingly exasperate against his Nephew, you may be pleased in a milder way to temper him, and work a satisfaction for my Kinswoman; Sir Oliver and yourself Madam, are noble Customers to my Shop, and for your sakes I would not deal rigorously with your Kinsman, if a gentle end may be made. But, if you cannot so compound it, the Law lies open, money and friends are to be found, a good cause shall not be starved, I will not be dashed not bashed, Sapientia mea mihi is my word, and so good Madam you know my mind.  La. 
'Tis pity a Gentlewoman should suffer too much, and I like her so well at first sight, that I am easily moved to do good for her, is she your Kinswoman in blood Mr. Saleware, or your wife's?  Sal. 
Mine I assure your Ladyship, though my wife can boast as great and noble friends I thank fortune, as the wife of any Tradesman that carries a head in the City, (but that's by the by) yet I came of a better house, and am a Gentleman borne, none dispraised.  La. 
Well Mr. Saleware, leave your Kinswoman with me a little while, you shall not be scene in my act, I'll try what I can do for her.  Sal. 
With all my heart good Madam, and d'ee hear Marina, This is a noble Lady, bear yourself discreetly in the business, and towards her: you may get a Husband by't, or at least a composition that may purchase one to shoulder you up. But carry it high and worthy of the house I brag of, or— Sapientia mea mihi, stultitia tua tibi, That's my sentence.  Phe. 
Well sir, you need not doubt my high Carriage.  La. 
Closet.  Enter Closet. 
Madam.  La. 
Take this Gentlewoman to your Chamber, and I charge you let none see her, or take notice of her, but yourself and me, till I give order.  Exit Closet. 
I shall do something for her doubt not Master Saleware.  Exit. Lady. Sal. 
I shall be bound to your Ladyship, now to my Shop, to which I thank my Wife she has been a Wild-cat these two days, which must be borne with as we are friends. And from my House all Night, and yet no Green-goose-fair-time; Nor though she were so absent must I be so unfriendly as to question her, where, or with whom she was; a new Article this twixt Man and Wife! But Sapientia mea mihi, stultitia sua sibi. Thus it must be where Man and Wife are friends, and will continue so in spite of chance, or high heeled shoes, that will awry sometimes with any Women. she is not yet come home here. What Ladies that, and not my Wife there to handle her handsomely for her Money? My servants are such Assinegoes! stay, are mine eyes perfect? 'Tis she, 'tis my Friend-wife, and in the Courtly habit, which so long she has longed for. And my Lord Lovelies Gammed with her. His Lordship lay not at home tonight, neither at his Lodging, I heard that by the way. I cannot think my Lord and she both sat up all Night to see the Tailors at work, and to hasten the finishing of those Clothes, if she were with him which I would not be so unfriendly to inquire for the worth of a Wife. 'Twas right honourably done of him to send her home as gallantly attended as attired, if she die— a— a— lie with him all Night, which I will not be such a beast to believe although I knew it. I must come on her with a little wit though, for which I will precogitate.  A. 
Once more your story, for I am not satisfied with thrice being told it.  Bel. 
Can a Woman take so much delight in hearing of another Woman's pleasure taken?  Al. 
As it was given by you I can, for I am prepared by it to take pleasure from you, and shall with greediness expect it till I have it.  Bel. 
Then know I pleased her so, that she protested, (and I believe her) her Husband never pleased her so.  Al. 
Or any other man you should ha' put her to that, her Husband's but a Bungler.  Bel. 
How know you that?  Al. 
I do but guess.  Bel. 
Nay she swore deeply, and I believed her there too, no man besides her husband but myself had e'er enjoyed her, but let me tell you Lady, as she was amply pleased she may thank you.  Al. 
For sending you, I know she did and will.  Bel. 

That was the first respect, but not the greatest:  
For in our Act of love, our first and second Act—   Al. 
Indeed!  Bel. 
In real deed, I can speak now like an emboldened Lover.  Al. 
Well, but what in your Acts of Love?  Bel. 
I had you still in my imagination, and that enabled me to be more grateful to her Ladyship, which wrought her thankfulness to you, expressed in a hundred pieces, sent by me, more than I told before, which are your own she says, since t'other morning she was here with you.  Al. 
That token confirms all. Had I the spirit of Witchcraft, when putting upon chance for my Revenge, to find Reward! Have you the money?  Bel. 
Safe at my Chamber for you.  Al. 
O you are cunning, less I should break with you you thought to oblige me by't.  Bel. 
I'll rather run and fetch you twice the sum, I concealed it only to give it you unexpectedly.  Al. 
Sweet Bellamy I am yours, I could be sorry now I have lost so much of thee. This Kiss, and Name your time—  Sal. 
Would they had done whispering once, that I might enter safe in my manners.  Bel. 
Tomorrow night.  Al. 
Shall you be ready so soon think you after your plentiful Lady-feast.  Bel. 
O with all fullness both of Delight and Appetite.  Al. 
And with all faith and secrecy I am undone else, you know my vows unto my Lord.  Bel. 
And can you think I dare be found your mean, to break'em.  Al. 
No more my husband comes. Pray Sir return my thanks unto my Lord for his right noble bounty, and not mine alone, for so my husband in much duty bound also presents his thanks unto his Lordship.  Sal. 
Yes, I beseech you sir.  Bel. 
I am your willing Messenger.  Sal. 
He is my most honoured Lord, and has so many ways obliged me both by my wife, and in mine own particular that—  Bel. 
I take my leave.  Exit. Sal. 
Still this is an Assinego. I can never get him to stand a Conference, or a Compliment with me. But Sapientia mea mihi, what was that friend you made me send thanks for to his Lordship, what new favour has he done us, besides his council— These Clothes, the cost was mine you told me, out of the odd hundred pound you took, what late Honour has he done us?  Al. 
is't not enough I know Friend? will you ever transgress in your impertinent inquisitions?  Sal. 
I cry you mercy friend, I am corrected justly.  Al. 
Will you never be governed by my judgement, and receive that only fit for you to understand, which I deliver to you undemanded? Do not I know the weight of your floor think you? Or do it you on purpose to infringe friendship, or break the peace you live in?  Sal. 
Never the sooner for a hasty word, I hope Friend.  Al. 
Did you not Covenant with me that I should wear what I pleased, and what my Lord liked, that I should be as Ladylike as I would, or as my Lord desired; that I should come, and go at mine own pleasure, or as my Lord required; and that we should be always friends and call so, not after the silly manner of Citizen and Wife, but in the high courtly way?  Sal. 
All this, and what you please sweet Courtly friend I grant as I love Courtship, it becomes thee bravely.  Al. 
O does it so?  Sal. 
And I am highly honoured; And shall grow fat by the envy of my repining Neighbours, that cannot maintain their Wives so like Court-Ladies, some perhaps (not knowing we are friends) will say she's but Tom Saleware's Wife, and she comes by this Gallantry the Lord knows how, or so. But Sapientia mea mihi, let the Assinegos prate while others shall admire thee, sitting in thy Shop more glorious, than the Maidenhead in the mercer's arms, and say there is the Nonpareil, the Paragon of the City, the Flower-de-luce of Cheapside, the Shop Court-lady, or the Courtshop Mistress, ha' my sweet Courtly friend?  Al. 
How do you talk? As if you meant to instruct'em to abuse me.  Sal. 
Sapientia mea mihi.  Al. 
To prevent that I will remove out of their walk, and keep shop no more.  Sal. 
Never the less for a hasty word I hope Friend.  Al. 
Fie, 'tis uncourtly, and now I'll tell you Friend, unasked, what I have done for you besides in my late absence, and all under one.  Sal. 
Under one! yes, I could tell her under whom if I durst.  Al. 
What's that you say Friend? methinks you mutter.  Sal. 
No Friend, I was guessing what that other thing might be that you have done for me, all under one. You have taken the House I'll warrant, that my Lord liked so.  Al. 
By my Lord's favour and direction I have taken it, And I will furnish it so Courtly you'll admire.  Sal. 
Must I then give up Shop, or lie so far remote?  Al. 
No you must keep your Shop Friend, and lie here if you please.  Sal. 
And not with you but there?  Al. 
No not with me at all Friend, that were most uncourtly.  Sal. 
But I shall have a Chamber in your house, and next to yours. Then in my Gown and Slippers Friend at Midnight— or the first Cock.—  Al. 
Softly for stumbling Friend, I'll do you any honourable offices with my Lord, as by obtaining suits for you, for which you must look out, and find what you may fitly beg out of his power, and by courtly favour. But keep your Shop still Friend, and my Lord will bring and send you such custom, that your Neighbours shall envy your wealth, and not your Wife; you shall have such comings in abroad and at home, that you shall be the first head nominated i' the next Sheriff season, but I with my Lord will keep you from pricking. Be you a Citizen still Friend, 'tis enough I am Courtly.  Sal. 
Here's a new Courtly humour, I see no remedy, unless I run myself out of credit, defy the life of a Citizen, and turn Courtly too.  Al. 
What's that you say? do you not mutter now Friend?  Sal. 
No, not a syllable Friend, but may not I give up Shop and turn Courtly too Friend?  Al. 
As you respect my Lord, and your own profit, you must be a Citizen still, and I am no more a citizen's Wife else, and she must be a citizen's Wife, that wust do all in all with my Lord Friends. Though my Lord loves the Clothes of the Court, he loves the diet of the City best Friend, whatever I wear outwardly he must find me citizen's Wife, which Friend, O he's a sweet Lord.  Sal. 
Well it shall be then as the sweet Lord will have it, Sapientia mea mihi.  Exeunt omnes.   

ACT IV.  

SCENE I.  Enter Lord Lovely, Crostill, Bellamy. Lo. 

LAdy, 'tis true he is a bashful Lover,  
Unskilled to court a Widow, has not yet,  
The Act methodical to swear he loves you,  
Must and will have you, nor the moving boldness  
To stir your blood by putting of you to't,  
Or showing you how 'tis, before the Priest  
Declares it lawful. But he has love and sweetness,  
Which you will find with full and rich content;  
And look (look here) what a long, middle finger he has,  
Which with thin Jaws, and Roman Nose,  
Are never failing signs of widow's joys.   Cros. 
Your Lordship is disposed to mirth;  Lo. 

It is  
My care to put you in a course of mirth,  
Nay of felicity.   Cros. 
In marrying of that stripling!  Lo. 

Do not think slightly of him, tho' he appears  
Modest and bashfully, if I have any judgement,  
he's a fit match for you. His outward fortune  
For his estate, I will make good to him,  
And for his inward virtue never doubt  
he'll make that good to you; However still  
He holds his much commended Modesty.   Cros. 

My Lord you much commend his modesty,  
And bashfulness, urging your confidence  
Of his strange inward hid abilities  
(I hope your Lordship's pardon) can you tell,  
If he has with that bashful modesty  
Got any of his Mother's Maids with child?  
Or of his Father's Tenants Wives, or Daughters?  
I would have some assurance.   Lo. 

Then I'll tell you.  
These Widows love to hear of manly acts,  
And choose their husbands by their backs, and faces.   Cros. 
My Lord you said you'd tell me.  Lo. 

Yes, but I would not have you cunningly  
To sift discoveries from me to his wrong.   Cros. 

I am loath to speak so plainly to you my Lord,  
But by the worst that you can speak of him  
I may the better like him.   Lo. 

That's her humour;  
Then hark you Widow, to avoid his blushes,  
Suppose I tell he has got a bastard.   Cros. 
You may as well suppose I'll say 'twas well.  Lo. 
What say you to two or three!  Cros. 
The more the merrier.  Lo. 
He has no less than five old gentlemen's Young Wives with child this Moon, but got all in One week.  Cros. 
Indeed!  Lo. 
Yes, in good deed, and lusty.  Cros. 
Good deed call you it, to get other Men's Children?  Lo. 
Suppose they have the husband's consents.  Cros. 
I suppose they are wittols then.  Lo. 
No they are wisealls, and 'tis a thing in much request among landed men, when old and wanting issue of their own, to keep out riotous Kindred from inheritance, who else would turn the Land out of the Name.  Cros. 
An excellent policy!  Lo. 
You know the Lady Thrivewell.  Cros. 
And her old husband, and his riotous Kinsman too.  Lo. 
You will hear more hereafter, but now to him again, for whom I am spokesman.  Cros. 
In a strange way methinks.  Lo. 
He is sent for far and near on those occasions, he is of so sweet a Composure, and such sure taking mettle, that he employs my care to have him well bestowed before he begins to waste.  Cros. 
Is't possible he has done so much, and says so little?  Lo. 
The deepest waters are most silent,  
But he can speak, and well to Bellamy.  Bel. 
My Lord.  Lo. 
I have made your love known to this Lady.  Bel. 
My love my Lord?  Lo. 
And have begun your suit; follow't yourself.  Bel. 
My suit my Lord to her? I never moved your Lordship to't, Tho' I presume she may be a happy fortune to one of my condition; a poor and younger brother; only made rich and happy in your Lordship's service, and overflowing favours.  Lo. 
Which I'll take off o' you if you slight my care in seeking your preferment to this Lady, of beauty equal with her fair estate, in both which she is great, and her achievement will be the Crown, and the continuance of all my favours to you, you are lost if you pursue it not, I would thy old Uncle Bellamy saw thy Bashfulness.  Cros. 
Your Lordship seems now to woo for me, not him, however I am bound in thanks to your nobleness, in your fair proportion, I hope, I shall not be so poor to require an advocate, when I shall yield to have a husband. But your mirth becomes your honour, and the young gentleman's reservedness him, Ha, ha, ha.  Lo. 
How mean you Mistress Crostill?  Cros. 
I do commend your mirth my Lord, for the lusty strain you spoke him in, that he had yet five children in one week, wherein I may presume you thought you had moved to my liking, ha, ha, ha—  Lo. 
I am glad I have made you merry, But you will wish if you reject him—  Cros. 
If I reject one that tenders not himself! yet I commend his caution.  Lo. 
As how I pray?  Cros. 

As thinking I am one of your cast pieces  
(Knowing how well your Lordship loves the game)  
And now would put me on him,  
But you misprise me sinfully sweet Youth  
In such a thought, howe'er you should not scorn  
To ride in your Lords cast boots, though you be Gentleman of's house.   Lo. 
Come now he shall have none of you.  Cros. 
I'll hear him say he will not first, by your Lordship's leave.  Lo. 
Spirit of contradiction!  Cros. 
Stay sir, would you be content to have me?  Bel. 
You heard my Lord say I should not.  Cros. 
But say he say again you shall, speak, will you have me?  Lo. 
Say no (I find her now) that is the way to win her.  Cros. 
Without instructions good my Lord.  Bel. 

Lady I find so much your scorn already,  
That to be wedded to't, I should despair  
(My much unworthiness considered) to convert it  
Ever to love, and 'tis your love, before  
Your Person or Estate, that my affection  
Ought to direct me to.  
In answer therefore, to your will, you have me,  
I must say no, till I perceive some sign  
Of love in you towards me.   Cros. 

I now he speaks!  
Some signs of love in me? How would you have it?  
Must I declare it to you, before you seek it?   Bel. 

No; I would seek it zealously, but my Lord  
Is off on't now, and I may lose his favour.   Cros. 
Is your love limited by his favour then?  Bel. 

Not limited: but (as it is as yet,  
But in its infancy) a little checked,  
Though it still grows, and may extend beyond  
All limitation to so fair an object  
As is yourself: But still my own demerit  
Curbs my ambition more than love emboldens.   Cros. 
He speaks within me now.  Enter Saveall, Careless. Sa. 
Stay, let us retire. Here is the Lord Lovely.  Car. 
Be he a Lord of Lords I'll not retire a foot.  Lo. 

What servants Mistress Crostill do you keep.  
To let intruders in?  
O Mr. Saveall!   Carless salutes Crostill, & puts by Bellamy. Sa. 
The humblest of your Lordship's servants.  Lo. 
What Gentlemen is that you bring with you?  Sa. 
It is the Nephew of the good Knight Sir Oliver Thrivewell, of which Sir Oliver, I have procured unto your Lordship the sum which you desired by your servant Mr. Bellamy.  Lo. 
For that I thank him and you, but I could wish you had not brought that Nephew hither now.  Sa. 
Certes my Lord I am sorry.  Lo. 
My reason is, I have entered Bellamy a suitor to the Widow.  Sa. 
He also comes a suitor.  Lo. 
And is in deep discourse with her already, I'll see fair play.  Car. 
But you shall hear me Widow, and that to the point and purpose.  Lo. 
Lady at my request, do this Gentleman (who made the first approach) the favour to be, heard, and answered first.  Car. 
As his approach was first my Lord, she has heard him first already, and my request is to be heard now, and then let her answer both him, or me, or neither, what care I?  Lo. 
Your Name is Careless I take it.  Car. 
I came to talk with this Gentlewoman.  Cros. 
Pray my Lord forbear him, and let him speak, what do you say sir?  Car. 
I say I love you, do resolve to marry you, and then to use you as I list.  Cros. 
I say I love you, do resolve to marry you, and then to use you as I list.— To Bell.—  Bell. 
This to me Lady? I'll take you at your word.  Cros. 
Stay, I do but tell you what he says.  Car. 
Take her at her word again sir, and I shall take you by the lugs. I say again you shall have none but me.  Cros. 
I say again, you shall have none but me,— To Bel.  Car. 
What, do you fool me, or him, yourself, or all?  Cros. 
Pray sir how old are you?  Car. 
Are you good at that, pray sir, how old are you?— To Bel.  Lo. 
You press beyond your privilege, which is only to speak to the Gentlewoman.  Car. 
My Lord I am a Gentleman.  Lo. 
You may tell her so.  Sa. 
Let we beseech your Lordship.  Take him aside. Car. 

How can you use a Gentleman that loves you  
Dearer than Life, and only bends his study  
By all means to deserve you, one that (can not?)  
Will not, while there are ways to die, live out of  
Your favour, with so much despiteful scorn,  
That when he speaks his soul to you through his lips,  
You make his Language yours, and give't a Boy?   Cros. 
What Gentleman's that you speak of?  Car. 
The man that speaks it I am he.  Cros. 
All this sir in effect, and more of my affection, can I speak to you.  Car. 
Uns, but you shall not, you mistake the person to whom you are, or aught to direct your affection, you mistake strangely.  Cros. 

No more than once a Lover, or at least,  
A bold pretender, having in civil language  
Expressed in writing his affection  
To a chaste Mistress sealed, and directed it,  
And on the contrary, courted his virtuous friend in brothel language;  
To a lewd strumpet. Have I hit you sir?   Car. 
What can I say now! 'slife if that anger you after the error found, and confessed, I'll write worse to you, and in earnest.  Cros. 
Mr. Bellamy some other time I shall be glad to see you.  Car. 
she means that to me now, but I'll take no notice; I'll find as good a Widow in a Tavern Chimney, O she's a dainty Widow!  Cros. 

He looks with scorn at me, I must not lose him, yet dare not stay, for fear I tell him so.  
I humbly crave your pardon good my Lord,  
For my ill manners, and abrupt departure;  
The cause is urgent, and I beseech your mercy,  
Question it not.   Lo. 
Let your will guide you.  Cros. 
Mr. Saveall I thank you for my Suitor.  Car. 
Nay but Lady.  Cros. 
Yes you shall control me in my own House.  Exit. Car. 
Yes, yes, I mean so too, but you shall woo me hard first.  Lo. 
'Tis a mad Widow, which of these two now think you has the Better on't?  Sa. 
I think he shall in the end have the best my Lord, that can slight her most.  Lo. 
'Tis my opinion too, and hear me—  Aside. Car. 
Sir, I have seen you but twice, and it has been at places where I cannot allow of your resorts, first at my Ants, and now here at my Widows.  Bel. 
Your Widow sir! I thought she had been the Widow of one deceased.  Car. 
Thou art a witty, pretty Child. But do you here use your wit, out of the smell-reach of your Lords perfumed Gloves, and I shall take you by the Nose.  Bel. 
Forbear sir, I have a Handkercher.  Car. 
And let me find you there no more, nor here I charge you.  Bel. 
I hear your charge sir, but you must leave it to my discretion to obey it, or not.  Car. 
Trust to your discretion!  Lo. 
And so commend me to my Lady Thrivewel Come Bellamy away, what's your discourse?  Bel. 
All fair and friendly my Lord.  Car. 
Very good.  Lo. 
So should it be with Rivals, fare you well Mr. Careless.  Car. 
Your Lordship's— with a whew.  Sav. 
Will you walk homewards?  Car. 
Excuse me sir I pray.  Sav. 
It will not be convenient to return this day unto the Widow.  Car. 
Fear it not sir, I like her not so well now.  Sa. 
Do your pleasure.  Exit. Car. 
Ha' you cross tricks Mistress Crostill? well I will go drink your Crotchets out of my Pate, then home, and do that which mine Aunt and I must only know. This is her Night of Grace, if she keep touch with me.  Exeunt Omnes.   

ACT IV.  

SCENE II.  Enter Lady, Phebe, Closet. La. 
IN truth your story is pitiful, but your own folly has brought your scourge upon you.  Phe. 
'Twas through the blindness of my love, and my credulity Madam, wrought by his strong Temptations.  La. 
Well, for this once I'll strain a point of honour for you, chiefly indeed in answer of his rude unnatural presumption in attempting me. That a Villain can still be so barbarously lustful! If in this way I fit him not, and cause him to desist his beastly purpose, I will discover all to his undoing. Closet you know my mind, and full directions for the conveyance of our design.  Clo. 
Yes Madam, doubt not. Though I have but a naughty head at most, other matters, I dare not trust it for a sure one at such conveyances.  La. 
I presume to further the matter, he'll come home Drunk by his not coming to Supper.  Clo. 
Then he may forget what he so much expected, or sleep away his expectation.  Phe. 
No, he will then be the more vehement till his desire be over.  La. 
You know his humour best it seems, away, away, my husband comes.  Exit Clo. Phe. Enter Thrivewell and Wat. Thr. 
Well Wat, for this discovery I'll make thy reward worth ten such masters' services.  Thr. 
Sweet heart I have a suit to you— But first what Woman's that with Nurse?  La. 
A Kinswoman of hers whom she would prefer to me, but I have answered her, I will not charge your purse with more attendants; only I have given her leave to entertain, and lodge her this night.  Thr. 
That's my good Girl.  La. 
Now what's your suit sir, (as you are pleased to call it) which I would have to be your free command?  Thr. 
'Tis for my absence from thee, to accompany Mr. Saveall, to bring a dear friend on his way to Gravesend tonight, who is suddenly to depart the Land.  La. 
These sudden departures of friends out of the Land, are so frequent, and that I may believe you intend really, and no feigned excuse; now will I think as long as you have good and substantial Made-work at home, that you will seek abroad for any more slight sale-ware.  Thr. 
No more o''at Sweet heart, farewell, expect me early in the morning.  Exit. La. 
I am glad of his absence tonight, lest there should happen some combustion in the house by his unruly Nephew, in case he should discover my deceit in beguiling him with his own wench instead of me, I do even tremble to think upon the unnatural Villain, that would offer so to wrong his Uncle. I thought I had schooled him sufficiently, and beaten him off at his first attempt, and he to assail me again with more forcible temptations urging me to a promise.  Enter Closet. Clo. 
The young Gentleman is come in Madam, and as you foresaw very high flown, but not so drunk as to forget your promise! he's going to bed in expectation of your approach.  La. 
And have you put his Damsel into her night-attire?  Clo. 
Most Ladylike I assure you Madam.  La. 
And let her be sure to steal from him before Day.  Clo. 
Yes, with all silence Madam, she has promised.  Ex. La. 

May Ladies that shall hear this story told,  
Judge mildly of my act since he's so bold.     

ACT IV.  

SCENE III.  Saleware, Bellamy. Sa. 
NAy but look you Mr. Bellamy, it is not I protest that I am jealous, I make this inquiry for my wife. I jealous? I an Asinego than, I am as confident of my wife, as that she is in this house, howe'er you deny her to me.  Bel. 
Why Lady, you are not jealous now? If you were not, you would believe me she is not here.  Sa. 
Without equivocation, Mr. Bellamy, she is not here— indeed, under your foot, but she's here in the house, and under somebody for ought anybody knows, but myself, that do confide in her as I say, and will know no such matter; And so my Lords will be done with her, I hope I shall see her well tomorrow, and at her own house.  Bel. 
Can such language proceed out of any but a jealous mouth?  Sa. 
What an asinego's this! I say again, I do confide in her, nor will I be dashed, or bashed at what any man says of, or against her; And therefore methinks 'tis very strange that you should deny her to me, that comes not to molest her.  Bel. 
There you are again. But since no denial will serve your turn, indeed she is here in this house, and in bed by this time.  Sa. 
Away, away, you mock i'faith, you are a wag she's no more here than I am, if she were here can I think you would tell?  Bel. 
How came you to think, or dream she was in this house at all?  Sa. 
I neither thought it, or dreamed it. I but sir, a waterman brought me a Letter in haste from one Mr. anonymous, intimating that my Ally was with a private friend at this house, and to lie here all night (a very likely matter) what private friend has she but my Lord, and that in a right honourable way, I confide in 'em both for that; but at this house is such a thing my Lord having divers Lodgings, and she a house of her own at his dispose and command, that is such a thing to be thought or dreamed on!  Bel. 
Why came you to inquire then of such a thing?  Sa. 
Why sir, this anonymous writ that I should come hastily hither, and ask to speak with you Mr. Bellamy, and I should know further; hither I came, here I find you, you deny she is here, and what do I inquire any further?  Bel. 
You hear me say again she is here.  Sa. 
Go you are a wag again, she here? is my Lord here? or any private friend? alas, alas you are too young Mr. Bellamy, and may as well persuade me I am jealous.  Bel. 
Well sir, to put you out of all jealousy and doubt (if you be in any) I was the anonymous that sent you the Letter to draw you hither and declare myself your friend, which shall instantly be manifest to you, if now you have a mind to lie with your own wife before any other man.  Sa. 
Then she is here indeed belike.  Bel. 
Pray come with me into the next Chamber.  Sa. 
This is some waggery plotted by my wife, I smell it.  Exit. The Bed put forth, Alicia in it. Enter Bellamy, Saleware, with Light. Bel. 
But you must be sure to say when she discovers you, that you came of your own accord, unsent for, as inspired or possessed by some Dream or Vision, to find her here.  Sa. 
Well, if this be not my wife's waggery in a main proof of her chastity, I am not here. I will do so sir.  Bel. 
So then, obscure yourself a while, while I approach her.  Al. 
Who's there?  Bel. 
'Tis I, your servant Lady.  Al. 
Sweet Bellamy why come you not to Bed?  Sa. 
Good.  Al. 
does the love that was so hot, and the desire that was so fervent, begin to cool in you?  Sa. 
Good again, as if he an Assinego had ever made love to her fine waggery!  Al. 
Has my mere consent to satisfy you, cloyed you?  Sa. 
Consent to my Lord's man, a likely matter!  Al. 
Or did you court me to a promise only to try my fidelity to your Lord, and then betray me?  Bel. 
Dear Lady think not so, but that I am struck into stone with wonder, and amazement at the most unexpected accident that ever crossed a Lover.  Sa. 
Dainty waggery this, what little mad Rogues are these to plot this to make me jealous?  Al. 
Pray, are you serious? what is the accident?  Bel. 
I will not be so crossed, but kill him rather. To enjoy such a Mistress, who would not kill a horned beast? yet blood is such a horror—  Sa. 
Very pretty.  Al. 
Will you not tell me?  Bel. 
Speak lower gentle Lady.  Al. 
Why prithee, who can hear us?  Bel. 
I know not by what Magic your jealous husband has made discovery of our being here, he wrought sure with the Devil!  Al. 
I am undone then. He will tell my Lord.  Sa. 
I shall undo myself then Friend. No, Sapientia mea mihi. Be not dashed nor bashed for that good Friend, if there were any such matter: but this is waggery, fine waggery plotted betwixt you, to tempt my jealousy, but never the sooner for a hasty word I warrant you. Mr. Bellamy that my Wife is here I thank you; But how I came to know it you shall never know from me; you sent not for me, I am sure you were not the anonymous. Indeed it should have been anonyma Friend-wife: for it was thy act I dare swear; However you do not hear me say I was sent, or writ for at all, more than by a Dream or Vision: But here I am and mean to remain tonight; I hope the house can afford you another Bed in't Mr. Bellamy, and you to leave me to my own Friend-wife, I like the lodging most curiously sweet Friend, and I prithee, let's try heartily what luck we may have in a strange place, I would so fain have a little one like thee.  Bel. 
I'll leave you to your wishes, a good night to you.  Al. 
Pray sir a word first, husband be farther.  Sa. 
Faces about Tom Saleware, and march forwards.  Al. 
You told me sir, of a hundred pound that your sweet Lady Thrivewell scent me.  Bel. 
'Tis true I have it for you.  Al. 
But she has since countermanded you to keep it, has she, and to mock my expectation of that, and you? why have you fooled me thus?  Bel. 
I rather should suspect your craft in this prevention: but love forbids me, and I must conclude, 'tis witchcraft in your husband.  Al. 
Come let's kiss friends, and (sweet) tomorrow night I will prevent his Witchcraft, in the full enjoyment of our free pleasures: be you true to me.  Bel. 
May all that's Man in me forsake me else.  Al. 
Another kiss and then good night.  Sa. 
Are you still whispering? no matter, let 'em whisper.  Bel. 
Good night.  Exit. Al. 
Now may the spirits of all injured women, be added to mine own, for my revenge, which I this night will dream of slighted and mocked, he and his like shall know,  

That when a yielding woman is so crossed,  
All thoughts but of revenge with her are lost.   Sa. 
O he's gone— Ally, Friend I would say, And now I prithee tell me how, or why thou cam'st hither.  Al. 
Will you pardon me?  Sa. 
Yes faith, I were no friend else.  Al. 
'Twas but to try if I could make thee jealous.  Sa. 
In waggery! did not I say so! when do my prophecies fail?  Al. 
But what brought you hither think you?  Sa. 
A Letter from one anonymous, but I'll eat Spiders, and break if you sent it not.  Al. 
Give me the Letter.  Sal. 
Where is it? facks I ha' lost it.  Al. 
'Twas I indeed that sent it.  Sa. 
Did not I say so too? and that it should ha' been anonyma, Sapientia mea mihi, when do my prophecies fail? I'll to bed instantly while the prophetic spirit is in me, and get a small Prophet or a Soothsayer.  Al. 
No, I'll have no bedfellow tonight.  Sa. 
ne'er the less for a hasty word, I hope Friend.  Al. 
I am at a word for that.  Sa. 
I'll lie upon thy feet then.  Al. 
Well, you may draw the Curtains, and sleep by me.  Sa. 

Sapientia mea mihi, stultitia tua tibi.  
Puts in the bed,   Exit.   

ACT IV.  

SCENE IV.  Phebe passes over the stage in night attire, Careless follows her as in the dark. Car. 
MAdam, Madam, sweet Madam, 'twill not be day these three hours, stay but three minutes longer, but a touch more, she's whipped into her Chamber. Could I but find the Door— I know my Uncle's from home— O she returns with light: that's well.  Enter Lady, a light. La. 
What ail you! Are you mad?  Car. 
Would not any man be mad for losing such a Bedfellow? sweet Madam, let us retire without any noise.  La. 
What an insatiate beast are you? would you undo for ever both me and yourself?  Car. 
Not with one do more I warrant you, come away Madam, Madam, somebody knocks mainly at the gate; and I believe it is my Master returned before his time!  Enter Closet. La. 
I cannot think 'tis he.  Car. 
'Tis the Rogue my man I warrant drunk, and has forgot I turned him away, but he shall spoil no sport. Come away Madam.  La. 
Closet, go your ways down, and hark before you—  Clo. 
— I will Madam—  Exit. Car. 
So now come Madam, I commend you in the charge you have given your watch-woman.  La. 
What charge do you guess?  Car. 
Why to tell my Uncle (if he be come) that he must not come near you, that you have had no rest tonight till just now you are fallen asleep, and so forth.  La. 
Go you are a wicked fellow; I am sorry for any the least favour I have done thee, and do thou dare to attempt me once more, I'll ha' thee turned headlong out of my doors.  Car. 
I have got her with child tonight, with a spark of mine own spirit, and longs already to do me mischief. The boy will be like me, therefore 'tis pity to knock't o'the head: But come Madam t'other crash and good night, must I drag you to't?  La. 
Touch me but with a finger, and I'll raise the House.  Car. 
You dare not sure, and now take heed you vex me not, have you not been my whore?  La. 
You dare not say so, for spoiling your fortune.  Car. 
Faith but I dare, and if you will not obey me in a course of further pleasure tonight, fetch me a hundred pieces to take a course abroad withal, do ye look? I'll make you fetch me hundred after hundred housewife, when I want it, or shall be pleased to call for't. All comes out else, the gates of your fame flies open Lady, I will proclaim our Act.  La. 
Dare you forfeit your own Reputation so?  Car. 
I shall gain Reputation by't in the company I keep abroad, and if the Cuckold my Uncle come to the knowledge of it at home, I shall possess him that you lustfully tempted me to it.  La. 
Canst thou be so villainously impudent to destroy thine own fortune to ruin me?  Car. 
You may conceal all then, and so will I, and mend my fortune by yours, I will live bravely upon your fortune, and the heir which I have got tonight shall inherit it, my Uncle's estate. And therefore indeed I would have all concealed; for my child's good, or rather for mine own: for it shall go hard if I put him not into a course in his minority to consume the estate upon me before he come to age.  La. 
I am undone.  Car. 
And O that ever I did it!  La. 
Thou Villain, hast undone me.  Car. 

Come I'll do you again, and then all's whole again;  
You're both undone, O you prodigious monsters  
That have betwixt you made me monster too!  
What's to be done, but that I kill you both,  
Then fall upon my sword.   Enter Thrivewell Saveall. Sav. 

Sir, you resume the temper of humanity,  
And let the Law distinguish you from them,  
You neither are to be their Executioner,  
Nor to fall with them.   Thr. 
Life to me is torment.  Car. 
O the Devil, what a case am I in now!  La. 
Pray hear me sir?  Thr. 

Can more be said to aggravate thy shame,  
Or my affliction, than I have heard already?   Sa. 
Let me entreat you hear her.  La. 

What shame did you, or what affliction I  
Suffer, when you discovered unto me  
Your bargain of a hundred pound in Saleware,  
You understand me. How was life a torment  
To me then think you?   Thr. 

Did you not vow forgements then? and thus,  
You freely would forgive my act? and thus  
Now to revenge it on me to my ruin,  
And your own endless infamy? O 'tis horrid.   La. 

'Tis no revenge at all, only a show  
To startle you, or try your manly temper,  
And so near to be even with ye as to let you know,  
what some wife might perhaps ha' done being so moved,  
It was my plot indeed to strain you hither to this false  
fire discovery, for which I'll give you reasons.   Thr. 
O gross dissimulation.  La. 
Mr. Saveall, you have done many fair offices for his Nephew, do this for me, entreat him to a Conference a few minutes in my Chamber; if I clear not myself in his and your opinion, and that by witnesses, let me be found the shame of all my Sex.  Sa. 
Sir, my counsels have been prevalent with your judgement, let me persuade you.  Thr. 
But I will have that friend thrust out of door first.  La. 
I would not that you should, nor give a look, or word to him till you have heard me; Then exercise your Justice.  Sav. 
Sir be induced to it.  Thr. 
You have prevailed.  La. 
Go to your Bed again George, and sleep, be not afraid of Bugbears.  Exit. Car. 
How's this? she's come about again, and has patched all up already. I hope she'll work mine Uncle to reward me for my Nightwork, and bring him in time to hold my stirrup while his George mounts her; she's a delicate well-going beast! I know but one to match her in a course, just the same pace and speed as if I had only had the breaking, and managing of her myself, but the mark goes out of Phoebe's mouth now; and I'll play my Aunt against all the Town. But how she thought to fright me with villain and impudent. And now go to bed George, ha, ha, ha, I find her drift. No wit like women's at a sudden shift.    

ACT V.  

SCENE I.  Enter Old Bellamy, Lovely. Lov. 
BEllamy thou art welcome, and for thy Nephew I must ever thank thee, he is my best companion.  Old Bel. 
O my good Lord without boast be it spoken, I have ever been right and straight to your honour, and never did you an ill office in Man, Woman, or Child, what I have said of 'em they have proved at first, or I have wrought 'em to at last. But what do I speak on't, I have ever been for your Lordship, all things I have sworn for you, I have fought for you, I have broked for you; I have pimped for you, but what do I speak on't?  Lo. 
You need not Bellamy: for I know all.  Ol. B. 
Oh the gentlemen's Wives, and farmer's Daughters that I have presented to you in your Summer Progresses, and winter Journeys about the Countries. But what do I speak on't—  Lo. 
Because thou lov'st to champ upon the bit to please thy old coltish tooth still, thou lov'st the memory of the former sweets which now thou canst not relish.  Ol. B. 
And here i' the City, I have pledged more of your several Mistresses, then in my conscience there be honest Women in't. But what do I speak on't?  Lo. 
I never had so many man.  Ol. B. 
Or if you had, what do I speak on't? and in my conscience again, I have drunk more to your Lordship's health in my days, than any Wine-cellar in the City at this day, contains of Spanish French, and Rhenish; but what do I speak of that either?  Lo. 
True Bellamy, fall then upon some other subject.  Ol. B. 
Yes, my good Lord, and I pray your Lordship tell me, does not my Nephew drink and wench pretty handsomely? I would fain have him take after me, and not his drunken father.  Lo. 
How well he shifts his subject, wicked old fellow!  Ol. B. 
does he not begin to fall to yet?  Lo. 
Not he.  Ol. B. 
Not a bit nor a soup? does he do nothing by example? or has your Lordship left it? or does he carry it like a Gentleman?  Lo. 
Discreetly and Virginlike.  Ol. B. 
Pretty commendation for a young Courtier.  Lo. 
I would for my deserved love to him have put him upon a fair young Widow of a great fortune, but could not make him look upon her like a suitor.  Ol. B. 
Just such a bashful puppy was my brother, his Father; I wonder how my Mother came by him; My Father was right, and she was right, and I have been right, but what do I speak on't?  Lo. 
True Bellamy, speak of somewhat else.  Ol. B. 
The Boy will ne'er grow up to me, I thought to have left him somewhat, I must discard him.  Lo. 
If you do, he is in me provided for.  Ol. B. 
What can your Lordship love him for?  Lo. 
Come I'll tell thee, and be comforted. He has something of thee in him. He will pimp most conveniently.  Ol. B. 
That's something indeed.  Lo. 
And for his modesty which is a rare benefit of nature in him, I dare trust him with a Mistress, as I would an Eunuch.  Ol. B. 
Benefit! A defect I fear, yet I may hope in time some Mistress of your Lordships may tempt, and bring him forwards.  Lo. 
No I am confident— Now your news.  Enter Page, whisper. 
Good Bellamy walk in the Gallery a while.  Ol. B. 
Some Mistress is coming to him, but what do I speak on't?  Exit. 

Go bid her come in. Exit. Page.  
What brings her so unseasonably?   Enter Alicia, Saleware. Al. 
Stay you at distance yet a while Friend, till I call you.  Sal. 
Faces about Tom Saleware.  Exit. Lo. 
How now! How is it with my love? Ha! How comes a trouble on this Face, where my delights are ever wont to Revel?  Al. 
O my Lord—  Lo. 
Say who has injured thee? Has thy husband taken up the uncivil boldness to abuse thee? or be it any other man, it shall be death, or an undoing to him.  Al. 
My Lord, I am wronged, but would be loath to engage your noble person in my quarrel, some servant of yours may do it.  Lo. 
Of what condition is thy wrong? tell me; and who of my Servants thou wouldst have to right thee?  Al. 
I would have Bellamy, how think you? is he faithful to you?  Lo. 
How canst thou question it? Has he not ever been so?  Al. 
Your Lordship has well trusted him I know.  Lo. 
I do not know the man, I trust, or love so well.  Al: 
But would your Lordship part with any Jewel, or choice thing you love, and have intended only for your own particular use, to him, or let him be your own partner in it?  Lo. 
Troth I think I should; only thyself excepted, but what's thy wrong I prithee, or wherein should Bellamy right thee?  Al. 
Bellamy has wronged me to think me so unworthy as to be tempted to his lust; Bellamy has wronged your honour in that ambitious attempt.  Lo. 
Thou amazest me.  Al. 
And Bellamy must right me, and your honour; or you must cast off him or me.  Lo. 
Give me at least some circumstance to make this probable.  Al. 
Must not I be believed? you shall have instance then to make it truth, Friend Thomas.  
Pray verify unto my Lord the discovery you made last night of me, and Mr. Bellamy.  Enter Saleware. Sal. 
'Twas thus my Lord an't like your Lordship, my wife was forth at evening an't like your Lordship, as she may have often been an't like your Lordship, and may be as oft again an't like your Lordship.  Lo. 
Well pray thee on.  Sal. 
Forth she was an't like your Lordship, I stayed supper, and almost bed time for her an't like your Lordship; And had even given her over for all night an't like your Lordship, as I may of any night an't like your Lordship.  Lo. 
On I pray thee.  Sal. 
Yes an't like your Lordship upon some private notice given to me an't like your Lordship, that she was at a private lodging an't like your Lordship, with a private friend an't like your Lordship, over I went, and found her a-bed an't like your Lordship, and Mr. Bellamy even ready to go to bed to her an't like your Lordship.  Lo. 
Is this true?  Sa. 
As true as your Lordship lives an't like your Lordship.  Lo. 
How could you be betrayed so?  Al. 
The Villain fetched me forth, and lodged me there as by your appointment, and for your own pleasure; but when 'twas late, and that your Lordship came not, thinking he had an advantageous opportunity, he soon discovers his love to me, and his treachery to your Lordship; I being in a strait only (finding happy means to send for my husband to prevent him) made him a false promise being secure in my husband; and what had followed your Lordship understands.  Lo. 
I'll ne'er trust man can blush and weep again.  Sa. 
Insooth an't like your Lordship I thought all had been but waggery an't like your Lordship, to tempt me unto jealousy, and my wife knowing well enough that I was by, bade Sweet Bellamy come to Bed, O Wag!  Lo. 
What messenger brought you the notice Mr. Saleware?  Sa. 
A waterman my Lord, and like your Lordship, here's the letter, and like your Lordship.  Al. 
You told me you had lost it, when I asked for't to burn it.  Sa. 
I thought I had Friend, but I found it now, and given it my Lord before I was aware Friend.  Al. 
Hell take that Letter.  Sa. 
Now abotts on't for me, if thou be'st angry Friend.  Al. 
You had better ha' swallowed it full of Ratsbane.  Sa. 
ne'er the sooner for a hasty word I hope Friend.  Reads. Lo. 
Mr. Saleware, if you will avoid a new addition of horns, come with this bearer over into Montague's close, where you shall find your Wife with a private Friend, at a private lodging; Hast thither, and ask for one Bellamy.  Anonimus. 
What Riddles this? This is Bellamy's own hand, I know it, why should he send to prevent himself? or how could she write his Character? This Woman is not right.  Al. 
Do you note my art my Lord, to write as in a Man's Name, when I wrought it myself?  Sa. 
And did not I tell you Friend, it should ha' been anonyma? Sapientia mea mihi.  Lo. 
Within there call Bellamy.  Enter Page. Pa. 
he's not within my Lord, and has not been tonight.  Al. 
His absence is another circumstance to a probability my Lord.  
But he was seen this morning to go in at Sir Anthony thrivewel's.  Lo. 
Go let my Coach be ready presently.  Exit. Pa. 
He should receive 500 l. there for me, I trust he will not furnish himself with it for a flight.  Al. 
My Lord I gave you an inkling of a familiarity betwixt him and the Lady Thrivewell, he has since declared their act of lust to me, and urged it for an instance to my yielding.  Lo. 
Can you affirm this?  Al. 
Yes, to his face and hers.  Enter Saveall. Lo. 
O Mr. Saveall! welcome.  Sa. 
My Lord your servant Bellamy is receiving your money at Sir Anthony Thrivewell's.  Lo. 
I thank you.  Sav. 
But my Lord, there is fallen an unhappy accident between Sir Anthony, his Lady and his Nephew, in which your servant Bellamy also is concerned; And your Lordship is much, and most humbly beseeched by the Lady to hear, and examine the difference.  Enter Old Bellamy. Lo. 
I was preparing thither. Oh Mr. Bellamy, you have not eavesdropped, have you?  Old Bel. 
Will you pardon me my Lord?  Lo. 
Yes if thou hast.  Old Bel. 
I have my Lord, and am overjoyed to hear so well of my Nephew.  Lo. 
You may hear more anon, come all along with me.  Ex. Omnes. Old Bel. 
I may hear more anon, your Lordship tho' knows not of what so well as I do know.  Exit.   

ACT V.  

SCENE II.  Enter Thrivewell, Careless, Lady, Phebe, Closet, Wat. Thr. 
I Need not cast thee off, or bid thee go Now, and for ever from me, thine own shame Will force thee hence.  Car. 
You are deceived in that.  Thr. 

What is thine own take with thee, here 'tis all Phebe.  
Thou ever getst, or canst expect from me.   Car. 
she was mine own before your wife became our coupler, in English plain our Bawd.  Thr. 
Use no uncivil Language while you are well.  Car. 
For which you have your witnesses, this false Traitor, that brought you on.  La. 
By my direction George.  Wat. 
No Traitor neither since you left to be my Master, wounded and turned me off.  Car. 
And this dark lantern here, this old deceptio visus, That juggled the wrong party into my Bed.  Clo. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Car. 
Do you grin Grim Malkin? But sweet Madam, if your fine springal Bellamy had lain there in my stead she would ha' brought the right party; your ladyship's Lily white self.  Thr. 
How's that?  La. 
No more o' that good George.  Car. 
Nay, it shall out, since you have wrought my ruin, I will be the destruction of you all; And therefore now hear me O Knight, and first resolve to make me rich in my reward, for wonders I'll unfold.  Thr. 
Canst thou expect reward from me for any thing that can by thee be uttered?  Car. 
Reward? why not? why should not you reward my good Offices as well as punish my ill? I must and will rely upon you for all the good that can befall me; or if I must expect no further from you, I'll give't you gratis, And if you be any thing but a wittol hear me.  La. 
What do you mean?  Car. 
To set you out livelier, than all your paintings: or d'ee hear, will you give me a hundred pound a quarter for my silence?  La. 
Not a penny; if you seek my undoing, heaven forgive you.  Thr. 
What (Villain) canst thou speak to her prejudice?  Car. 
That which (if you are no wittol) you'll be loath to hear, but you shall have it.  Thr. 
dar'st thou talk so?  Car. 
And since you hold my attempt at her, so heinous, you may be pleased to know I was incited to't by example of him I named, that smooth Faced Bellamy.  Thr. 
dar'st thou accuse her with him?  Car. 
You may ask her bolster there, her Madam Nurse old Mother Cock broth.  Clo. 
O me.  Car. 
ay, O you ask her sir, what she did with him, or he with her, in their two hours' privacy in her chamber, when he came to take up five hundred pound for his Lord, There was a sweet taking up, sir she confessed all to me, and on purpose, I dare be sworn to embolden me in my attempt to her Ladyship.  Clo. 
I confess?  Thr. 
What did she confess?  Car. 
That he made use of your Bed with your wife, what language shall I utter't in? you were best fee it done before you believe it.  Thr. 
O me most miserable if this be true!  Car. 
Well, there's for them two.  La. 
Go Closet till I call you.  Exit Clo. Car. 
Now for that Rogue (because I must expect no further good of you, but this which is mine own you say) I'll lay him open to you, you remember how once I ingratiated myself to you by rescuing you from a Robbery and Murder (as you supposed) for which you took me into favour—  Thr. 
Yes, and have wished a thousand times since, that I had lost the thousand pound I had about me then, and ta'en some wounds for't in exchange rather than by that rescue to have taken thy Viperous self into my bosom.  Car. 
This Rogue plotted that business, 'twas a mere trick of his invention. The supposed Thieves were his companions, and wrought by him only to scare you and run away when we came to your succour, only to endear me to you. There was no hurt meant, but the slap I gave him over the Pate to colour the business, with little blood, I wish now I had cleft his brains.  Thr. 
Your wish tho' against your will is a good reward to him, for I love him the better for his wit in that plot, and care of his then Master.  Car. 
Do you so sir? Then 'twas mine own invention, let him deny't if he can.  Wat. 
Indeed the plot was his sir, I only found the Actors.  Thr. 
I cannot condemn the conceit however; and am something taken with the wit on't, would all the rest were no worse.  Car. 
And now I have uttered my whole mind sir, and you declared I must expect no further good of you, come away Phib, I have injured thee long, I'll make thee now amends for all; I'll marry thee, and sell Tobacco with thee.  La. 
Let him not go sir, I beseech you in this desperate way, nor till I answer to his accusation.  Thr. 
Sir you shall stay, and make yourself good before authority, or clear my wife.  Car. 
You'll have your house then known to have been a bawdy-house?  Thr. 
The Courts of Princes and Religious Houses May so have been abused.  Car. 
Under such Governesses.  Thr. 
You'll anon be silent, what's the matter? we are busy.  Enter Closet. Ser. 
Mistress Crostill, Madam is come in great haste to visit you, and a Kinsman of your Ladyships with her.  Thr. 
At such a time? excuse yourself.  Ser. 
They are here sir, entered against all resistance.  Enter Crostill, Fitzgerrard. La. 

Mistress Crostill! you have much honoured me—  
cousin Fitzgerrard! welcome.   Fit. 
I have a private suit to you Madam.  La. 
Pray Mr. Thrivewell entertain the Lady.  Car. 
Another sprunt youth.  Cros. 

Sir, I perceive some discontent here, I hope your  
Nephew has not again displeased you?   Thr. 
He is a villain, seeks my utter ruin,  Cros. 
Pray say not so, for fear you force me love him.  Thr. 
You are undone for ever if you do.  Cros. 

Do not say so, for fear I fly to him,  
The thought of him already breaks my sleeps,  
I could not rest tonight for thinking of him,  
Which made my early haste to unload my mind,  
Presuming that your judgement may excuse  
A simple Woman's weakness, what is she  
That he courts so?   Thr. 
I tell you, she's a Whore with Child by him, lays claim to him, and I think he'll marry her.  Cros. 
Still you speak better of him, and my love must not see him so lost, sir let me speak with you.  Car. 
Me Lady? I am busy; I am busy.  Cros. 

What mettle am I of? his scorn's a Loadstone;  
No Courtship like his carelessness to me;  
And all dispraise speaks for him,  
Sir I will speak with you.   Car. 
I blush for you, what would you say now, were it not too late?  Cros. 
Nay only to your ear.  Car. 
Stand off a while Phib.  Goes aside. Fit. 

His Lordship Madam shall give me account  
To each particular.   La. 

You shall do well to put it to him x—  
Husband, I overheard you, and commend you,  
That tho' you cast your Nephew from all hopes  
Of good from you, you will not yet destroy  
His fortunes other ways.   Thr. 
How do you mean?  La. 

For that I find by your reviling him  
You more inflame that cross fantastic Widow  
With eager love to cast herself upon him.   Thr. 
Had I thought so, I had spoke well of him Against my conscience.  La. 

No, let me entreat you.  
Be that way charitable, and speak worse;  
The worse the better.   Car. 

Tempt me not good Lady,  
To your own prejudice, your destruction;  
I am one you cannot live and lie withal  
A fortnight you, alas you're but a grissell,  
Weak picking meat; Here's one will hold me tack,  
seven constant ordinaries every night,  
Noonings, and intermealiary Lunchings,  
At freedom every day, hold belly hold,  
The Cupboard never shut.   Cros. 
I understand you not.  Car. 

Nor mind me Lady; 'twill be better for you.  
You had a thin chined husband, played at Doublets with ye,  
And that perhaps, but twice or thrice a week,  
You are incapable of better Game,  
Here's one shall hold me Tick tack night by night,  
And neither of us guilty of a Why-not,  
she's bred up to my hand, and knows her play.   Cros. 
Can you so slight me?  Car. 

'slight? I honour you.  
In caring for you to preserve your life,  
And your estate, which I confess myself  
Unworthy of: besides I am engaged  
To do a poor soul right for my issue's sake  
She goes withal.   Cros. 
But say on composition she acquit you.  Car. 
O but conscience is conscience.  Cros. 

I'll die or have him presently.  
Can you refuse me for a prostitute whore?   Car. 

Take heed what you say, I'll shake your estate,  
If you dare call her whore 'fore witnesses.   Cros. 

Call all the World to hear me Madam,  
Sir Anthony, and the rest, be all my witnesses;  
Give me your hand sir, here before you all  
I plight my faith upon this Gentleman,  
He is my Husband, and I am his Wife.   Thr. 
You are then undone.  Cros. 
I care not sir, for your ill will: no more shall he.  Car. 
Are you catched Widow? Future, for uncles now?  Cros. 
Why answer you not me, in troth plight?  Car. 

I do, but yet I tell you again conscience is conscience;  
The Woman's not compounded with.   Cros. 
I'll give her a brace of hundred pounds.  Phe. 
The Woman will not take it.  Wat. 
The Woman shall take it, for now know sir, I love you not so ill as to undo you. This Woman has been mine as much as yours, she has done as much with me for Offices, and Service I have done for her, as she has done with you for Love and Money, let her deny't.  Car. 
I have lately suspected so.  Wat. 
And if her Friends will make her brace of hundreds a leash I'll marry, and honestify her.  La. 
Honest Wat in good earnest. Gentlewoman with your hand give him your consent, and I'll supply you with the odd hundred pound, for Wat's love to his Master.  Thr. 
Will you?  La. 
Yes, and with your allowance; it shall be in lieu of the hundred I took in Commodity of her Kinswoman Mistress Saleware, which would never thrive with me (as it may properly with them) as 'twas the price of lust you know it was, and how untowardly things have chanced amongst us since it was so; And now that I have declined it, you shall see how sweetly all will be reconciled.  Thr. 
Do as you please.  La. 
Go get you to the Priest presently, and bring him hither for thy Master, Wat.  Exit Wat. Phe. Enter Lord Lovely, Old Bellamy, Saveall, Saleware, Alicia. Lov. 
Madam you sent for me, though I had former cause to require a conference with you.  La. 
My cause my Lord, is almost ended among ourselves. Pray let your former therefore be determined first, your Lordship may be pleased to sit.  Lo. 
I desire first by good Sir Anthony's patience, Madam a word with you in absence of all the rest, except this Gentlewoman.  Thr. 
With all respect my Lord.  La. 
No you shall stay, and all the rest, speak openly my Lord, I do beseech you.  Lo. 
My modesty forbids.  La. 
I'll speak it for you then; Good my Lord sit judge, This Woman comes to accuse me of incontinency with your servant Bellamy, is it not so?  Old Bel. 
I marry does she Madam to make her word good to my Lord that he would have lain with her too; And says that Bellamy affirmed to her that he did, I marry did he with your Ladyship.  La. 
Ha, ha, ha, I have a Nephew here affirmed as much.  Enter What whispers. Car. 
I am sorry I said so much, 'twas but my suspicion in the days of my wickedness, I am honest now, and can think no such matter— O is the parson come—  Exit Ca. Cros. Wat. Thr. 
I fear I shall be wretched.  Sav. 
You are wretched in your fear, note your wife's confidence; Can Guilt look with that Face?  Lov. 
I understand that Bellamy is in your house.  La. 
Forth coming my good Lord. Good Master Bellamy, fetch your Nephew, you'll find him in my Chamber.  Exit. Fitz. 

And in this respect you shall give me leave  
My Lord to call your honour into question.   Lov. 

You're very round with me Mr. Fitzgerrard,  
What is your question?   Fitz. 
Where is my Sister Amie?  Lov. 
Ask you me?  Fitz. 

Yes, and in honour you're to answer me,  
It is too evident, your courtship won  
Her Virgin honour.   Lov. 
Then I forced her not.  Fitz. 

The blame of that lay therefore on herself,  
That loss I seek not after: but I ask  
Her life and being (if she live or be)  
Of you my Lord, since it is manifest,  
She left her friends, and Country shortly after  
Her folly had betrayed her into shame,  
To be at your dispose, as we presume  
She is since in her two years' absence; we  
Have sought all other ways in vain; you shall  
Do therefore well my Lord to render her,  
Or give me leave to urge you t'an account  
Of what's become of her.   Lov. 

You cannot sure  
Compel me sir.   Fitz. 
To hazard of my life I will my Lord.  Lov. 
That she is lost I am grieved; But for your stout demand I'll answer you at Weapons, time and place convenient.  Enter Old Bellamy, and Bellamy in a Woman's habit, Closet. Old Bel. 
I'll end your difference x Fitzgerrard, here is your Sister Amie my Lord, here is your servant Bellamy, whom I preferred to you as my Nephew, to be a Go-betwixt you and Mistresses, which quality I now abhor, as I could wish your Lordship would leave— Wenching for this inconstant Woman's sake that would be prostitute unto your servant. 'Twas a flat bargain, and but a flat one, but for the non-performance her husband may thank their party of Sex, not his wife's want of desire.  Sal. 
ne'er the sooner for a hasty word I hope.  Old Bel. 
What further end she had to serve your Lordship she may relate herself.  Bel. 

Lost to myself, and friends being made unfit  
In any other Region to appear,  
And more unable to live other where;  
Then in the presence of my loved Lord  
(Although not as myself) I did assume  
That Masculine boldness, so to let you know  
My Lord, that I more fully could subsist  
By the mere sight of you, and so contain  
myself, than she your more respected Mistress  
Could in the rich and plentiful enjoyments  
Of your most real, and essential favours.   Lov. 
Sweet let us speak aside.  Sal. 
What ails my Friend? is not all this now but a plot to make me jealous?  Al. 
I am discovered and undone.  chafes. Sal. 
ne'er the sooner for a hasty word I hope Friend. Come leave your waggery, is not all this but a plot now to make me jealous?  La. 
Your Plot good Mistress Saleware would not hold.  Sal. 
Nor shall it hold good Madam, I cannot be jealous, Sapientia mea mihi.  La. 
Yet the young Gentleman (such as you see he is) has lain with me of old, before I was married; do not look so dismaidly, I will not detect you with my husband for a hundred pound—  Sal. 
Nor will I be jealous for a thousand Madam, your plot's too weak Facks, but where's my injured Kinswoman, Madam?  La. 
O Phebe Gin crack! she is by this time righted, that is Married.  Sa. 
Sapientia mea mihi, again then for that, that was my plot, and it held Madam.  Lov. 

My dear, dear Amie, and my Bellamy,  
I do commend your vow of future chastity,  
Vowing the same myself, and here before  
Your Brother, and these friends to help your marriage  
I freely give you two hundred pounds a year  
During your life.   Sav. 
Now do you note the effect of all Sir Anthony?  Thr. 
I do with my much joy.  Lov. 

And Mistress Saleware, for your falsehood  
(Which I forgive, because you are a Woman)  
I quit familiarity with you, and advise you  
To love your husband, giving him no cause  
Of fear or jealousy.   Ali. 
Your Lordship counsels well.  Sal. 
Hang fears and jealousies, I would there were no greater in the Kingdom, then in Tom Saleware's Coxcomb; But by your favour friend, we will be friends no more, but loving man and wife henceforward.  Ali. 
That shall be as you please.  Music. Enter Careless, Crostill, Wat, Phebe. La. 
See new Married couples, please your Lordship to take notice?  Lov. Salutes the Brides. Car. 
Uncle and Madam, I am come to call you to my house to Dinner, and your Lordship if you please, and all the rest here, I want one, my Rival Bellamy, where is he? we'll be all friends today; and at night sweet heart,— at night, at night, at night—  
we'll get the Boy that shall become a Knight  Cros. 
You promise lustily.  Wat. 
And Phebe if thou be'st not better provided already, if I get not thee with Squire, let me turn clown.  Car. 
But where's this Bellamy, what new Ladies that?  Old Bel. 
This new Lady sir, is that Bellamy you inquire for.  Sav. 
The same Gentleman that you accused your Aunt with.  Clo. 
That I confess had line with her.  Car. 
Ha, is't so i'faith? and (now I think on't) introth I thought so; would I have taxedher think you, but with a Woman? pray Mr. Bellamy let me salute your lips, and good Uncle now we are Neighbours, and both good Housekeepers, let us not be strangers to one another.  Thr. 
Well sir, as I shall find you by your wife's report I shall be still your Uncle.  Car. 
I shall be his heir in spite o' the Devil, and all his works and mine.  Lov. 
Come Madam, I find here's Music, let's lead the Brides a Dance to stir their appetites to Dinner.  Dance. Car. 

And now my Lord to grace our Wedding feast,  
As you in honour are the greatest Guest  
You have full power to welcome all the rest.     
FINIS.   

EPILOGUE.  

WEll! had you Mirth enough? much good may't do you,  
If not, 'tis more than I did promise to you.  
'Tis your own fault, for it is you, not we  
Make a Play good or bad; and if this be  
Not answerable to your expectation  
Ye are the freeborn People of this Nation,  
And have the power to censure Worth and Wit,  
But we must suffer for what you commit.  
Yet we're resolved to bear your gentle Hands,  
And if you will tie us in any Bands,  
Let us be bound to serve you, and that's thus,  
To tell you truth, as long as you serve us.    

 

 
The Shop discovered, Alicia, & Bellamy.  
Aside.