THE CITY WIT, OR, The Woman wears the BREECHES.  
A COMEDY.  
LONDON, Printed by T. R. for Richard Marriot, and Thomas Dring, and are to be sold at their Shops in Fleetstreet, 1653.   

The Prologue.  
Quot quot adestis, salvete, salvetote Gentlemen,  
YOu see I come unarmed among you, sine Virga aut Ferula, without Rod or Ferular, which are the Pedants weapons. Id est, that is to say, I come not hither to be an Instructor to any of you, that were Aquilam volare docere, aut Delphinum natare, to teach the Ape, well learned as myself. Nor came I to instruct the Comedians. That were for me to be Asinus inter simias, the fool o'the Company: I dare not undertake them. I am no Paedagogus nor Hypodidascalus here. I approach not hither ad erudiendum, nec ad Corrigendum. Nay I have given my Scholars leave to play, to get a Vacuum for myself today, to Act a particle here in a Play; an Actor being wanting that could bear it with port and state enough. A Pedant is not easily imitated. Therefore in person, I for your delight have left my School to tread the Stage. Pray Jove the terror of my brow spoil not your mirth, for you cannot forget the fury of a Tutor, when you have lain under the blazing Comet of his wrath, with quaeso Praeceptor te precor da— etc. But, let fear pass, nothing but mirth's intended.  
But I had forgot myself, A Prologue should be in Rhyme, etc. therefore I will begin again.  

Kind Gentlemen, and men of gentle kind,  
There is in that a figure, as you'll find,  
Because we'll take your ears as 'twere in Ropes,  
I'll nothing speak but figures, strains & tropes.   

Quot quot adestis Salvete salvetote.  
The Schoolmaster that never yet besought ye,  
Is now become a suitor, that you'll sit,  
And exercise your Judgement with your wit,  
On this our Comedy, which in bold Phrase,  
The Author says has passed with good applause  
In former times. For it was written, when  
It bore just Judgement, and the seal of Ben  
Some in this round may have both seen't, and heard,  
Ere I, that bear its title, wore a Beard.  
My suit is therefore that you will not look,  
To find more in the Title than the Book.  
My part the Pedant, though it seem a Column  
Is but a Page, compared to the whole volume.  
What bulk have I to bear a Scene to pass,  
But by your favours multiplying Glass.  
In nova fert Animus, then I'll do my best  
To gain your Plaudite among the rest.  
So with the salutation I first brought ye,  
Quot quot adestis, salvete salvetote.    

Dramatis Personae.  

crazy, a young Citizen, falling into decay.  
Jeremy, his Apprentice.  
Sarpego, a Pedant.  
Sneakup, Crasy's Father in Law.  
Pyannet, Sneakup's Wife.  
Ticket two Courtiers.  
Rufflit two Courtiers.  
Lady Ticket.  
Josina, Crasy's Wife.  
Linsy-Wolsey, a thrifty Citizen.  
Toby, son to Sneakup.  
Bridget, josina's Maid.  
Crack, a Boy that sings. 

two keeping Women.  
Isabell  
Joan      

The City Wit. OR, The woman wears the Breeches.  

ACT. I.  

Scene I.  A Dinner carried over the Stage in covered Dishes. Exeunt. Enter Crasy, Jeremy. 
SEt forth that Table Jer.  A Table set forth with empty Moneybags, Bills, Bonds, & Books of accounts, etc. Jer. 
Will you not go in and dine, Sir?  Cra. 
No: I am of other diet today.  Jer. 
The whole company expects you.  Cra. 

May they sit merry with their cheer,  
while I feed on this hard meat. And wait  
you within: I shall not change a trencher.   Ier. 
Alas my good Master.  Exit. Cra. 

Here are the nests, but all the He takes up the bags.  
Birds are flown.  
How easy a thing it is to be undone,  
When credulous Man will trust his 'state to others!  
Am I drawn dry? Not so much as the Lees left?  
Nothing but empty Cask? have I no refuge  
To fly to now? Yes, here, about a groats worth He takes up the bills & papers.  
Of paper it was once. Would I had now  
Greens groatsworth of wit for it. But 'twill serve  
To light tobacco-pipes. Here (let me see)  
Here is three hundred pound, two hundred here.  
And here one hundred, and two hundred here;  
Fifty; fifty; fifty; and one hundred here,  
And here one hundred and fifty. Besides  
A many parcels of small debts, which make  
Two hundred more. I shall not live to tell it,  
But put it up, and take it by the weight. He puts the Bills & Bonds into a Bag.  
O me! how heavy 'tis! And, doubtless, so 'twould be  
At some man's heart. It troubles me a little. Enter Jeremy.  
Now what news?   He takes up a scroll. Jer. 

My mistress, and your Mother Sir,  
entreats you to come to dinner.   Cra. 

These they are; My debts,  
That strike me through. This bag will never pay  
Any of these.   Jer. 
Sir, shall I say you'll come?  Cra. 

How well it were, if any of my Creditors  
Could once but dream that this were current money!   Jer. 
What shall I say?  Cra. 
Even what thou wilt, good Jeremy.  Jer. 

Alas you know, this dinner was appointed  
A friendly meeting for most of your Creditors,  
And many of your Debtors.   Cra. 

But I hope  
Few of the last appear.   Jer. 

None but some privileged Courtiers, that dare  
Put in at all men's Tables. They're all set,  
Your Creditors on one side, and your Debtors  
On tother; and do only stay for you.   Cra. 
To feed on; do they? Go. I will not come.  Jer. 

I fear, Sir, you will overthrow the good  
That was intended you. You know this meeting  
Was for the Creditors to give longer day,  
As they should find your Debtors to acknowledge  
The sums they owe you. Sir I should be sorry  
To see you sink, or forced to hide your head,  
That looked as high, as any in the City.   Cra. 

Prithee go in. And if they seem to stay,  
Pray 'em fall too; tell 'em I take this time  
Only to order my Accounts, and that as soon  
As they are full, and fit to talk, I'll come:  
Good jeremy go.   Jer. 
Introth I pity him—  Exit weeping. Cra. 

A right good Boy thou art. I think on thee:  
What must I do now? All I have is lost,  
And what I have not, sought to be forced from me,  
I must take nimble hold upon Occasion,  
Or lie for ever in the Bankrupt ditch,  
Where no man lends a hand to draw one out.  
I will leap over it, or fall bravely in't,  
Scorning the Bridge of Baseness, Composition,  
Which doth infect a City like the Plague,  
And teach men Knavery, that were never born to't:  
Whereby the Rope-deserving Rascal gains  
Purple and Furs, Trappings and golden Chains.  
Base Composition, baser far than Want,  
Than Beggary, Imprisonment, Slavery:  
I scorn thee, though thou lov'st a Tradesman dearly  
And mak'st a Chandler Lord of thousands yearly.  
I will have other aid. How now! Again?   Enter jeremy: Jer. 
O, Sir, you are undone.  Cra. 
Hast thou no news, jeremy?  Jer. 
Alas your Mother Sir—  Cra. 

Why what of her?  
Is there a Plate lost, or a 'Postle-spoon  
A China Dish broke, or an ancient Glass,  
And stained with Wine her damask tablecloth?  
Or is the Salt fallen towards her? What's the matter?   Jer. 

Her mischievous tongue has overthrown the good  
Was meant to you.   Cra. 
What Good, good jeremy?  Jer. 

Your Creditors were on a resolution  
To do you good, and madly she opposed it,  
And with a vehement voice proclaims you a Beggar;  
Says, you have undone her Daughter; that no good  
Is fit to be done for you: And such a storm  
Of wicked breath—   Cra. 
She's drunk; Is she not, jeremy?  Jer. 

No Sir, 'tis nothing but her old disease,  
The Tongue-ague, whose fit is now got up  
To such a height, the Devil cannot lay it.  
The learned Schoolmaster, Mr. Sarpego  
Has conjured it by all his parts of speech,  
His Tropes and Figures; and cannot be heard  
I'th' furious Tempest. All your Creditors  
Are gone in Rage; will take their course, they say.  
Some of your Debtors stay, I think, to laugh at her.   Enter Sarpego. Sar. 
Now deafness seize me. I disclaim my hearing. I defy my auditual part. I renounce mine ears. Mistress Pyannet, a desperate Palsy is on thy lips, and an everlasting Fever on thy Tongue?  Cra. 

What raging Rout hath rent thy rest;  
What Scold hath scutched thy sconce:   Sar. 

I'll breathe it to thy bolder breast,  
That askest me for the nonce.   
You understand or know, that here hath been a Feast made, to take up a ponderous difference between Master Sneakup your Father in Law, and yourself Mr. crazy; and between most of your Creditors and Debtors. Food hath been eaten; Wine drunk; Talk past; Breath spent; Labour lost: For why? Mistress Pyannet your Mother in Law, Mr. Sneakup's Wife (though she will be called by none but her own name) that woman of an eternal Tongue; that Creature of an everlasting noise; whose perpetual talk is able to deafen a Miller; whose discourse is more tedious than a justice's Charge; She, that will outscold ten carted Bawds, even when she is sober; and out-chat fifteen Midwives, though fourteen of them be half drunk: this she-thing hath burst all. Demosthenes himself would give her over. Therefore hopeless Sarpego is silent.  Enter Pyannet, Sneakup, Sir Andrew Ticket, Rufflit, La. Ticket, Josina, Linsy-Wolsy. Py. 
O, are you here Sir! You have spun a fair thread. Here's much ado, and little help. We can make bolt nor shaft, find neither head nor foot in your business. My daughter and I may both curse the time, that ever we saw the eyes of thee.  Cra. 
Sir, you have the civil virtue of Patience in you. Dear Sir hear me.  Py. 
He says he hears thee, and is ashamed to see thee. Hast not undone our Daughter? spent her Portion; deceived our hopes; wasted thy fortunes; undone thy credit; proved Bankrupt?  Cra. 
All was but my kind heart in trusting, in trusting, Father.  Pi. 
Kind heart! What should Citizens do with kind hearts; or trusting in any thing but God, and ready money?  Cra. 
What would you, dear Father, that I should do now?  Py. 
Marry depart in peace Sir. Vanish in silence Sir. I'll take my Daughter home Sir. She shall not beg with you Sir. No marry shalt thou not; no, 'deed Duck shalt thou not.  Cra. 
Be yet but pleased to answer me, good Sir. May not an honest man—  Py. 
Honest man! Who the Devil wished thee to be an honest man? Here's my worshipful Husband, Mr. Sneakup, that from a Grazier is come to be a Justice of Peace: And, what, as an honest man? He grew to be able to give nine hundred pound with my daughter; and, what, by honesty? Mr. Sneakup and I are come up to live i'th' City, and here we have lain these three years; and what? for honesty? Honesty! What should the City do with honesty; when 'tis enough to undo a whole Corporation? Why are your Wares gummed; your Shops dark; your Prizes writ in strange Characters? what, for honesty? Honesty? why is hard wax called Merchants wax; and is said seldom or never to be ripped off, but it plucks the skin of a Lordship with it? what! for honesty? Now (mortified my Concupiscence!) Dost thou think, that our Neighbour, Master linsey-wolsey here, from the son of a tripewife, and a Rope-maker, could aspire to be an Alderman's Deputy; to be Worshipful Mr. linsey-wolsey; Venerable Mr. linsey-wolsey; to wear Satin sleeves, & whip Beggars? And, what? By honesty? Have we bought an Office, here, for our towardly and gracious son and heir here, young Mr. Sneakup—  Tob. 
Yes forsooth Mother.  Py. 
And made him a Courtier, in hope of his honesty? Nay, (once for all) Did we marry our Daughter, here, to thee; racked our Purses to pay Portion; left Country housekeeping to save charges, in hope either of thine, or her honesty? No, we looked, that thy Warehouse should have eaten up Castles, and that for thy narrow Walk in a jeweller's shop, a whole Country should not have sufficed thee.  Cra. 
If my uncunning Disposition be my only vice, than Father—  Py. 
Nay, and thou hast been married three years to my Daughter, and haste not got her with Child yet! How dost answer that? For a woman to be married to a fruitful Fool, there is some bearing with him yet. (I know it by myself) but a dry barren Fool! How dost thou satisfy that?  Cra. 
It may be defect in your Daughter, as probable as in me.  Py. 
O impudent varlet! Defect in my Daughter? O horrible indignity! Defect in my Daughter? Nay, 'tis well known, before ever thou sawest her, there was no defect in my Daughter.  Cra. 
Well: If to be honest, be to be a fool, my utmost Ambition is a Coxcomb. Sir, I crave your farewell.  Py. 
Marry Sir, and have it with all his heart. My Husband is a man of few words, and hath committed his tongue to me: And I hope I shall use it to his Worship. Fare you well Sir.  Tic. 
Thanks for your cheer and full bounty of Entertainment, good Mr. Sneakup.  Py. 
He rather thanks you for your patience, and kind visitation, good Sir Andrew Ticket. Yes indeed forsooth does he.  La. Tic. 
I take my leave Sir, too.  Sneak. 
Good madam—  Py. 
ud's so! there's a trick! you must talk, must you? And your Wife in presence, must you? As if I could not have said, good madam. Good madam! Do you see how it becomes you?  La. Tic. 
Good Mistress Sneakup.  Py. 
Good madam, I beseech your Ladyship to excuse our deficiency of Entertainment. Though our power be not to our wish, yet we wish that our Power were to your Worth, which merits better service—  La. Tic. 
Pardon me.  Py. 
Then our rudeness—  La. Tic. 
You wrong yourself.  Py. 
Can tender, or possibly express by—  La. Tic. 
I beseech you forsooth—  Py. 
Our best labour, or utmost devoir. Yes I protest sweet madam. I beseech you, as you pass by in Coach sometimes, vouchsafe to see me; and, if I come to Court, I will presume to visit your Ladyship, and your worthy Knight, Good Sir Andrew! And I pray you madam, how does your monkey, your Parrot, and Parraquitoes? I pray commend me to 'em, and to all your little ones. Fare you well, sweet Creature.  Exit. Ruff. 
we'll leave you to take private farewell of your Wife, Mr. Crazy.  Tob. 
we'll meet you at your Horse, brother.  Exeunt omnes, praeter Crasy, Josina. Jos. 
Loved, my dear heart, my sweetest, my very being, will you needs take your journey? I shall fall before your return into a Consumption. If you die but conceive what your departure will bring upon me, I know (my sweet) nay I do know— but go your ways; strike my finger into mine eye: 'Tis not the first true tear a married woman has shed.  Cra. 
Why you hear the noise of that woman of Sound, your Mother. I must travel down, or not keep up. Yet—  Jos. 
Nay, go I beseech you; you shall never say, I undid you. Go I pray: But never look to see me my own woman again. How long will you stay forth?  Cra. 
A fortnight at the least; and a month at the most.  Jos. 
Well, a fortnight at the least. Never woman took a more heavy departure. Kiss me. Farewell. Kiss me again. I pray does your Horse amble, or trot? Do not ride post as you come home, I pray. Kiss me once more. Farewell.  Exit Cra. 
Hay hoe! How I do gape.  Enter Bridget, Jeremy. Bri. 
What's o'clock Bridget.  Jos. 
Past three forsooth.  Jos. 
'tis past sleeping time then, Bridget.  Bri. 
Nothing is passed to those, that have a mind and means.  Jos. 

That's true and tried. Go lay my Pillow Bridget. Exit Brid.  
Lord, what a thing a woman is in her husband's absence!  
Wast thou ever in love, Jeremy?   Jer. 
Who I forsooth? No forsooth.  Jos. 
I forsooth, and no forsooth? than I perceive you are forsooth. But I advise you to take head, how you level your Affection towards me: I am your Mistress; And I hope you never heard of any Apprentice was so bold with his Mistress.  Jer. 
No indeed forsooth. I should be sorry there should be any such.  Jos. 
Nay, be not sorry neither Jeremy. Is thy Master gone? Look. A pretty youth, this same Jeremy! And is come of a good Race. I have heard my Mother say, his Father was a Ferreter—  Enter Jeremy. Jer. 
He is gone forsooth.  Jos. 
Come hither Jeremy. Dost thou see this Handkerchief?  Jer. 
Yes forsooth.  Jos. 
I vowed this Handkerchief should never touch anybody's face, but such a one, as I would entreat to lie with me.  Jer. 
Indeed forsooth!  Jos. 
Come hither Jeremy. There's a spot o'thy Cheek, let me wipe it off.  Jer. 
O Lord forsooth. I'll go wash it.  Exit Jos. Jos. 
Heaven made this Boy of a very honest Appetite, sober Ignorance, and modest Understanding. My old Grandmothers Latin is verified upon him; Ars non habet Inimicum praeter Ignorantem. Ignorance is woman's greatest Enemy. Who's within? Bridget.  Enter Bridget. Bri. 
Here forsooth.  Jos. 
Go your ways to Mistress parmesan, the cheesemongers Wife in old fish-street, and commend me to her; and entreat her to pray Mistress Collifloore the Herbwoman in the Old Change, that she will desire Mistress Piccadell in Bowlane, in any hand to beseech the good old dry Nurse mother, Et cetera, she knows where, to provide me an honest, handsome, secret young man; that can write, and read written hand. Take your errand with you; that can write and read written hand.  Bri. 
I warrant you forsooth.  Exit. Jos. 
So, now will I meditate, take a nap, and dream out a few fancies.    

ACT I.  

Seen II.  Enter Crasy, booted. Ticket, Rufflit, Tobias Sarpego, Linsey-wolsey: Tic. 
we take our leaves Mr. crazy, and wish good Journey to you.  Ruff. 
Farewell good Mr. crazy.  Tob. 
Adieu Brother.  Sar. 
Iterum iterumque vale.  Lin. 
Heartily good-bye, good Mr. crazy.  Cra. 
Nay but Gentlemen: A little of your patience you all know your own Debts, and my almost impudent necessities, satisfy me, that I may discharge others. Will you suffer me to sink under my Freeness? shall my goodness, and ready Piety undo me? Sir Andrew Ticket, you are a professed Courtier, and should have a tender sense of honour. This is your day of payment for two hundred pound.  Tic. 
Blood of Bacchus, 'tis true, 'tis my day, what then? Dost take me for a Citizen, that thou thinkest I'll keep my day? No, thou'dst find that I am a Courtier, let my day keep me and 'twill. But dost hear? Come to the Court. I will not say what I will do for thee. But come to the Court. I owe the two hundred pounds: I'll not deny't, if thou ask seven years hence for't, farewell. I say no more, but come to the Court, and see if I will know thee.  Cra. 
O, Sir, now you are in favour, you will know nobody.  Tic. 
True: 'tis just. Why should we, when we are in favour know anybody; when, if we be in disgrace, nobody will know us? Farewell honest Tradesman.  Exit. Sar. 
That is Synonima for a fool. An ironical Epithet, upon my Facundity.  Cra. 
O Master Sarpego! I know you will satisfy your own driblet of ten pound, I lent you out of my Purse.  Sar. 
Diogenes Laertius on a certain time, demanding of Cornelius Tacitus an Areopagit of Syracusa; what was the most Commodious and expeditest method to kill the Itch, answered—  Cra. 
Answer me my moneys I beseech you.  Sar. 
Peremptorily, Careo Supinis; I want money. I confess, some driblets are in the Debet. But, methinks , that you being a Man of Wit, Brain, Forecast and Forehead, should not be so easy, (I will not say foolish, for that were a figure) as to lend a Philosopher money, that cries, when he is naked, Omnîa mea mecum porto. Well Sir, I shall ever live to wish, that your own lantern may be your direction; and that, wherever you travel, the Cornu copia of Abundance may accompany you. Yes sure shall I. Vive valeque.  Exit. Tob. 
Why look you Brother, It was thought, that I had a tender Pericranion; or, in direct Phrase, that I was an unthrifty fool. Signior no: you shall now find, that I cannot only keep mine own, but other men's. It is rightly said, He that is poor in Appetite, may quickly be rich in Purse. Desire little; covet little; no not your own: And you shall have enough.  Cra. 
Enough?  Tob. 
Yes Brother, little enough. I confess I am your Debtor for the loan of some hundred Marks. Now you have need: who has not? you have need to have it. I have need to pay it. Here's need of all hands. But Brother, you shall be no looser by me. Purchase Wit; Get wit (look you) wit. And Brother, if you come to the Court, now my Mother and my Father have bought me an Office there, so you will bring my Sister with you, I will make the best show of you that I can. It may chance to set you up again, Brother; 'tis many an honest man's fortune, to rise by a good Wife. Farewell sweet Brother. Prithee grow rich again; and wear good Clothes, that we may keep our Acquaintance still. Farewell, dear Brother. Exit.  Cra. 
Mr. Rufflit—  Ruff. 
What, does thy fist gape for money from me?  Cra. 
I hope it is not the fashion, for a Gallant of fashion, to break for so small a Portion as the sum of an hundred Angels.  Ruff. 
For a Gallant of fashion to break, for a Gallant of fashion? Dost thou know what a Gallant of fashion is? I'll tell thee. It is a thing that but once in three Months has money in his Purse; A creature made up of Promise and Protestation: A thing that fowls other men's Napkins: towseth other Men's Sheets, flatters all he fears, contemns all he needs not, starves all that serve him, and undoes all that trust him. Dost ask me money, as I am a Gallant of fashion, I do thee Courtesy, I beat thee not.  Cra. 
I lent it you on your single word.  Ruff. 
'tis pity but thou shouldest lose thy Freedom for it: you Tradesmen have a good Order in your City, Not to lend a Gentleman money without a Citizen bound with him: But you forsooth scorn Orders! By this light, 'tis pity thou losest not thy Freedom for it. Well, when I am flush, thou shalt feel from me, Farewell. Prithee learn to have some wit. A handsome straight young fellow, grown into a pretty Bear, with a proper bodied Woman to his Wife, and cannot bear a Brain! Farewell. Dost hear? Be ruled by me, Get money, do, Get money and keep it; wouldst thrive? Be rather a knave than a Fool. How much dost say I owe thee?  Cra. 
Fifty pound.  Ruff. 
Thou art in my Debt. I have given the Counsel worth threescore, Dog-cheap, well I'll rent the odd money.  Exit. Lin. 
Strange mad fellows these same, Mr. Crazy, methinks to deal withal.  Cra. 
You are right Mr. linsey-wolsey! I would my Genius had directed me, to deal always with such honest neighbourly men as yourself. I hope you will not deny me a Courtesy.  Lins. 
Not I, I protest, what is it?  Cra. 
You took once a Jewel of me, which you sold for thirty pound, for which I have your Bond for sixty, at your day of marriage. If you will now, because I want present money, give me but twenty pound, I'll acquit you.  Lin. 
My good friend Mr. Crazy, I have no tricks and Jerks to come over you, as the witty Gentleman had ere while: But I know a plain bargain is a plain bargain: and wit is never good till it be bought. If twenty pound will pleasure you, upon good security I will procure it you. A hundred if you please, do you mark Mr. Crazy? On good security. Otherwise you must pardon me, Mr. Crazy. I am a poor Tradesman Mr. Crazy, keep both a Linen and a Woollen draper's shop, Mr. Crazy, according to my name, Mr. Crazy, and would be loath to lend my money, Mr. Crazy, to be laughed at among my Neighbours, Mr. Crazy, as you are Mr. Crazy. And so fare you well, Mr. Crazy.  Exit. Cra. 

Is this the end of unsuspicious Freeness?  
Are open hands of Cheerful Piety,  
A helpful bounty, and most easy Goodness,  
Rewarded thus?  
Is, to be honest, termed to be a fool?  
Respect it Heaven. Bear up still merry heart.  
Droop not: But scorn the world's unjust despising.  
Who through Goodness sinks, his falls his Rising.   Enter Jeremy. 
O Master, Master, upon my knowledge, my Mistress is forced since your departure to be  Cra. 
What Jeremy?  Ier. 
Honest Sir. Get up your Debts as fast as you can abroad: For on my understanding (which great jove knows is but little) she will take up more than your due at home easily.  Cra. 
Boy. Didst never observe at the Court gate, that the Lord was no sooner off from his Horseback but the Lackey got up into the Saddle and rode home?  Jer. 
Yes Sir, 'tis common.  Cra. 
I scorn not my Betters Fortune. And what is not my sin, shall never be my shame.  Jer. 
Introth I was fain to make myself an Ass, or else I had been tempted to have been a knave.  Cra. 
Boy, thou art now my Prentice. From hence be free. Poverty shall serve itself. Yet do one thing for me.  Jer. 
If it be in the power of my poor Sconce.  Car. 
If ever it be in thy possible ability, wrong all Men, use thy wit, to abuse all things, that have but sense of wrong: For without mercy, all men have injured thy mistrustless Master, Milked my thoughts from my heart, and money from my Purse, and, last, laughed at my Credulity. Cheat, chosen, live by thy Wits: 'tis most manly, therefore most noble. Horses get their living by their Backs, Oxen by their necks, Swine and Women by their Flesh, Only man by his Brain. In brief be a knave and prosper: For honesty has beggared me.  Ier. 
Farewell Master. And if I put tricks upon some of them, let the end of the Comedy demonstrate.  Exit. Cra. 
I am resolved I will revenge. I never provoked my brain yet. But now if I clap not fire in the tails of some of these Samsons Foxes— seems my defect of Fortune want of wit? Noah.  

The sense of our slight sports confessed shall have,  
That any may be rich, will be a knave.     

ACT. II.  

Scene I.  Sarpego, Tobias. A Purse Sar. 
EGregious and most great of Expectation, my right dignified and truly Ciceronian Pupil, now that I have brought you into the Amoene fields with my ready thankfulness for the loan of this ten pound, I commit you to the grace of Court.  Tob. 
I shall expect that money shortly. Care to send it; For I purchased my place at a racked recompense.  Sar. 
Your Sarpego is no slippery Companion. You know I am to marry, and this money shall provide me Compliments.  Sis bonus o faelixque tuis. I pede fausto. Exit Tob. Enter Crasy like a lame Soldier. Cra. 
Beloved of Phoebus, Minion of the Muses, dear Water Bayley of Helicon, let it not be distasteful to thy Divine ears, to receive the humble Petition of a poor Creature, made miserable by the policy of Providence. That thy rare and absolute munificence might supply what fortune had left defective: I kiss thy learned toes.  Sar. 
I tell thee, by the Axioms of the Peripatetical Aristotle, thou art a Monster. My reward shall be therefore like thyself, monstrously lame. This is a figure in Elocution called Apoxegesis.  Cra. 
I am not fed with Figures Sir.  Sar. 
You are an idle vagabond, and lie in wait for the blood of the learned. Labour, and live.  Cra. 
Right eloquent and well-phrased Sir, my education has been liberal. I sometimes fed my flock on horned Parnassus: But my wants forced me to my Sword.  He shows his blade half way. Sar. 
You did peradventure sip on the top of Science, Primoribus labijs, or so, but did not convert it in Succum & sanguinem.  Cra. 
That I may ever remain a true man— Extend.  He draws. 
The Sun, Moon and the seven Planets are my invoked witnesses, I should be grieved, that necessity should make me grow violent on so adored, adorned Grammatical Disciplinary— Be gracious in Contribution— Sir—  Sar. 
I will give thee an infinite treasure. Sis integer vitae, scelerisque purus. Vale poor Rogue.  Cra. 
Sir, this Sword can bite— But, I know you had rather give it freely out of your own Proclivity.  Sar. 
Yes I protest, as I am Erudite. Here dreadful Mavortian, the poor price of a Dinner.  Car. 
If I might in modesty importune the poor price of a Supper too.  Sar. 
I do speak it in the Optative Mood, I do wish it lay in the model of my Fortune to give harbour to your shaken state, yet receive this with appeased clutch.  Cra. 
If I might not seem audacious even to impudence, I poor Freshman in Literature, would implore of your well-salted, & best seasoned virtue, some larger allowance to supply my defects of Raiment, Books, and other necessaries: which magnificence shall ever entitle you, my most bounteous Macaenas. Be induced to it Sir.  Flourish Sword over him. Sar: 
Yes, yes, yes, that you may know how dear you are to me; Know this is more than usual largesse— for non omnibus dormio— There's a Figure too.  Cra. 
O yes Sir, I understand this Figure too very well. Now dear Maecenas, let me implore a Purse to enclose these Moneys in— Nay if you impart not with a cheerful forehead, Sir  Sword again. Sar. 
Vae misero mihi! sweet Purse adieu. Iterum iterumque vale.  Cra. 
May you be importuned to do it, Sir.  Sword. Sar. 
You shall have it instantly. I will only deprome, or take out a little stuffing first.  Cra. 
'tis no matter. As it is, As it is, good Sir, as it is. I'll accept it as it is. Most fragrant-phrased Master, suffer thyself to be entreated. Do—  Sword. Sar. 
You have most powerfully persuaded: Take it.  Cra. 
Most exorbitantly bounteous Maecenas, you have given me all this, have you not?  Sar. 
Yes, yes, and you have taken all that, have you not?  Cra. 
Yes, yes, but as your gift. jove bless thy brows, and make clear thy Phisnomy. Vale. Your learned Worship stinks.  Sar. 
Now Barbarism, Incongruity, and false Orthography shame thee; The curse of Priscian take thee. All the parts of speech defy thee. All the Interjections of sorrow, as Heu hei, of Shunning, as Apage; of Disdaining, as Hem vah; of Scorning, as Hui; of Exclaiming, as Proh Deum atque hominum fidem take thee. My dear Pupils lendings hast thou lewdly licked away: And sorrowful Sarpego is licked dry. There's a figure left yet! But o thou Castalion Traitor, Pickpurse of Parnassus, and Hangman of Helicon: Dives thirst in thy Throat; Ixion's wheel on thy back; Tantalus' hunger in thy guts; and Sisyphus' stone in thy Bladder.  Crasie falls back. Exit. Cra. 
O fearful curse! Well; I hay given my first pinch, and a little scratched my Goat-bearded Grammarian, that Broke jests on my uncunning easiness. But he with the rest shall feel, that modest Simplicity is not always a defect of wit, but will: What my willing honesty hath seemed to lose, my affected deceits shall recover. I'll rid 'em one after another, like Guts, till they shall stink worse than jews.  

And they shall find with most ashamed eyes,  
The honest Breast lives only rich and wise.   Exit.   

ACT. II.  

Scene 2.  Josina, Bridget. JOs. 
Bridget.  Bri. 
Here forsooth.  Jos. 
Bridget, I say.  Bri. 
Here, Lady.  Jos. 

That's comfortably spoken! Nay blush not:  
We women can never have too much given us. And  
Madame, Josina would sound well.   Bri. 
Yes indeed, madam Josina Crazy.  Jos. 
No; not Crazy; hang Crazy: Crazy is my husband's name. I wonder why Women must be called by their husband's names, I.  Bri. 
O, they must forsooth.  Ios. 
And why not men by their Wives?  Bri. 
Marry forsooth, because that Men, when they marry, become but half men: And the other half goes to their Wives. And therefore she is called Woman; where before she was called but Maid.  Ios. 
Is a married Man but half a Man? what is his other half then?  Bri. 
Truly, oftentimes, Beast. Which part the wife gives to boot, in exchange of her name. One knocks.  Ios. 
Hark, somebody knocks; go see. What should anybody knock at my Garden door for? I do not use to be visited in my Garden.  Bri. 
Yonder's a Gentleman craves admittance to converse with you.  Ios. 
I'll converse with no Gentleman. What have I to do with Gentlemen?  Bri. 
A fair-spoken, comely, modest Gentleman he is.  Ios. 
Is he so? I'll speak with no modest Gentleman. You were best be his Bawd. But are you sure he is a true Gentleman? does he wear clean Linen, and lack Money?  Bri. 
Here he comes forsooth.  Enter Crasy, like a Physician. Ios. 
He is very confident, and forward, methinks.  Cra. 
Exquisite; very Elixir of Beauty, vouchsafe to receive the tender of my Faith to you; which I protest is zealously devoted to your particular service.  Ios. 
You may speak louder Sir: for I assure you, my Maid is very thick of hearing, and exceeding weak sighted.  Cra. 
Then, Lady, let it be spoken in bold phrase, I love you.  Ios. 
I thank you Sir. How should I style you, pray?  Cra. 
My name is Pulse-feel: A poor Doctor of Physic, that wears three-pile velvet in his Cap; has paid a quarter's rent of his house aforehand; and as meanly as he stands here, was made Doctor beyond the Seas. I vow (as I am right Worshipful) the taking of my Degree cost me twelve French crowns, and five and thirty pound of salt Butter in upper Germany. I can make your beauty, and preserve it; Rectify your Body, and maintain it; perfume your skin; tinct your hair; enliven your Eye; Heighten your Appetite. As for jellies, Dentifrices, Diets, Mineral fucuses, Pomatums, Fumes, Italian Masks to sleep in, either to moisten, or dry the Superficies of your face; paugh, Galen was a Goose, and Paracelsus a Patch to Doctor Pulse-feel. Make me then happy, dear sweeting, in your private favours: The which I vow with as much secrecy, constancy and Resolution, to preserve, as you, with Bounty, sweetness and Freeness shall impart.  Jos. 
I protest you speak very far within me; I respect you most affectionately.  Cra. 
Then I'll attend you at your Chamber: where the best pleasure, youth, Cupid can minister shall entertain you.  Ios. 
Entertain me with pleasure? what pleasure I pray you?  Cra. 
Nothing but kiss you Lady, and so forth.  Ios. 
Well, for kissing and so forth, I care not; But look for no dishonesty at my hands, I charge you.  Cra. 
I will be provident.  Ios. 
And honest, I beseech you: And secret, and resolute, I advise you.  Cra. 
Good.  Ios. 
And very chaste I command you. But a kiss, and so forth.  Cra. 
I understand you. This be my pledge of faith.  Kiss. Ios. 
And this of mine.— The thought of me rest with you. And hear you Doctor; I prithee procure me some young Fellow, that can write: For I am so troubled with Letters, that I neither read nor answer—  Cra. 
Rely upon me. I can fit you rarely. I know a well qualified fellow, that danceth rarely, plays on divers Instruments, and withal is close.  Ios. 
I marry, Close! Pray let me have him. Kiss and adieu.  Exit. Cra. 
I will maintain it. He only, that knows it, permits, and procures it, is truly a Cuckold. Some fellow would be divorced now. Crazy, speak; wilt be divorced? why, what and I were? why then thou art an Ass, Crazy. Why Sir? why Sir! why prithee tell me, what would thy Divorce hurt her? It would but give her more liberty. she should have bounteous Customers; Gallants, that would hoist her tires, bestow deep on her. And she should be paid for't. You speak somewhat to the matter Sir. Nay Crazy, believe it, though she be not a very modest woman for a Wife, thou mayst force her to be a reasonable private wench for a Whore. Say you so? by’r lady, and I'll take your Counsel. 'Tis a pretty Drab. I know not where to compass such another? troth Sir, I'll follow your advice.  

And, if my hopes prove not extremely ill,  
I'll keep her flesh chaste, though against her will.   Enter Crack singing. Crac. 

He took her by the middle so small  
And laid her on the Plain:  
And when he had his will on her,  
He took her up again.   

And what was she then the worse for wearing?  
Can you tell Mr. Doctor?   Cras. 
What art thou?  Crac: 
One Sir (I dare tell you in private) that can conduct you to a more lovely Creature, than her you last courted.  Cras. 
A young Pimp, a very sucking-pig Pimp! What an Age is this, when children play at such great game! So young, so forward!  Crac. Sings. 

The young and the old must too't, must too't,  
The young and the old must to it;  
The young ones will learn to do't, to do't,  
And the Old forget not to do it.   Cras. 
This Infant piece of Impudence amazes me. Prithee what art thou? or whom dost thou serve, or broke for.  Crac. 
As delicate a piece of Woman-flesh as ever Mortal laid lip to. O she is all Venus! And, to come close to you, she wants a Physician. You are one I take it: I am a fool else.  Cras. 
I am catched? This habit will betray me. What is she, I say.  Crac. Sings. 

O she is, she is a matchless piece,  
Though all the world may woo her;  
Nor golden shower, nor golden fleece,  
Is price enough to do her.   Cras. 
For what wants she a Physician?  Crac. 
For what you please, when you come to her. Sir, upon my life, she's free from any Disease, but the Counterfeits. Will you know all Sir? she wants a wise man's counsel to assist her in getting a Husband. I take hold of you for that wise man, she relies upon my Election. Will you go Sir? 'tis in an exceeding civil house; a precise one, indeed. Know you not Mr. Linsey Woolsey?  Cras. 
Not at his house?  Crac. 
Pardon me Sir. At his very house. All the wise wenches i'the Town will thwack to such Sanctuaries, when the times are troublesome, and Troopers trace the streets in terror.  Cras. 
Prithee, what call'st thy Mistress?  Crac. 
There she lies Sir, by the name of Mistress Tryman; a rich young Cornish Widow; though she was borne in Clerkenwell; and was never half a day's Journey from Bride well in her life. Her Father was a Pin-maker— Sings.  

Along along, where the Gallants throng  
By twenties, away the Widow to carry:  
But let them tarry: For she will carry  
Twenty, before that one she will Marry.   
Will you along Sir?  Cras. 

'tis but a weak engagement: yet I'll go;  
Needless are fears, where Fortunes are so low.   Exeunt.   

ACT II.  

Scene II.  Enter Ticket and Rufflit. Tic. 
A Widow! what is she? or of whence?  Ruff. 
A lusty young wench, they say: A Cornish Girl; able to wrestle down stronger Chines than any of ours.  Tic. 
But how is she pursed, Jack? Is she strong that way?  Ruff. 
Pretty well for a younger Brother; worth 7 or 8 thousand pound.  Tic. 
How man!  Ruff. 
You are a married man, and cannot Rival me; I would not else be so open to you.  Tic. 
I swear I'll help thee all I can. How didst find her out?  Ruff. 
I have intelligence, that never fails me, she came to town neither but very lately; and lodged at Mr. Wolsey's.  Tic. 
Who, linsey-wolsey, the Hermaphroditical Draper! That's a precious Nott-headed Rascal. he'll go near to aim at her himself.  Ruff. 
Like enough. He may aim at her: But she will be hit by none but a Gentleman, that I hear too Oh she has a fierce Ambition to a Ladyship, though her late Husband was a Tanner.  Tic. 
A Tanner, well Jack, cake heed how thou ventur'st on her to make her a Gentlewoman: She will kill thee at her husband's occupation before thou wile be able to make her Hide gentle. Thou wilt find a tough piece of Curriers work on her. Look who here is.  Enter Toby, and Linsey wolsey. Lin. 
Truly Mr. Toby Sneakup, methinks I find an alteration in myself already.  Tob. 
Nay, I told you; would you but give your Mind to it, you would be a Gentleman quickly.  Tic. 
How's this? let's stand aside a little.  Ruff. 
Sure, he's about to turn himself into a Gentleman to win to the Widow!  Tic. 
And what a Tutor he has picked out to instruct him!  Lin. 
methinks I love the name of a Gentleman a great deal better than I did.  Tob. 
But could you find in your heart to lend a Gentleman a score of Angels, Mr. Wolsey, on his word?  Lin. 
Uhm— I is not gone so far upon me yet.  Tob. 
Oh, but it must though, I know it. A Citizen can never be a Gentleman, till he has lent all, or almost all his money to Gentlemen. What a while it was ere the rich joiner's son was a Gentleman? when I myself was a Gentleman first, my money did so burn in my Pockets, that it cost me all that ever I had, or could borrow, or steal from my Mother.  Lin. 
But Mr. Toby, a man may be a Country Gentleman, and keep his money, may he not?  Tob. 
You see Sir, This Widow is removed from the Country into the City, to avoid the multiplicity of Country Gentlemen that were here suitors. Nay you must be a City Gallant; or a Courtier.  Lin. 
I see no Courtiers, but are more apt to borrow, than to lend.  Tob. 
ay, those that were born, or bred Courtiers I grant you, But to come to't at your years—  Lin. 
I can the sooner learn. Your Courtier Sir, I pray.  Tob. 
I'll tell you in a brief character was taught me. Speak nothing that you mean, perform nothing that you promise, pay nothing that you owe, flatter all above you, scorn all beneath you, deprave all in private, praise all in public; keep no truth in your mouth, no faith in your heart; no health in your bones, no friendship in your mind, no modesty in your eyes, no Religion in your conscience; but especially, no Money in your Purse.  Lin. 
O that Article spoils all.  Tob. 
If you do, take heed of spending it on any thing but Panders, Punks, and Fiddlers; for that were most unfashionable.  Lin. 
I thank you Sir, for your Courtly and Gentlemanlike instructions, and wish you grace to follow them: I have seen too fearful an example lately in my neighbour crazy, whose steps I list not trace; nor lend my Money to be laughed at among my Neighbours. Fare you well Sir.—  Tob. 
Ha ha ha.  Ruff. 
Mr. wolsey! Well met. How does your fair Guest at home, Mrs. Tryman?  Ticket talks aside with Toby. Lin. 
How should he come to the knowledge of her? Some of these Gallants will snatch her up, if I prevent not speedily.  Ruff. 
Why speak you not Mr. wolsey? How does the Widow?  Lin. 
Truly not well Sir. Whether it be weariness of her journey, change of air, or diet, or what I know not; something has distempered her.  Ruff. 
Or Love, perhaps of you Mr. wolsey.  Lin. 
Me? Alas, I look like no such Gentleman.  Ruff. 
You may in a short time.  They two go aside. 
Hark hither Mr. wolsey.  Tic. 
We overheard you man: And I guest as much before.  Tob. 
'tis very true Sir, she is worth nine thousand pound: But marry she will not but a Gentleman: And I think I have beat him off o'th' condition, I have put him off o' that scent for ever, with a false character, Heaven and the Court forgive me.  Tic. 
Thou hast introth Boy: And on purpose to have her thyself, I perceive it.  Tob. 
He does not. He's an Ass.  Tic. 
Well, if I were a Bachelor, I should envy thy wit, and thy fortune. Is she very handsome?  Tob. 
So so: You shall see we'll make a shift with her.  Ruff. 
Mr. wolsey, I would you had her with all my heart; you shall not want my good word and best wishes.  Lin. 
Do you speak this in earnest Sir, or as you are a Courtier:  Ruff. 
In earnest I, and as I am a Gentleman.  Lin. 
Then in earnest, and as I am an honest man, I do not believe you. Mr. Toby Sneakup has told me what Gentlemen and Courtiers are, too lately.  Ruff. 
Mr. Sneakup. well met.  Tob. 
Good Mr. Rufflit.  Enter Crack singing. 

Now fair Maids lay down my Bed,  
And draw the Curtains round:  
Tell the World that I am dead,  
And who hath given the wound,  
Ah me poor Soul!  
Alack for love I die,  
Then to the Sexton hie,  
And cause the Bell to toll.   Crac. 
O here he is! Mr. wolsey, indeed my Master wolsey, if ever you will see my Mistress your Sweetheart alive, you must go home presently.  Lin. 
My Sweetheart!  Crac. 
I think she is; and that in death she will be so. I speak by what she says, and others think.  Tob. 
'tis the widow's Boy,  Lin. 
Is she sicker than she was.  Crac. 
O she is even speechless, and calls for you exceedingly. I fetched a Doctor to her, and he can do her no good. Master Sarpego has made her Will and all.  Lin. 
Has she given me any thing?  Crac. 
Quickly go and see Sir, you will come too late else, I am going to get the Bell to toll for her.  Lin. 
Fare ye well Gentlemen.  Tob. 
Tic. Ruff. Nay, we'll along with you.  Crac. 
Sing.  Exeunt. 

Did never truer heart  
Out of the World depart,  
Or cause the bell to toll.   Exit.   

ACT. III.  

Scene I.  Enter in the Tryman, attended by Isabell, Jone, Crasy, with an urinal. Isa. 
LOok up Mistress.  
Jo. Take a good heart, the worst is past, fear not.  Try. 
Ah, ah, ah.  Isa. 
Reach the Bottle again of Doctor Stephen's water.  Cra. 
No no, apply more warm clothes to her stomach, there the matter lies which sends this distemperature into her brain. Be of good cheer Gentlewoman.  Try. 
Is Mr wolsey there?  Isa. 
Nothing but Mr. wolsey ever in her mouth.  Jo. 
Pray Sir, how do you like her? I am much afraid of her.  Cras. 
Let me see, tonight it will be full Moon. And she scape the turning of the next Tide, I will give her a gentle Vomit in the morning, that shall ease her stomach of this conflux of venomous humours, and make her able to sit a hunting Nag within this sennight.  Jo. 
A rare man sure. And, I warrant, well seen in a Woman.  Try. 
Uh, uh, uh, uh.  Cough and spit. Cras. 
Well said, spit out gently, strain not yourself too hard.  Try. 
Agh— fagh.  Cras. 
'tis very well done. La'you. Her colour begins to come. I'll lay all my skill to a mess of Tewksbury Mustard, she sneezes thrice within these three hours—  Enter linsey-wolsey. Lin. 
Good Sir want nothing, that your skill shall approve necessary in this time of need. Good Wives and kind Neighbours, I thank you for your cares.  Try. 
Is Mr. wolsey there?  Isa. 
She does nothing but call for you Sir, pray speak to her.  Try. 
Where's Mr. wolsey.  Lin. 
Here Lady. How do you?  Try. 
Then I am even well methinks— agh— agh—  Lin. 
she's very far gone I fear, how do you find her disease Sir?  Cras. 
Dangerous enough Sir. For she is sicker in mind then in body. For I find most plainly the effects of a deep melancholy, fall'n through her distemperature of passion upon her Liver; much disordering, and withal wasting the vitals, leaving scarce matter for Physic to work on. So that her mind receiving the first hurt, must receive the first cure.  Try. 
Agh agh ah— pagh fagh—  Cough up in a Basin Cras. 
So so: Strain not yourself too hard. No hurt; so so.  
Here's melancholy and choler both in plenty.  Jo. 
He speaks with great reason, methinks, and to the purpose, I would I understood him.  Cras. 
Do you not know, Sir, any that has offended her by open injury, or unkindness?  Lin. 
Alas Sir, no such thing could happen since her coming hither.  Cras. 
Then, on my life, 'tis Love that afflicts her.  Try. 
Oh oh uh oh—  Cras. 
I have touched her to the quick. I have found her disease, and that you may prove the abler Doctor in this extremity.  Lin. 
Who I? Alas I believe no such matter.  Try. 
Mr. wolsey, Mr. wolsey.  Cras. 
Here he is Lady. Pray speak your mind to him. Must I pull you to her? Here he is. What do you say to him? Pray speak.  Try. 
Oh no, no no no—  Cras. 
She hath something troubles her that concerns only you. Pray take her by the hand, do as I entreat you. Lady we will go, and leave you in private awhile, if you please.  Try. 
Pray do. O but do not, pray do not.  Cras. 
Do you perceive nothing in this passion of hers?  
How does she feel your hand?  Lin. 
O, she does so quiddle it, shake it, and gripe it!  Cras. 
You are then the man Sir, the happy man. For she shall recover suddenly.  Lin. 
Who I? Alack a day.  Try. 
What will you have me die intestate. Is not my Will made, as I directed?  Io. 
Where are you Mr. Sarpego, with the Will.  Enter Sarpego, Ticket, Rufflit, Toby. Sar. 
Ad manum. Sweet Buds of Generosity, forbear you may Admirare, at the abundance here specified: But not find a Legacy bequeathed among you  A Will. Tic. 
We expect nothing.  Ruff. 
I only wish your health, Lady; and that it may, or might have been my happiness to sue to you for Love; as I do now to the highest power for Life.  Tob. 
Would I were married to her, as she is; and 'twere but for an hour, I cared not. Had my mother been but acquainted with her, before she fell sick, here had been a match!  Sar. 
O Dij immortales! A rich Widow shall have Suitors on her Deathbed.  Try. 
Good Sir, It is too late to speak of these things. I only crave and wish your prayers in your absence: This place can yield no pleasure to you I know. Mr. Wolsey, pray your hand again: I could be even content to live methinks, if I had but such a man as you to my Huh, uh, uh, uh.—  To Ruff. She coughs. Cras. 
By your leave. Pray by your leave. Help Women. Bear up her Body a little. Bow it forwards. So, speak to her, Sr. Good Lady drink of this Cordial.  She drinks. Lin. 
How do you now forsooth?  Cras. 
What now she is drinking— Now speak Sir, you or no man must do her good.  Lin. 
How do you forsooth?  Cras. 
Well said Sir, speak cheerfully to her.  Lin. 
How d'ee do? how d'ee do, Mistress Tryman How is't now, ha?  Tic. 
Very comfortably spoken!  Ruff. 
ay, was it not?  Lin. 
Alas she cannot speak. I'll call my Neighbour Mistress Sneakup. If anybody can make her speak, 'tis she.  Tob. 
I'll call my Mother for you. She will make her speak, if she have but a word left in her belly— Mass here she comes.  Enter Pyannet and josina. Py. 
How comes it Mr. Wolsey, that you have a Gentlewoman sick in your house, and not send for me? Let me feel her hand. Alas she is shrewdly distempered. When had she a stool Sir, Prithee Daughter step home to my Closet, and bring the Vial of— my own Water, which stands next to my blue Velvet Cabinet.  Ios. 
That's my Doctor was with me today  Exit. Py. 
she's a young Gentlewoman; may have many Children yet, let me note her eyes: I find nothing there. When did you see her water Mr. Doctor?  Cras. 
What Devil sent this fury among us?  Py. 
In troth I beshrew you, Mr. Wolsey, you sent not for me, but I hope I come not too late. Pluck up a Women's heart, you shall find a good Neighbour of me.  Try. 
I will thank you in my Will. I shall not live to thank you otherwise.  Py. 
Alas talk not of your will. You shall have time enough to think of that many years hence.  Cras. 
I tell her so, Lady, yet she calls for it still.  Try. 
Pray let me see it, that I may sign it. Uh Uh—  Py. 
Lord how my Daughter stays. Good Sir Andrew Ticket! worthy Mr. Rufflit! My Son Tobias is highly honoured in your noble Acquaintance, and Courtly conversation.  Tic. 
We rather hold ourselves dignified, in being his endeared Companions.  Tob. 
I assure you Mother, we are the three of the Court.  Py. 
I most entirely thank you for him. And I do beseech you make yourselves no strangers to my poor house. we are alone; can give but light entertainment, my Daughter and I; since my Son Crasy's misfortune drove him from us—  Enter josina with a Vial. 
O welcome Daughter— I beseech you noble Sirs estrange not yourselves to us, your Servants.  Cra. 
Pox o'your Compliment.  Py. 
Give me the Vial Daughter. Take up the Lady. Taste of this. It is a Composition of mine own distilling.  Try-drinks. Try. 
Uh, uh, uh, umh—  Py. 
Well done. Nay it will make you break wind, I tell you.  Ticket and Rufflit Court Iosina. Tic. 
By the service I owe you sweet Mistress, 'tis unfeigned. My Wife desires to see you.  Ruff. 
As I can best witness; And fears you enjoy not the liberty of a Woman, since your husband's departure. Your Brother having promised too, to conduct you to Court.  To. 
It is confessed, and I will do it.  Tic. 
Where the best entertainment a poor Lady's chamber can afford, shall expect you.  jos 
I shall embrace it.  Cras. 
'sfoot, 'tis time to part you— Mistress, I beseech your help, joined with your virtuous Mothers.  He pulls her aside. Ios. 
You forget the young man, that can Dance Write, and keep Counsel.  Cras. 
I forget you not Lady. But I wish you to beware of these Courtiers, till I tell you what they are:  Ruff. 
I'll be hanged if this Doctor be not of her smock Counsel.  Py. 
How is it now, good heart?  Try. 
Much enlightened, I thank Heaven and you. Now, pray, read Sir my Will.  Sar. 
In Dei nomine. Amen.  Tic. 
O let us hear the Will.  Sar. 
I jane Tryman of Knockers hole, in the County of Cornwall, Widow, Sick in Body, but whole in Mind, and of perfect memory, do make my last Will and Testament, in Manner and Form following.  Cras. 
As for the Manner and Form 'tis no matter. To the Legacies, briefly.  Sar. 
Hum hum. Imprimis, A Dole of Bread to be given to the Poor of this Parish— five pound.  Try. 
Stay. This I entreat of you Mr. Wolsey, that whether I live or die, this Dole may be given tomorrow. It was the Charge of my Mother to see it done; Saying, it was better to take the Prayers of the Poor with me, then leave them to be sent after.  Lin. 
It shall be done: and you, I hope, shall see it.  Sar. 
To Mr. Sarpego, the Writer hereof, A Mourning Gown, and forty pound, to Preach at the Funeral.  Lin. 
How! forty pound?  Sar. 
Di boni! No. 'tis forty shillings. Item to my Nephew, Sir Marmaduke Trevaugh an of St. Minever, one thousand pound in Gold. Item to my Nephew Mr. Francis Trepton, one thousand pound in Gold. Item to my Kinsman, Sir Stephen Leggleden, I do forgive two thousand pound, for which his Lands are Mortgaged to me. Item to his Daughter, my God-daughter jane Leggleden, five hundred pound in money; my best Basin and Ewer; two silver Flagon Pots, and three silver and gilt standing Cups. Item to the poor of the Parish of Knockers-hole, ten pound, and forty pound towards the reparation of their Church. Item to Mr. Linsey wolsey the Ring, which was my Wedding Ring, and fifty other Rings, with several stones in my Trunk, in his house, valued at two hundred and fifty pounds. Item to all his servants, and to the Women that attended me in my sickness, five pound a piece.  Jone. 
Now the Lord receive her to his mercy.  Isa 
My Legacy will save her life; for never anybody died yet, that bequeathed me any thing.  Sar. 
Item, to my Page Jeffery Crack forty pound. And all my other Servants ten pound a piece. Item to my Niece Barbara Tredrite five hundred pound; my second Basin and Ewer, a dozen of silver Dishes, and four dozen of silver Spoons. Lastly, all the rest of my Lands, Jewels, Plate, Money, Debts, Movables and unmovables, to my dear and loving Brother, Sir Gregory Flamsted, whom I make my full Executor. In cujus rei testimonium, etc. This is the brief of it.  Try. 
'tis well. Only add to it— Uh— A Gold Chain also in my Trunk to this virtuous Gentlewoman. And another Chain, that is there of Pearl, to her Daughter. To this learned Doctor twenty pound. And to the Gentlemen which have visited me, for them and their friends an hundred pound to be spent in a Banquet.  Sar. 
Hoc nihil refert. I must write all over again then.  Try. 
Do so then. And make your forty shillings five pound.  Sar. 
Gratias vel ingentes ago. It shall be done—  Exit. Try. 
Now Mr. wolsey, and your virtuous Neighbour here, I entreat, that when I have signed this Will, that you keep it till my Brother comes to Town. This Doctor shall direct you in all. And that he may be the better able so to do, I desire you all that I may a while be private with him.  Omnes. 
With all our hearts.  Exeunt omnes praeter Crasy, Tryman. Try. 
Are they all gone?  
Now Mr. Doctor, what think you of the sick Widow?  
Has she done her part hitherto?  Cras. 
Beyond my expectation! Better then I for a Doctor.  Try. 
You are right. And I am even the same for a Widow as you for a Doctor. Do not I know you? Yes good Mr. crazy. I dare trust you, because you must trust me. Therefore know, that I the rich Widow am no better, than a Lady that must live by what I bear about me. The vulgar translation you know, but let them speak their pleasure, I have no Lands, and since I am borne, must be kept, I may make the best of my own, and if one member maintain the whole body, what's that to any one?  Cras. 
I collected as much by your young Whiskin that brought me hither.  Try. 
It was by my direction that he did so. And, by my Instructions, he has had an Eye upon you in all your disguises ever since your pretended Journey out of Town. Nay startle not, nor muse at my acquaintance with you: I have had you in my purlieus, before you were a Freeman: And will hereafter give you certain tokens of it. In the mean time, if you comply with me, you can be no loofer by it. I am grown weary of my old course; and would feign, by wiser, do myself good, before Age or Diseases make it too late.  Cra. 
I will work close and friendly with thee. Therefore say, this rich Coxcomb is thine own. O here comes your Pigg-wiggen.  Try. 
He is of Counsel, and one of us. He is indeed my Brother, and has been one of the true blue Boys of the Hospital; one of the sweet singers to the City Funerals with a two penny loaf under his arm.  Crac. 
Well: He never sung to the wheel in Saint Bride's Nunnery yonder.  Try. 
Nay Jeff, be not angry; thou hast sung to the Organs I know, till fearing their downfall, thou betookst thyself into my more certain service. All friends, good Jeff.  Cras. 
Yes, yes, we must all agree, and be linked in Covenant together.  Crac. 
By Indenture Tripartite, an't please you, like Subtle, Doll, and Face.  Cras. 
Witty Jeff. I cannot see which can be spared from the rest, lest the whole trade break.  Crack sings. 

Then let us be friends, and most friendly agree.  
The Pimp and the Punk and the Doctor are three,  
That cannot but thrive, when united they be.  
The Pimp brings in custom, the Punk she gets treasure,  
Of which the Physician is sure of his measure,  
For work that she makes him in sale of her pleasure.  
For which, when she fails by diseases or pain,  
The Doctor new Vamps and upsets her again.   Cras. 
Thou art a brave Lad, and in the high way of preferment.  Crac. 
Not the high Holborn way, I hope Sir.  Cras. 
And for you Damsel, as I said before, say to yourself, the Match is yours.  Try. 
I mean to say, and know it shortly. Some three days hence all may be completed. Now draw the Curtains; and follow your affairs, while I put on my sick Face again. Uh, uh, uh.  They put in the Bed, and withdraw all. Exeunt.   

ACT. III.  

Scene II.  Enter Sarpego. Sar. 
NOw could I Accost that Catlinarian Traitor, that defeated me of my ten pound, I have a precogitated Oration should make him suspend himself. But Abiit, evasit, erupit. Or if the rich Widow would have died, there had been a supply. But she is nearer a Nuptial, than a Funeral: And hopeless Sarpego, that should wed, has not to furnish him to his intent, Vae mihi misero nec Aurum, nec Argent— tum! Here comes my Beatitude.  Enter Bridget. Bri. 
O, are you here Sir? I was to seek you. My old Mistress would speak with you instantly.  Sar. 
My Legitimate Spouse, when is our day of conjunction?  Bri. 
Our day of conjunction? marry faugh Goodman Fist. Our day of conjunction?  Sar. 
Did you not once vow you did love me?  Bri. 
Did not you once swear you had money?  Sar. 
Hic jacet, I am now but a dead man.  Enter Pyannet, Sneakup, Crasie— like a Court-Messenger. Py. 
O where's Mr. Sarpego? Fortunate Mr. Sarpego? Venerable Mr. Sarpego? O Sir, you are made. Never think under right worshipful. Imagine nothing beneath damask Gowns, Velvet Jackets, Satin Sleeves, Silk Nightcaps, two Pages and a foot-cloth.  Sar. 
The Son of Phoebus rectify your Brainpan.  Sne. 
Indeed, an't shall please your Worship, it is—  Py. 
It is! What is it? You will be speaking, will you? And your Wife in presence, will you? you show your bringing up. Master Sarpego, bless the time that ever you knew the Progeny of the Sneakups: my worshipful Son and Heir apparent hath preferred you to be the young Prince his Tutor. Here's Mr. holy-water, a Gentleman; of place, a Courtier; of Office, is sent for you.  Cras. 
Right fortunately-learned Sir. So passionately doth his Grace approve the Language, Literature, and 'haviour of your sometimes Pupil, Master Tobias Sneakup.  Sar. 
Umh.  Cras. 
That I was, with all expedition, commanded to entreat your instant Attendance.  Sar. 
Umh Umh—  Cras. 
'Tis even so Sir; You are like to possess a PRINCE's ear; you may be in place, where you may scorn your foes; countenance your friends; cherish virtue, control vice, and despise fortune: Yes sure shall you Sir. And (which I had almost forgot) your old Pupil entreats you to send him by me the ten pound he lent you: An odd ten pound, that he may be furnished with the more seemly Compliments to conduct you to his Grace.  Sar. 
Quid nunc?  Py. 
Whist Mr. Sarpego. Let not your poverty be read in your face. Here's ten pieces. Bear it as your own payment: You talk of ten pound for my Son, Sir.  Sar. 
O, an odd driblet. Here, Friend, I use not to carry Silver: Convey it in Gold.  Bri. 
I hope, dear Love, you will not forget your affection to me now.  Sar. 
Poor Maid, I will prefer thee to scratch my head; make my Bed; wash my Shirt, pick my toes, and evacuate my Chamberpot. I will instantly procure me attire, fitting my fortune, and attend the Grace of Court—  Exit. Bri. 
Now am I but a dead woman.  Cras. 
I am much grieved for't. It was your sons much labouring, that Mr. Crazy was sent for, to sell his Grace some Jewels: But since his fortunes are so sunk that he hides his head, I can but lament his loss.  Py. 
Shall I tell you Sir, (pray you husband stand aside;) My Son-in-Law Crazy is not now worth— his very wife. We hoped he would have proved a crafty Merchant, and he proved an honest man, a Beggar (if I chance to speak above your capacity, I pray tell me of it) And as I said, when I perceived he began to melt, and that every stranger abused him; ay, having some wit, fell too, and most cozened him myself. I looked for my daughter's good: And so betwixt us, found the trick to get, or steal from him two Jewels of good deep value, being indeed the main of his rest of Fortune. Now Sir, I come to you.  Cras. 
ay, now you come to the point.  Py. 
Right Sir: For there is no woman, though she use never so many bywords, but yet in the end she will come to the point. Now Sir, I having these Jewels, will send them by my husband. A poor easy weak man, as you see; but very obedient in truth—  Cras. 
By your husband.  Py. 
Yes, do you mark? By my husband. But now note my wit: His Grace knows not Crazy: My husband, habited like a Citizen, shall take the name of Crazy upon him; offer his Jewels to the Prince; you shall present them; praise them and raise them: His Grace pays; my husband returns; and we will share. Do you approve?  Cras. 
Nay admire.  Py. 
Away then. No Compliment among good wits; but away. Come your ways hither, good man; Put off your hat; Make a leg; Look simply. Why so! Pish, ne'er tell me: He will make a rare Citizen. I have Jewels for you to carry to the Prince.  Exit. Cras. Sneak. 
Yes forsooth, I'll carry them.  Py. 
La! you are so quick! I have charged you not to shoot your bolt, before you understand your mark. And you shall carry them like a Citizen; call yourself Crazy; sell them at my price; and now cast no further. You see the limits of your understanding. Now Sir, how will you bear yourself to his Grace? How behave yourself at Court?  Sneak. 
I hope I am not too wise to learn.  Py. 
Why, that was well spoken. Modest mistrust is the first step to knowledge. Remember that sentence. Now mark. I will instruct you: When you come at the Court gate, you may neither knock nor piss. Do you mark? You go through the Hall covered; through the great Chamber covered; through the Presence bore; through the Lobby covered; through the Privy Chamber bore; through the Privy Lobby covered; to the Prince bore.  Sneak. 
I'll do't I warrant you. Let me see. At the Court gate neither knock nor make water. May not a man break wind?  Py. 
Umh, yes: but (like the Exchequer payment) somewhat abated.  Sneak. 
Through the great Chamber bare.  Py. 
Covered.  Sneak. 
Covered? Well: Through the Presence covered.  Py. 
Bare.  Sneak. 
Bare? I will put all downe in my Table-book, and con it by the way.  Py. 
Well thought on. Something he has in him like my husband! But now you come before the brow of Royalty. Now for your carriage there Sir: Suppose me the Prince. Come in, and present. Here sits the Prince. There enters the Jeweller. Make your honours. Let me see you do it handsomely.  Sneak. 
Yes, now I come in; make my three legs— And then—  Py. 
Kneel.  Sneak. 
Yes; and say—  Py. 
What?  Sneak. 
Nay, that I know not.  Py. 
An't please your Grace, I have certain Jewels to present to your liking.  Sneak. 
An't please your Grace, I have certain Jewels to present to your liking.  Py. 
Is this Crazy, that had wont to serve me with Jewels? It is that honest man, so please your Highness. That's for M. holy-water, the by-flatterer to speak. You are a Cuckoldly Knave, Sirrah, and have often abused me with false and deceitful stones.  Sneak. 
My stones are right, so please your Excellence.  Py. 
Why that was well, Very well. I perceive there is a certain infection taken with lying with a woman that hath a good wit. I find it by my husband. Come, I'll disguise you, and away to Court instantly.  Sneak. 
Truly wife, I fear I shall be discovered among the Gallants presently.  Py. 
No, no, A fool is never discovered among madmen.  Exeunt.   

ACT. III.  

Scene III.  Enter Tryman, Crasy. Crasy in his Court habit. Cras. 
WEll Dol, (that thou sayst is thy name) though I had forgotten thee, I protest. About London-wall was it (sayst thou?) Well, I cannot but highly commend thy wisdom in this, that so well hast mended thy election; from being a fountain of aches, bald brows, and broad plasters, thus to remember thy Creation.  Try. 
I did consider, and I think rightly, what I was; and that men that loved my use, loved it but to loathe me: Therefore I changed myself into this shape of a demure, innocent Country Widow, that had scarce beauty enough to be tempted, but not wit enough to be nought; and quite forsook the path I trod in, and betook me to this private course of cozenage.  Cras. 
But all my wonder is at the means, how thou got'st into this house and reputation. And to be held a woman of such an estate.  Try. 
That shall be made plain to you hereafter.  Enter Crack. 
Now Brother Geoffrey, where left you M wolsey?  Crack. 
Among the Mercers, so troubled, as if all the Satin in Cheapside were not enough to make you a wedding Gown. He is overjoyed that his happy day is at hand; and I overheard him invite one special friend to his Nuptials. He cannot contain himself. On a sudden he fell a singing, O she's a dainty Widow. O are you come Sir, in your new shape? does not that beard fit you handsomely? Thank my acquaintance with the Players.  Cras. 
I think thou art acquainted any way, to set out knavery.  Crac. 
If you can perform your part as well, 'tis well. Hark, I hear him coming.  Enter linsey Woolsey. Lin. 
Where are you sweet Widow? Look you, Look you: How do you like these patterns?  Try. 
Sir, here's a Gentleman has a Letter to you: He tells me it imports the making, or the undoing of his dearest friend.  Lin. 
From whom, I pray you?  Lin. reads. Cra. 
Your sometimes neighbour Sir, M: crazy.  Try. 
It shall take effect, doubt not.  Cra. 
He scratches his head, though.  Try. 
He had as lief part with his blood as his money.  Lin. 
M. crazy writes to me for thirty pound; the value of a Ring I had of him. I grant I am to pay threescore at my day of Marriage. But we are all mortal. And who knows whether I shall live till tomorrow.  Cras. 
If not, Sir, your Bond is due tonight: For it is equally payable at your hour of death.  Lin. 
O, but such payments never trouble a man. What the eye sees not—  Try. 
Are you in Bonds, M. wolsey, for your day of Marriage?  Lin. 
Only for this sixty pound. 'Tis for that Ring you wear, and I gave you upon our Contract. 'Tis worth thirty pound ready money.  Try. 
Then when you are married, you may say you paid the rest for your wife. Pray Sir make even such reckonings before you wed. It will show nobly in you towards your poor Creditor, and be a special argument of your love to me, your wife. Pray discharge it, I shall not think you love me else.  
Hark you Sir, if you will take thirty pound in full payment, and give me in my Bond, here is your money. 'Tis your best course. Alas, I am an unlikely fellow for wedlock. What woman, think you, would bestow herself upon me, a stale Bachelor, unhandsome and poor— not worth above six or seven thousand pound? Do; take thirty pound.  aside. Cras. 
If you please to be friend Mr. crazy but which thirty pound, I'll set it received upon the Bond. Here it is. And he shall demand no more till it be due.  Try. 
Pray Sir pay it all, and take in your Bond. You shall be married within these two days; tomorrow, if you please: What use will your money yield you for a night? Pray pay it. In truth I'll pay it else. 'Tis but threescore pound.  Lin. 
sayst thou so, Sweetheart. Come Sir. Come in and tell your money—  Exit. Cras. 
And thank you too, good M. linsey wolsey, that knew so well, a bargain was a bargain, and would not part with your money to be laughed at among your neighbours. I would heartily now, if I could intend it. But I must purse your money, and then about my Court affairs. This wench I am infinitely beholden to. She remembers some old courtesy that I have forgotten. Perhaps I piddled with her when I was Prentice.  Exit.   

ACT. III.  

Scene IV.  Enter Sarpego, in gorgeous Apparel. Sar. 
THis is the Presence. I am much amazed, or stupefied, that Mr. Tobias Sneakup, my quondam Pupil, attends not my Conduct! Ha! So instant was his Grace, his importunity to enjoy me, that although I purchased the loan of Clothes, yet I had not vacation, nor indeed variety to shift my shirt. And now I come to Court, I feel certain little Cattle of infamous generation about me, that do most inseparably haunt me. Now if (when the Prince surveys me) any of them being strangers here, should peep to behold strange sights, and his Grace perceive them, what should I answer?—  Crasie at the hangings. Cras. 
O, my glorified Pedant in his most natural strut!  Sar. 
I will say it was by influence of the heavens; or, to appear the more perfect Courtier at the first dash, I will say, that though my outside were glorious, yet of purpose I left my inside lousy.  Enter Sneakup like a Citizen. 
Sed, O Dii! Quem video? nun Mr. Sneakup?  Cra. 
See my worshipful Father-in-Law! Now the Woodcocks shoot into the glade.  Sneak. 
Pray ye peace, you must not know me.  Sar. 
O monstrum horrendum! May not you and I know one another?  Sneak. 
Pray go home, and ask my wife.  Enter Crasy in haste. Cras. 
Mr. Crazy. Is not one Mr. Crazy here?  Sneak. 
Yes Sir. Here is Mr. Crazy for a need Sir.  Cras. 
Well done: Be bold Sir. Let not your dissimulation be read in your eyes. You know me; give me the Jewels.  Sneak. 
Yes Sir.  Cras. 
Let me alone to present them to his Grace, and praise them, before you are called.  Sneak. 
Will you do so Sir?  Cras. 
Yes; For you know I must not seem to endear them before your face: For that would smell rank of correspondency.  Sneak. 
You say right Sir.  Cras. 
But betwixt us both we'll make a shift to cheat him. Stay you here. I will return instantly. O Mr. Sarpego! Your Pupil will come and conduct you presently.  

Thus sometimes, by deceit, deceit is known:  
'Tis honest craft, by wit to get one's own.—   Exit. Enter Ticket, Rufflit, Toby. To. 
My Quondam Pedagogue!  Sar. 
My Nuper Alumnus! Come, present me to the Grace of Greatness. I am ready; behold I am approached according to thy entreats, to approve thy praise, and mine own perfection. Set on: His Grace shall see that we can speak true Latin, and construe Ludovicus vives: Go, set on.  Tob. 
I cry you mercy Sir. Upon my troth, I took you for Mr. Sarpego, my learned Tutor. He is very like him; Is he not Gentlemen? But now I come to myself again, I remember this was never his walk, nor these his clothes.  Sar. 
Sent you not a Nuntius, or a Messenger for me, intimating, that it was his Grace his instant desire, to entertain me as his Instructor?  Tic. 
Alas, he has overstudied himself! You were best let blood in time Sir.  Sar. 
Sent I not you, by the same messenger, your ten pound?  Tob. 
My ten pound? Ha, ha ha: I would laugh i'faith, if you could bob me off with such payment.  Ruff. 
Sure Sir, you use some dormitories. Best shave your head, and anoint it with Oil of Roses.  Tob. 
Father! Father!  Sneak. 
Pray peace son. The plot will be discovered else.  Tob. 
The plot? what plot?  Sneak. 
The Jewels are sent in, What, I am Mr. Crazy now, you know. I shall be sent for in to his Grace instantly.  Tob. 
Midsummer Moon! Midsummer Moon!  Sneak. 
In very truth son, hit as 'twill, I say we are beholding to Mr. holy-water.  Tob. 
Heaven not bless me, if I understand not the Baboons mumpings better than your speech. You are more dark than Delphos. What Holywater?  Sneak. 
Why the Gentleman, you know, you sent to bring M. Crazy to serve his Grace with Jewels.  Tob. 
Father, Heaven pardon me: For sure I have a great desire to call you Coxcomb. I sent no man; nor is there any so styled as holy-water about the Court.  Tic. 
Do you not want sleep sir?  Ruff. 
Or have you not seen a spirit sir?  Tic. 
Or have you not over-mused, or over-thought yourself, as we doubt Mr. Sarpego, here, has done?  Tob. 
Or has not my mother over-beaten you, father? You may tell me.  Sneak. 
Son, I am not so very a fool, but I perceive I am made a stark Ass. Oh son, thy father is cozened; and thy mother will beat me indeed, unless your charity conceal me in the Court here, till her fury be over.  Ticket. 
He shall stay at my wife's Chamber.  Rufflit. 
And there instruct us in the passages of this cozenage.  Tob. 
Do not weep father. My Lady Ticket will appease all.  Ruff. 
Adieu Mr. Sarpego. Lure your brains back again.  Exeunt. Sar. 
Sic transit gloria Mundi. The learned is coney-caught; and the lover of Helicon is laughed at. The last sixpence of my fortune is spent; and I will go cry in private.  Exit.   

ACT. IIII.  

Scene I.  Enter Crasy like a Dancer. Cras. 
NOw, whilst my politic Mother-in-Law is in expectation of her great adventure, and my worshipful Father-in-Law stinks at Court for fear of her; I in this last disguise will pursue my new affairs. Methinks these Jewels smile on me now more cheerfully then when they were mine own before. First to my honest Punk.  Crack meets Crasie at the door. Crac. 
Who would you speak with Sir?  Cras. 
With thy sister. Dost thou not know me Jeffrey. Where is she? Look better on me.  Cras. 
O, is it you Sir? Hang me if I knew you in this habit; though I was set here on purpose to watch for you.  Cras. 
What's the matter Jeffrey?  Crac. 
Sir she is fallen into a new fit of Melancholy. Some new project she has in her noddle. But she desires you to work upon this, [he gives him a paper.] I dare not be seen to talk with anybody.— Exit.  Cras. 
What new device is this? [he reads.] Since I last saw you, your Mother-in-Law, Mrs. Sneakup, has earnestly dealt with me to make me a Bride for her son Tobias. If there may be any thing wrought out of it to benefit you, I will suddenly take occasion to break with the Fool wolsey; of whom I am heartily weary; and after, be wholly disposed by you. Sure this wench studies nothing but my profit. Well: I have thought already to make the best of her. Now to my new Mistress. This is the house, and here's her maid.  Enter Bridget. Bri. 
Would you speak with any here Sir?  Cras. 
With your Mistress, (I take it) Mistress Crazy.  Bri. 
May not I deliver your mind unto her Sir?  Cras. 
My business is of weight and secrecy: yet you may tell her, here is the Gentleman that her Doctor sent her.  Bri. 
O she expects him most impatiently— Pray enter Sir. She's ready for you, there before you Sir—  Exit Crasie. 

A business of mine own makes me wait here.  
I think I saw my learned Love make this way.  
But he (alas) though small in fleshly growth,  
By reason of his high preferment is  
Now grown too great for me.   Enter Sarpego musing. 

'Tis he; I know his stature,  
Though not his clothes, the Ensigns of his greatness,  
In which how big he seems, though but a sprawler!  
So clothes can make men greater, but not taller.  
He's deep in study; I dare not interrupt him.   Sar. 

I have adventured, though with trembling feet,  
Unto this Mansion, to exonerate,  
At least extenuate my suspirations  
For my dear loss. The Lady of this place.  
Who had an equal venture, and hath suffered  
In the same Fate with me, may ease my sorrow.  
Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris.  
I of my wrongs, and she of hers shall clamour.  
But ecce noster ubi esset Amor.   Bri. 
Most worshipful Sir, welcome from Court, If your poor Handmaid may presume to say so.  Sar: 
Where is your Mistress? I mean your grand Matrona, Mrs. Sneakup.  Bri. 
In the first place let me beseech you Sir,  
Vouchsafe your answer to a longing Maid,  
That can be comforted in nothing more,  
Then the good news of your prosperity;  
Of which I hope a part at least to be,  
Preferred by your late promise to your service.  Sar. 
I will now breathe a most strong and Poetical execration  
Against the Universe. [Bri.] Sir I beseech you—  Sar. 

From henceforth Erit Fluvius Deucalionis  
The world shall flow with dunces; Regnabitque, and it shall rain  
Dogmata Polla Sophon, Dogs and Polecats, and so forth.   Bri. 
His Court advancement makes him mad, I fear.  Sar. 

From hence let learning be abomination  
'Mong the Plebeians, till their ignorance  
Shall lead them blind into the Lake of Lethe.   Bri. 

What pity 'tis that honour and high places  
Should make men lose their wits, sometimes their heads!   Sar. 

May Peasantry and Idiotism trample  
Upon the heads of Art and Knowledge, till  
The world be shuffled in th' pristine Chaos.   Bri. 

Dear Sir, though you are highly dignified,  
Forget not the preferment, that you promised me,  
To scratch your head; to make your bed; to wash  
Your shirt; to pick your toes, and to evacuate  
Your Chamberpot.   Sar. 

Elephantem ex Musca facit. She takes me for a Mountain, that am but a Molehill.  
But when she reads my poverty again,  
And that these Garments must return to th'Gambrels,  
Her scorn will be impetuous.   Enter Josina, Crasie. Jo. 

Go find another room maid for your talk,  
Mr. Sarpego, my mother calls for you.   Sar. 
Has she received Aliquid novi, news from Court?  Jo. 

She has now received a Letter. Pray be gone,  
I have more serious business of mine own. Ex. Sar. Brid.  
You are the Creature then that my dear  
Doctor has sent me, that can dance, read, write, and be secret. I shall use you all in all. And I prithee how fares my Physician?   Cra. 
I can confirm that he is yours protestedly. And tomorrow night—  Jo. 
Peace: Here comes my mother.  Enter Pyannet reading a Letter. 
I can my Cinquepace friend. But I prithee teach me some tricks. Who would care for a female, that moves after the plain pace? No: Give me the woman of tricks. Teach me some tricks I prithee.  Cra. 
Ha! Tricks of twenty: Your Traverses, Slidings, Falling back, Jumps, Closings, Openings, Shorts, Turns, Pacings, Gracings— As for— Corantoes, Levaltoes, Jigs, Measures, Pavins, Brawls, Galliards, or Canaries, I speak it not swellingly, but I subscribe to no man.  Jos. 
'tis a rare fellow!  Py. 
Am I then cheated? my wit begins to be out of countenance. O the Plague that hangs over her head that has a fool to her husband, as thou and I have daughter.  Jo. 
How now sweet mother? What ill news changeth your face thus?  Py. 
O dear daughter, my Lady Ticket writes here, that the fool, thy father, is cheated of two rich Jewels, that thou and I stole from the Idiot thy husband Crazy.  Cra. 
O that crazy was ever a silly fellow.  Py. 
A very Citizen, a very Citizen. How should I call you Sir?.  Jo. 
One Mr. Footwell, Mother; who teacheth Gentlewomen to do all things Courtly, to dance Courtly, to love their husbands Courtly—  Cra. 
Your name is Mrs. Pyannet, I take it.  Py. 
Pyannet Sneakup, Sir.  Cra. 
Your husband is cozened at Court, I take it.  Py. 
So my Lady Ticket writes, Sir.  Cra. 
That Lady Ticket is a cunning creature. I have been inward with her; And such are my private Intelligences, that if equal courtesy might recompense, I could unshale a plot is upon you.  Py. 
Recompense? Sir command me, command my daughter, my maid, my house, only tell it I beseech you.  Jo. 
I pray see wherein we may be grateful. I pray speak.  Cra. 
So it is, I am a decayed Gentleman, quite out of repair; fallen for want of means to the use of my feet: Nor have I hope to see better light, but only that Love and Fortune have put upon me a right wealthy widow. She lies at a near neighbour's house here; and here I hover about her: but for want of some good friend's countenance, some means for clothes and fit housing, she holds off from consummating our Marriage. Now Lady—  Py. 
I apprehend you Sir. Bring her to me; lodge her with me; I'll call you x I. Is she very rich? At a near neighbours, said you,— Not she at Mr. Wolsy's, is it?  Cra. 
The very same.  Py. 
(By'r Lady a match for my Esquired son and heir. Bear a brain dancer, or I may chance to show you a cross caper.) Sir, bring your Widow. Swear to yourself my house is yours. Now the plot, or I burst.  Cra. 
Why then will I disclose who cozened you; by what means you are injured, and how you may be revenged, only you shall vow to conceal the secret-revealer, else you lose the benefit of further Intelligence.  Py. 
Stand off daughter: I will not trust mine own flesh with a secret; for in truth I have found it frail. Now speak, I beseech you.  Cra. 
Sure, precious Mistress, very absolute creatures have had Coxcombs to their husbands.  Py. 
Nay that's indubitable, I know it by myself.  Cra 
Marry to be made Cuck-quean by such a Coxcomb, to have her Jewels prigged away, to bestow on a Court Mistress; to have a trick put upon her, as you have, 'twould move (I must confess) a woman that were not part a Philosopher, and had a strong wit as you have. Why did you not feel the deceit? your husband's unworthiness, having no means to enjoy this Court-Lady but by gifts; and having no course for gifts, but from you, procures some Pander to perform a famed message. Your hope of game puts the weighty trust upon the counterfeit fool your husband; his simplicity seems cozened, whilst this Lady excuses all, and keeps all: So that your own Jewels purchase your own horns; nay, and you were not withal laughed at for your purchase, 'twere scarce enough to run mad for.  Py. 
'Tis most plain: I will have such a revenge, as never woman had.  Enter Ticket. Tic. 
Good Mrs. Pyannet, bear't as well as you may: Your loss is heavy, yet under the strength of your constant wisdom— i'faith my wife was so careful lest you should take too deep sense of it, that she importuned my own presence to comfort you: For sure I know—  Py. 
You are a wittolly Cuckold I know. I commend thy wife's modesty yet: She will not do it afore thy face, but will send thee out of an errand yet.  Tic. 
What mean you? you amaze me.  Py. 
Nay, I look you should seem ignorant: What, to take sense or notice of your horn, as long as it winds you into profit, were most uncourtly. Well, you hear not me rage nor rave: marry I will slit the Drabs nose, crop off her ears, scratch out her eyes—  Tic. 
Bless us!  Py. 
Tear off her hair, pluck out her throat, that's all. Come along Sir.  Io. 
Now they are gone, I prithee M. Footwell stay a little, I will fetch thee some Letters to read for me, which I have not opened yet, because I durst trust nobody.—  Exit. Py. Tic. Exit. Cras. 
These Letters must necessarily come from my Brace of Courtiers, Sir Ticket, and Monsieur Rufflit, which I will read clean contrary, as if they slighted her, and answer them across from her meaning, as if she slighted them: And so letting myself down into their innards on both sides, what they can get, or what my wife has, will I pump into mine own purse.  Enter Josina with two Letters. Jo. 
Now dear M. Footwell, as ever you pitied the use of a poor Gentlewoman, that would fain use her beauty, whilst there is some pleasure in it, read and answer these Letters with commanding eloquence; force them to affect me.  Cra. 
Ha, ha, ha: Will you not be offended, if I read them truly?  Jo. 
No: I prithee what is't?  Cra. 
Stay, it seems you have written to them.  Jo. 
Yes: but I cannot read the answer. Prithee what is't?  Cra. 
Faith you'll be angry.  Jo. 
Nay, and you love me, what is't?  Cra. 
Sir Andrew here, he says, 'tis not your broad rimmed hat, your tiffany dress, Spanish ruff, and silver bodkin can make him disloyal to his wife's bed. Rufflit here, he writes that you have a gross body, a dull eye, a low forehead, a black tooth, a fat hand, and a most lean purse. I there's it: And you could but give, and you had but to send—  Jo. 
A lean purse!  Cra. 
ay, the lean purse. There's the Devil: Were you as bald as Time, as stiffly wrinkled as frozen ploughed Lands, more dry than a Fever, more lean than death; had you ingrossed deformity, yet if you had but to give—  Jo. 
Why Footwell, though my husband be but a Bankrupt Knave—  Cra. 
Nay faith, rather a fool, Mistress.  Jo. 
Well, fool let him be then; yet I have a Mother will not see me want for necessary ends: And I hope I had the wit to cozen my husband of somewhat against a rainy day. Look you Sir, I kept these for a friend in a corner.  Cra. 
Nay, but I would not wish you to send them now: What, relieve the base wants of prating Skipjacks to pay for your damnation?  Jo. 
Nay that's sure, I will not give them:  Cra. 
And yet, i'faith, what can a Gentlewoman give too much for her pleasure? Can there be a more heavy disgrace blown abroad upon any Lady, then that she has not at the least two servants, since many Lovers are the only noble approvement of beauty?  Io. 
I'll send them both, that's sure.  Cra. 
But both of them to Mr. Rufflit: Oh, he's an absolute spirit! He has an English face, a French tongue, a Spanish heart, an Irish hand, a Welsh Leg, a Scotch beard, and a Dutch buttock.  Jo. 
O I: I am wholly his, I will send all to him.  Cra. 
O but Sir Andrew, he is a Courtly Lover: He can kiss you courtly, handle you Courtly, lie with you Courtly.  Jo. 
O yes: he shall have one. I prithee praise me to them both, and commend to each of them one of these Jewels, not that I do so much care for the use of them, yet because I would not be wondered at like an Owl among my neighbours, for living honest in my husband's absence. I prithee work effectually for me, sweet M. Footwell.  Exit. Enter Rufflit, spying her going out. Ruf. 
Mrs. Crazy: Hist Mrs. Crazy.  Cra. 
Peace Sir, forbear: As you would hope, do not pursue a woman when she is out of the humour. O, untimely importunity is most distasteful. There are certain seasons to take the coldest Appetite, when she is pinning a Ruff, playing with a Monkey, hearing a wanton Song, or half drunk.  Ruf. 
O hat are you Sir?  Cra. 
A private Messenger to you Sir, from the Gentlewoman you pursue. This is your hand, is it not?  Ruf. 
Yes:  Cra. 
You may keep your Letter.  Ruf. 
But what says my utmost hope, the end of my ambition?  Cra. 
Only that you are poor, a Gallant of a very wanting fortune.  Ruf. 
The more honour for her to redeem me.  Cra. 
Alas, I think her means are but weak, her husbands sinking hath brought her low.  Ruf. 
Her husband! Alas poor fly; only made to be sucked and forsaken. His wife has the life-blood of her fortunes in her, and I'll be her cupping-glass.  Cra. 
I wonder his wife could nourish so unbelieving a conscience!  Ruf. 
Conscience! All things rob one another: Churches poule the People, PRINCE's pill the Church; Minions draw from Princes, Mistresses suck Minions; and the Pox undoes Mistresses; Physicians plague their Patients; Orators their Clients; Courtiers their Suitors, and the Devil all. The water robs the earth, earth chokes the water: fire burns air, air still consumes the fire.  

Since Elements themselves do rob each other,  
And Phoebe for her light doth rob her Brother,  
What is't in man, one man to rob another?   Cra. 
You have spoken most edifyingly sir, but for you, of whom I understand crazy merits the best Offices; for you to corrupt his Wife, and with a covetous sinning expect use for the loan of your Loins!  Ruff. 
Death man, they are my Exchequer, my Rent: Why I have no possession but my Estate tail. And at for crazy, he has no wit; he was created a fool, to have Knaves work upon him: a fellow made to have some pity, and all wrong; he had ever an open Purse, and now an empty. He made it a common hole, every Gallant had his fingers in it. Every man loved his Fortune, squeezed it, and when it was unjuiced, farewell kind heart. I confess I owe him a good turn: I'll pay't his Wife. He kept her always exquisitely neat; temptingly gallant, and as a protested Cuckold should do, about his degree and means sumptuously proud. Her Eye artificially spirited, her Cheek surfled, her Teeth blanched, her Lip painted, her Neck carcaneted, and her Breast barred almost to her Belly. And shall a piece, thus put out to sale, stand unattempted, as not worth the purchase.  Cra. 
Yes Sir, if you could compass her; as sure she may be corrupted: for she is very covetous.  Ruff. 
If I could but make show of a Gift, or present one—  Cra 
Only not to appear of so needy a Fortune— Why if you chance to possess her.  Ruff. 
Pish, 'ttwere all mine again, and all that she had besides. And troth, I think she is wealthy.  Cra. 
Wealthy! look you Sir, Here are two of her Jewels, I fetched from an aunt of hers, where they lay hid from her Husband. These are not worth the pursuit.  Ruff. 
Nay, 'tis an easy Female: He, that has her, has all. What should I send? A Gift would do it. Let me think. 'tis but a gross-bodied Wench, with a blackish hair neither.  Cra. 
Oh the better. Your lean Nobodies with yellow Manes have most commonly rotten teeth and wicked breaths. No, your full plump Woman is your only Venus.  Ruff. 
A hundred golden pieces I am entrusted withal by my elder Brother, to purchase a piece of Injustice. If I should send them—  Cra. 
Oh Sir, these both were yours, and they too. She pretends this strain, but only to explore your strength of means, and to try how far you dare engage them for her enjoying.  Ruff. 
I will send them, win her, use her, suck her Purse, recover my own, gain hers, and laugh at the poor Cuckold her Husband. Commend with these my life's blood, and Souls service to my Mistress. Farewell—  Exit. Enter Ticket. Cra. 
Sir Andrew Ticket, I take it.  Tic. 
The same, Sir. Is Mrs. Crazy within? I cannot keep pace with her Mother. O, when jealousy is once set a going, it runs on high speed. But let her make haste to arrive at Court, while I land on her Daughter in the City. Is she privately idle?  Crasie spits at Ticket. 
What dost thou mean by that?  Cra. 
My Vow's discharged, and her Revenge is done. I am no Pandar, Sir, and yet I am of Counsel with Smock secrets, Buttock business Sir.  
Are you so stale a Courtier, and know not the necessity of Gifts?  Tic. 
Is that the matter I am rejected by her?  Cra. 
Why? would it not provoke any Woman to be called fool, and foul-face?  Tic. 
I never called her so, by the Soul of my Affection, not I.  Cra. 
No; Do you not intimate she is a fool, when you hope to enjoy her without a Gift? And foul, when your neglect of cost says she deserves none.  Tic. 
'Fore Heaven I was a silly Ass, now I think on't, to send a Sonnet without some rich present.  Cra. 
Why Sir? A man must do as he would be done to. Do you, or any man use to be made Cuckold for nothing?  Tic. 
I should have sent a Gift. What, if I enjoy her, she may requite it.  Cra. 
May; Nay can; nay will. Look you Sir, here's Gold. Here are Jewels. They are hers; they may be yours. I would not seem a Pandar to you though; for you have a Wife Sir.  Tic. 
Pish, who cares to drink out of a River? What I can command out of duty hath but a dull relish. Had not Danae been kept in her brass Tower, she had never tempted a God's piercing. I must send, though it be but to show the ability of my Fortune, and the desert of her Beauty.  Cra. 
And then to send but a trifle would disgrace both.  Tic. 
Hold, convey this carkanet unto her; 'tis of value, and let her read by this, how much I seek her.  Cra. 
And how dear you hold her. Sir, I can speak; but I use to take nothing for my pains.  Tic. 
Yes, receive this little— Nay, I prithee.  Cra. 
Only not to appear Uncourtly, or uncivil. I protest I abhor Pandarism; only as a second, or so. As you have beheld two Horses knubbing one another; Ka me, Ka thee, an old kind of Courtship.  Tic. 
I prithee return instantly my success: You shall find me at the Ordinary; come and Dine with me.  Cra. 
I have procured a private Stable for my Horse: And therefore I myself would be loath to stand at Livery.  Cra. 
Dost compare common Stables for Horses, and public Ordinaries for Gallants together.  Cra. 
Troth yes sir, for as in Stables, here a goodly Gelding of twenty pounds' price, & there a raw-back Jade of four Nobles by him. So at Ordinaries, here a worthy Fellow of means and virtue, and there a Cheating Shifter of wants and cozenage. Here a Knight, there a Beggar; Here a Gallant, there a Gull: Here a Courtier, there a Coxcomb; Here a Justice of Peace, and there an Esquire of low Degree. Or, in direct Phrase, a Pandar.  Tic. 
Such a one as thou art.  Cra. 
Umh, Virtue goes often wetshod, and is forced to be cobbled up with base means, to hold out water and cold necessity. You command me no further sir.  Tic. 
No honest Knave, farewell—  Exit Crasy. 
Now Mr. crazy, will I button up your Cap with a Court-brooch.  
You demand Debts, do you? I'll pay you none. Oh 'twas a notable dull Flat-Cap. He would invite Courtiers; stand bare, say grace, make legs, kiss his hand, serve us in perfumed linen, and lend us money upon our words, or bare words. Were't not a sin to let such a fool pass unsucked? No, Fortune dressed him only for us to feed on, and I'll fall to.  Exit.   

ACT. IV.  

Scene 11.  La. Ticket. Sneakup. Toby. Page. La. Tic. 
BEE comforted Mr. Sneakup; Remember you are in my Chamber. Bear the heart of a Husband, who scorns to tremble at the face of his Wife? Do not fear sir.  Tob. 
Stand firm Father, do not sink before the face of a Lady.  La. 
I have sent my own Husband to satisfy her, and I hope he will do it throughly. Be yourself therefore; all the Pleasures the Palace can afford, shall strive to mitigate your fears.  Sneak. 
Have you any Pleasures in the Court, can make a man forget he has a Wife?  To. 
Sir we have pleasures will make a man forget any thing, even himself; therefore necessarily his wife, who is but part of himself.  La. T. 
Boy, sing your song of the Court delights.  They sit: Sneakups head in the Lady's lap. The Page sings— Enter Pyannet with a Truncheon. Sarpego. Py. 
Are you lulled in your delights? No pillow for your Goatish, head, but her ladyship's lap?  Sneak. 
O dear! O wife! I did not know you were so nigh truly.  Py. 
You are ignorant still, I know: But I will make thy bones suffer as well as my brows. Thou Cullion, could not thine own Cellar serve thee, but thou must be sneaking into Court Butteries?  Sneak. 
Oh, oh, oh—  Sar. 
Vae misero.  To. 
Hold dear mother.  La. T. 
Sweet Mrs. Pyannet hold.  Py. 
Art thou there, daughter of an Intelligencer, and strumpet to a Bearward?  La. T. 
Now Beauty bless me, was not thy mother a notorious tripewife, and thy father a professed Hare-finder? Gip you Flirt.  Py. 
How now Madam Tiffany! Will none but my Cock serve to tread you? Give me my Jewels thou Harlot.  To. 
Mother— Pray Mother—  Py. 
Bestow steeping thy skin in perfumes to kill the stink of thy paintings, and rotten innards to catch Coxcombs.  To. 
Dear mother.  Py. 
But thou shalt not cozen, and cuckquean me▪  To. 
Sweet mother—  Sar. 
Lupus in fabula. The devil's in the woman's tongue.  Py. 
A whip on her; rotten eggs and kennel dirt on her silken Whoreship.  Sar. 
Nil tam difficile. Nothing can lay her.  La. T. 
Nay, let the Country Gentlewoman be mad and rave on; she knows I know my Country Gentlewoman had a Bastard before she was married.  Py. 
Did 'em so? The Country Gentlewoman was more chaste in a Bastard, than the Court Madam in her barrenness. You understand me; you have no greensickness there, yet (I hope) you have few Christenings; you have tricks for that, have you?  To. 
Nay mother—  Py. 
You have your Kickshaws, your player's marchpanes; all show and no meat.  Sar. 
Nulli penetrabilis Astro. she'll hear no reason.  La. T. 
Go to; you know how in private you commended your Horsekeeper to me.  Py. 
Well: And didst not thou in as much privacy counsel me to contemn my husband, and use an Italian trick that thou wouldst teach me?  Sar. 
Quid faciendum? Best stop their mouths?  La. T. 
Out you bauble; you trifle; you burden smocked sweaty sluttery, that couldst love a fellow that wore worsted stockings footed, and fed in Cooks shops.  Sar. 
Jaculis & Arcu. Thunder and Lightning.  Py. 
Ods my precious——  Sneak. 
Nay dear, sweet wife—  Py. 
How's this—  To. 
Honey Mother—  Py. 
Take this, and take all. Why goody Complexion, thou Rammy Nastiness, thou knowest wherefore thy Gentlewoman left thee; did she not swear that she—  To. 
For modesty's sake—  Py. 
Had rather be at the opening of a dead old man, then stand dressing thy head in a morning. Remember the Page that wore thy picture, and the song which thou hadst in the praise of the male Baboon.  Sar. 
Tacete parvuli: You have said too much.  To. 
Indeed mother you will be sorry, when you know how much you mistake; some crafty fellow has put a trick upon you.  Sneak. 
Methinks sweet wife you should rather condole our loss with me.  Py. 
Hold you your peace; do not you prate.  Sar. 
Red te Harpocratem: The man is wise enough.  To. 
'Tis true; misfortune hath wrought the jewels from my father.  Sneak. 
Indeed wife, truly, truly, I am coney-catched—  To. 
But for my father, or this Ladies wronging you, as I am your son, I assure you I have been an eye-witness of all fair respect towards you.  Py. 
Is it even so?  To. 
Mother, as I respect your blessing it is perfect truth.  Py. 
I humbly beseech you sweet Madam, that my earnest and hearty sorrow may procure remission for my inconsiderate and causeless Invectives. Let my confession seem satisfactory, and my contrition win indulgency to my forgetful delinquency. I pray you let us kiss and be friends.  La. T. 
Alas sweet friend, you and I have been inward a great while, and for us to fall out, and bore one another's secrets—  Py. 
Well, 'twas mine error, not malice; but as for the procurer of it, if I pay not him in his own Coin— Mr. Footwell! I'll show you a trick of twenty. Come son, I have a wife for thee.  To. 
A Wife! a Wife, Mother! O where is she?  Py. 
ay, my boy, a Wife—  To. 
O ho.  Py. 
And such a one as thou shalt bless me for procuring. Courteously farewell, sweet Madam: Where's my Fool? Come, leave the Court sirrah, and man your own wife into the City—  Exeunt omnes.   

ACT. IIII.  

Scene III.  Josina, Crasy. Jo 
BUt I prithee satisfy me: What return they? Received they my Jewels?  Cra. 
Yes, they proved acceptive,  Jo. 
And what said they? Can they affect?  Cra. 
Can they be damned? Before I will undergo again such a business— fore Heaven I do as little differ from a Pander! only I have nothing for my pains, or else—  Jo. 
Thou shalt have. Are thy news happy?  Cra. 
Are your own wishes happy?  Jo. 
Hold, spend this ten pound for me, Footwel.  Cra. 
Will you make me a Bawd. What a Bawd? And yet introth, what would not a man be for your sake, that have such wit and such bounty!  
I cannot refuse, but suffer your Virtue to be exercised upon me.  Jos. 
Now, prithee speak; what's their answer?  Cra. 
Why, I'll tell you, they are both your own.  Jos. 
Both Footwell: I prithee how?  Cra. 
Why, no more but this; they are both yours; only you know, but one hand in a Glove at once. But I had so much to do with one of them; such a coil to draw him to it—  Jos. 
Which, I prithee? Sir Andrew?  Cras. 
Even he: He says, he understands that you affect a Mountebank. Sure, your Doctor is but some base bragging Rascal.  Jo. 
Do you think so?  Cras. 
How should Sir Andrew know else that he is come to embrace you tonight?  Jo. 
Does he know that too?  Cra. 
Yes marry does he, which the worthy Knight takes so contemptuously, suffering so base a Rival, that he vows, unless you beat him, bastinado him soundly when he comes, he will loathe you most constantly.  Jo. 
Enough, if I do not make him an Example to all the bawdy Quacks in the Kingdom; say there is no virtue in Cudgels, and Bedstaves. I'll charm him for opening any more secrets of mine, I'll warrant him. And so write to Sir Andrew.  Cra. 
well-said Mistress, be resolute. I mean to help you myself.  Jo. 
I'll cast about for weapons instantly—  Exit. Cra. 
Yes, I will write to Sir Andrew 〈…〉 that, which he shall have small cause to thank me for. I will write for him to come in the habit of this Doctor. My●    

ACT. IV.  

Scene IV.  linsey wolsey, Crack with a Lute, etc. Lin. 
she's gone, she's gone: Was ever man so cheated? Threescore pound for a Ring; and the Ring gone too, for which I paid it: A month's diet and lodging, besides the charge of Physic and attendance. Five pound in dole bread, would have served my house a twelvemonth. I am undone; broke, Bankrupt: But thou Rogue shalt smart for all, now I have caught thee,  Crac. 
Mercy, dear Sir, mercy.  Lin. 
Were you making up your pack to be gone too?  Crac. 
Nothing but my own Sir, my Lute, and a few Music-books.  Lin. 
You and your Mistress have made sweet Music of me: Therefore sirrah quickly— Are the Beadles gone for?  Servant within. Yes Sir. Lin. 
Therefore quickly, I say, as you were an Actor in the Cozenage, bring her to light, or—  Crac. 
she's light enough herself: But a very Innocent I, Sir. She has cozened me of half a years' service, wrought me off o'my legs, strained my back, cracked my voice, done me to my utter undoing; and can you think I knew of her running away?  Lin. 
I'll make you sing another song sirrah: Are the Beadles come?  Crac. 
Any song Sir, or as many as you please.  He sings a song. Lin. 
Pretty I confess. But that's not the song must do it; nor can any song please me at this time. Are the Beadles come?  Serv. within. Yes Sir, they are here. Crac. 
Dear Sir, let 'em forbear a little. And if I cannot please you with a song, commit me to their fury.  Lin. 
'Tis but to trifle time: yet sing before you suffer. Worse than tother this; you shall sing in another place, to the whip, to the whip, Sir? Bring in the Beadles, and away with him to Bridewell.  He sings another song. Crac. 
Yet once more, good Sir, try me this last time, and but promise me, if I can sing a song that you shall like, to forgive and free me.  Lin. 
Sing a song that I shall like, and I will free thee.  Crack sings again. 

Then shall a present course be found  
For M. Wolsy's threescore pound;  
And his Ring,  
And the thing  
That has given him the slip—   Lin. 
I marry, that I like well.  Crac. 
Then I have escaped the whip.  Lin. 
Think you so Sir?  Crac. 
Yes: For you like the song well, you say, and I am free; I hope you will make good your noble City word, Sir.  Lin. 
City words use not to pass for songs Sir: Make you good the words of your song, Sir, and I shall make my word good Sir: Come away Beadles.  Crac. 
O stay Sir, I beseech you, and let your Justice fall on the right shoulders. I'll confess all.  Lin. 
O will you so Sir?  Crack. 
'Tis most true Sir, that the Gentlewoman; whom I called Mistress, is a most cunning whore, and a notorious cheat.  Lin. 
These are good words indeed!  Crac. 
she came to your house with four men in Liveries; they were all but hired Panders.  Lin. 
Yes, and divers Trunks of supposed Treasure, which I find to be Bags of Nails, and other old Iron, and all the Rings and Stones she boasted in her Will are but Curtain Rings, and Brickbats.  Crac. 
Your own covetousness cozened you Sir: But if I now bring you not where you shall see how she is since bestowed, and that you find not hearty cause to rejoice that you were cozened of her, let me be whipped to death, Sir.  Lin. 
Well, come along Sir: But I will have a Guard upon you.  Crac. 
What Guard you please Sir, so my poor skin may scape the Lash-guards.—  Exeunt omnes.   

ACT. V.  Crasy, Tryman, Pyannet, Toby. Try. 
O thou Varlet, thou unconscionable Unbeliever, ungodly Miscreant! Hast thou cozened my easy Credulity? And wouldst have undone and married me, like a coney-catching companion, as thou art? Didst not thou tell me, thou hadst moderate means of life, friends of fashion, and civil reputation? And now this virtuous, religious Gentlewoman tells me, thou art an arrant Skipjack.  Py. 
Nay, and has not a hole to put thy head in, but upon my courtesy.  Try. 
But I thank this matron's worship, her pity will not permit my easy Nature to suffer under thy Cozenage: But bestows her generous Son and Heir here upon me.—  Py. 
A Gentleman of another sphere, another rank than you are Sirrah; that shall have three hundred year in Esse, and five in Posse.  Try. 
That is acquainted with young Lords; has had the honour to make a Hunting match.  To. 
ay, and a challenge to ride the wild Goose chase.  Try. 
That hath made ladies' Posies for Cheese trenchers.  To. 
And played with Countesses at Shuttlecock.  Try. 
And to this Elegant Spirit and choice hope am I, and my Fortunes contracted.  Cras. 
How! contracted.  Try. 
Yes Sir, contracted. Look you, I dare seal it before your face.  Kiss. Cra. 
Are you so.  To. 
She is mine sir, mine sir. Do you mark, I dare likewise seal it sir.  Kiss. Cra. 
Is there honesty in this dealing?  Py. 
Yes sir, Is there not profit in this dealing?  Cra. 
'tis very well. If there be no Law upon words, Oaths and Precontracts, and Witness. If a man may spend a hundred Angels upon a Widow; have her affied before Witness, and then have his Nose wiped of her. Why, 'tis very well.  Tryman takes Pyannet and Toby aside. Try. 
Intruth dear heart, and sweet Mother in expectation, to speak equally, there have some words of course passed betwixt us, which may seem to impart some Engagement. Surely I have been too liberal of some speech of advantage. Truly it would not be amiss, (considering his Expense and Interest) to fall to some slight Composition. Some hundred Pounds would make the poor Knave do any thing.  To. 
Mother, let's be wise. Let's be wise Mother; fetch a hundred pieces presently: That even upon his first consent, he may be satisfied and silenced.  Try. 
For if he chance but to be delayed till he ask Counsel, then—  Py. 
Mum. A word to the wise.—  Exit. Cra. 
Nay, I hope as long as I am a Subject, I shall have Law: I doubt not but I shall have Law.  Try. 
Come Sir, you shall not deservedly exclaim of my neglecting you.  
For our sometimes Love, I have procured you a hundred Pounds.  Cra. 
To disclaim my right in you, I'll take't. Here's my hand, I'll take it.  To. 
Pox, how my Mother stays.  Cra. 
Scorn my Poverty! Come, where is't? Because I have not the Muck of the World. Come, the money.  Enter Pyannet. Py. 
Here sir, upon this consideration, that you disclaim and renounce all interest—  Cra. 
Yes most freely.  Py. 
In this Gentlewoman; and do vow, never to pretend future claim to her.  Cra. 
I do, marry.—  To. 
Nay, no marries sir, you have received the money. You shall make no more marries here. Come my betrothed Spouse, bid a Fice for him, Say black's thine Eye who dares. Mother I'll be married tonight, and to bed presently.  Py. 
This night, Son; 'tis very late.  To. 
never too late to be wise. I hope I am your Son; and must bear a Brain.  Py. 
Indeed, he that deals with Woman, must take occasion by the fore Lock. Away—  Exit. Cra. 
Why! I am weary of money now: I have gotten more in a week's Cozenage, then in all my days of Honesty. What an easy cool thing it is to be a rich Knave! Gramercy Punk. A witty Wench is an excellent help at a dead lift. But in despite of the Justice that provoked me, my Conscience a little turns at these brain-tricks. But they have all been ungrateful; ungrateful! 'tis a sin that should have no mercy: 'tis the Plague-spot; who has it should not live.  

If holy wisdom from the thundering Cloud  
Had given more Laws than ten, this had ensued:  
Avoid, O man, man's Shame, Ingratitude.  
For my poor Lot, I could have sweetly slept  
In quiet want, with resolute content,  
Had not defect of wit, uncourteous scorn  
Been thrust upon me. Now they all shall feel,  
When honest men revenge, their whips are steel.   
My Courtiers are the next that I must exercise upon. This night my wife expects the embraces of one of them at least, if this hasty Marriage call her not from her Chamber. But she being a right woman may prevent that with a feigned sickness, or so. Let me remember, I wrote to Rufflit to come like her Doctor Pulsfeel, to minister to her. This will jump right with a counterfeit sickness: It may, perhaps, break a Urinal about his Coxcomb.  Music. 
How now! O perceive this great Wedding goes forward.  Music. Torches. Sarpego. Toby and Tryman. Sneakup and La. Ticket, Pyannet. Josina in night attire. Bridget. They pass as to the Wedding with Rosemary. Crasy whispers Josina. She takes leave of her Mother, seeming to complain of being sick; and so returns with Bridget. 
Then enter Rufflit like a Doctor.  Cra. 
So, this falls out pat. She is no sooner gone Sick to her Chamber, but here comes her Physician, to cover and recover her in a trice.  Ruf. 
Hist, Footwell, Footwell.  Cra. 
Seignor Rufflit; I am a fool if I took you not for a Physician.  Ruf. 
She wrote to me, that I should come in this habit.  Cra. 
Right Sir, to avoid suspect: For which cause she has counterfeited herself sick, and lies longing and languishing till you minister to her.  Ruf. 
And am I come pat? am I come i'the nick?  Cra. 
Your Fortune sings in the right Cliff, sir, a wench as tender as a City Pullet.  Ruf. 
But not so rotten.  Cra. 
Oh sir, health itself; a very Restorative. will you in? The way lies open before you.  Ruf. 
Hold Footwell, tell that till I return— from branching the most merited Cuckold crazy. Poor Snake, that I must force thee to cast thy Skin. And he were not a Citizen I could pity him: He is undone for ever. Methinks I see him all ready make earnest suit, to wear a red Cap, and a blue Gown; comely to carry a Staff-torch before my Lord Mayor upon Allhallown night. Watch Footwell, I mount.—  gives him money. Exit. Cras. 
But now, if the agitation of my Brains should work through my Brows. If my Wives pitiful hand should fall to composition with my doctor's Pate, and my deceit be discovered before the Bastinado had given charge to his Shoulders, were not my Forehead in apparent danger. 'tis done in three minutes. Death, my Courtier has a sanguine Complexion: He is like a Cock sparrow, Chit, Chit, and away. Heart o' man! And I should be blown up in mine own Mine now! Ha.  Ruf. 
within, Hold Mrs. crazy. Dear Bridget. Help Footwell.  Cra. 
Ho the hubbub's raised, and my fear's vanished.  Enter Josina, and Bridget beating Rufflit: Crasy takes Bridget's Cudgel, and lays on. Jos. 
Out you Pisspot-caster.  Bri. 
You Suppository.  Jos. 
You Glister-pipe, thinkst to dishonest me?  Ruf. 
Hold, dear Lady— I am—  Jos. 
A stinking saucy Rascal thou art, take this remembrance.  Exit. Cra. 
Hold, sweet Mistress.  Ruf. 
Oh I thank you good Mr. Footwell.  Cra. 
Oh, it is not so much worth verily.  Ruff. 
Oh, but 'tis sir.  He draws his Sword from under his Gown. Crasy closes with, and disarms him. 
Rogue. Rogue.  
Nay prithee sweet Rascal, Pox on you, I did not mean to hurt you, my honest Vagabond, tell me, tell me: Come, who was't put this Trick upon me. Thou art a precious Villain: Come, whose device was it? Whose plot. At whose Suit was I cudgeled? Who made me feign myself a Physician, till I must be forced to go to the Surgeon? And darest tell me?  Cra. 
Nay, than I will tell you. Dare! why 'twas your Friend and Rival, Sir Andrew Ticket.  Ruff. 
Ticket.  Cra. 
Even he sir. His Gold hired me to gull you. And this brain procured your beating. Yes faith sir, Envy, bribes, and wit have wrong upon you.  Ruff. 
Well, if I revenge not—  Cra. 
But how sir.  Ruff. 
ay, afore Heaven, that's well thought on. Give me but the means, and I will not only forgive, but reward thee richly.  Cras. 
Come faith, because I would have both your Shoulders, go in one Livery, I must disclose. Why sir, Knavery is restorative to me, as Spiders to Monkeys. The poison of wit feeds me.  Enter Ticket. Boy with a Torch. 
Look you sir, he's come. Stand close, take this Cudgel, grasp it strongly, stretch your Sinews lustily; And when you see him hang by the middle in a Rope, let your Fist fall thick, and your Cudgel nimbly.  Ruf. 
And soundly. My ambitious blows shall strive which shall go foremost.  Cras. 
Good sir.  Ruf. 
draw him up but half way.  Cra. 
So sir, I must up to receive.—  Exit. Ruf. 
Do so: I shall be so revenged now! He had been better ha' been taken in Bed with another man's Wife, then have prevented me thus.  Tic. 
Vanish Sirrah with the Light. This I am sure is the Window which her Letters called me to.  Ruf. 
I would you would begin once, that I might be at work. I do not love to stand idle in the Cold thus.  Tic. 
Hist, Footwell, Footwell.  Crasy 
above: Here sir, here. O I watched to do you a good turn. Will you mount sir?  Tic. 
I will mount, remount, and surmount. I wonder that there is not a solemn Statute made, that no Citizen should marry a handsome Woman; Or if he did, not to lie with her. For and 'twere not for Gallants help, they would beget nothing but Fools.  Crasy lets down a Rope. Cra. 
Right sir, right sir. Take the Rope, and fasten it about your middle sir.  Tic. 
Why, that's crazy; a very Coxcomb.  Cra. 
An Ass, an Ass.  Tic. 
A mere Citizen. Were't not a shame his wife should be honest? Or is't not pity that my own man should wholly enjoy a rare excellent proper woman. when a whole Corporation scarce affords two of them.  Cra. 
Most true sir. Now mount sir. I pluck courageously. Pray Hercules my strength fail me not.  Ruf. 
Up sir, up sir.  Rufflit cudgels him. Tic. 
Pox, and pain! Hold Doctor.  Ruf. 
Save you sir.  Tic. 
I am most sensible of your Salutation. Pluck Footwell.  Cra. 
Alas the Cord sticks-sir; I'll call some help sir.  Crasy comes down. Tic. 
Death and Devils!  Ruf. 
Fists and Cudgels.  Tic. 
Heart, Lungs, Lights.  Ruf. 
arms, Shoulders, Sides.  Tic. 
Help, help, help.  Enter Crasy. Cra. 
Passion of Heaven Doctor: I'll Doctor you away.  Exit Rufflit Tic. 
Redeem me dear Footwell  Tra. 
Yes sir I come for the same purpose. Alas sir, methinks I even feel your blows. Are you not sore sir?  Tick. 
Sore? Couldst thou not pluck?  Cra. 
Sure I was Planet-struck; the rope stuck in a slit Sir.  Tic. 
A Pox o'the slit, say I.  Cra. 
Know you this mad Doctor? Or do you owe any Doctor any thing?  Tic. 
I know him not; nor do I owe any Doctor any thing; I only owe my Barber-Surgeon for a diet-drink.  Cra. 
Speedily make up your face Sir, here comes company: M. Rufflit!  Ent. Rufflit in his own shape. He hugs and shakes him. Ruf. 
Honest Footwel! how dost? Sir Andrew! Heartily how is't?—  Tic. 
As heartily as thou wilt; but not so hard I prithee.  Ruf. 
Why what's the matter?  Tic. 
I bruised my side e'en now against a form's edge.  Ruf. 
Parmacety, Sir, is very good, or the fresh skin of a flead Cat?  Tic. 
Flayed Cat?  Ruf. 
The fly-blows of a dead dog, made into oil, and spread upon the kell of a mesel hog.  Music. Cra. 
Hark Gentlemen, the Wedding comes, forget old bruises, and put on sense of the lightest colour: for this house tonight vows to run giddy with mirth and laughter.  Enter Lights: Sarpego, Toby, Tryman, La. Ticket, Pyannet, Snerkup. Ruf. 
Joy, health, love and children to this happy union.  Tic. 
Unbruised bones, and smooth foreheads to you both.  Py. 
What shall no device, no mirth solemnize my son's match? Go Sneakup, call down our daughter.  Exit Sneakup. 
In despite of sickness, mirth and joy shall make this night healthful.  Try. 
O mother, cold sobriety and modest melancholy becomes the face of the Matron; unedifying gauds are Profane vanities. Mirth is the fat of fools, only virtue is the nourishment of purity and unsinning sincerity.  Py. 
By the leave of your wisdom daughter, we'll take the wall of your preciseness: for Mr. Sarpego has told me of a learned subject for a Ballet, which we shall see acted presently.  Try. 
What is it, some Heathenish Play?  Sar. 
No certes, but a very religious Dialogue, full of nothing, but moral conceits betwixt Lady Luxury, a Prodigal and a Fool.  Try. 
But who should act and personate these?  Sar. 
Why in that lies the nobility of the device; it should be done after the fashion of Italy by ourselves, only the plot premeditated to what our aim must tend: Marry the Speeches must be extempore. Mrs. Bride would I have to play Dame Luxury, and Mr. Footwell here the Prodigal.  Py. 
And my husband the Fool.  Enter Sneakup, Josina and Bridget. Sneak. 
ay, an't please you wife.  Sar. 
I'll play the Inductor, and then we are all fitted.  Try. 
I pray you what is Lady Luxury? A woman regenerative.  Tob. 
A Whore, wife:  Sar. 
In sincerity not much better than a Courtesan; a kind of open Creature.  Try. 
And do you think me fit to represent an open Creature? Saving your modesties, a Whore. Can I play the Strumpet, think ye?  Jos. 
Trust me Sister, as long as it is done in private, in ones own House, and for some few selected gentlemen's pleasure; Methinks the part is not altogether the displeasingst.  Try. 
Modesty defend me! you think 'tis nothing to play the Strumpet.  Sar. 
Why surely religious Lady, it can be no disgrace to you to figure out the part: For she that cannot play the Strumpet if she would, can claim no great honour to be chaste.  Bri. 
How gravely and sententiously he speaks.  Tob. 
Wife, it shall be so: It is my first Injunction; you shall do it, or disobey me. You must play it.  Try. 
What, the Whore sir?  Tob. 
ay, in jest: What hurt is't? And Mother, you shall excuse my Father for this once: For since my wife plays the Whore, I'll play the Fool myself. Though, I know, you had rather see him do it, you shall see for a need, I can make shift to perform it as well as he; as naturally, and to the Life.  Sar. 
Exceeding well thought on, I pray you, Lady, approve of it.  Py. 
Let learning direct, I am not to prescribe to the Muses.  To. 
Come sweet heart, let's in and tire us, and be ready to enter presently.  Sar. 

I fausto pede— Ex. Tob. Try.  
Now for the Prodigal.   Cra. 
O doubt not, Mr. Sarpego: For know Sir, I am but a poor serving creature, that lives upon expectation; Oh Sir my end must be husks. Fear not my discharge of the Prodigal—  Exit. Sar. 

Nil nisi Carmina desunt.  
To entertain ye, while we attire ourselves.  
We want but now some Music, or a Song,  
But think you have it. Sat: we'll not be long.—   Exit. Py. 
Seat you Gallants. Sit, sweet Sir Andrew, Madam, and the rest, and we'll imagine Music, as M. Sarpego bids us.  Enter Linsle wolsey, and Crack with his Lute. 
How now! By what misrule comes he to trouble us?  Lin. 
By your leave, Gallants, I have brought you Music.  Py. 
You Sir, I know your purpose, and it is prevented; you come after the Marriage to forbid the banes. Ha ha ha— you are short, M. wolsey, you are short.  Lin. 
Good Mrs. Sneakup you are wide. I come to wish joy to the match, and to tell you I rejoice, that I missed a bridegroom's part.  Py. 
How's that?  Lin. 
You see I wear no Willow, and am merry. All's true you told me, boy?  Crac. 
Yes by my detestation to Bridewell Sir.  Lin. 
Sing boy that song, If I have any grief, it shall be all vented in a Hymeneal Song.  Tic. 
I have not known him in this humour.  Ruf. 
Sure 'tis a merry madness for the loss of the widow,  Py. 
Since you come friendly, you are welcome, M. wolsey. Pray sit with us, and hear your Hymeneal Song.  Crack sings. 

Jo Hymen, Jo Hymen, Jo Hymen Py. This begins well.  
Was wont to be still the old song  
At high Nuptial Feasts  
Where the merry merry guests  
With joy and good wishes did throng:  
But to this new Wedding new notes do I bring,  
To rail at thee Hymen, while sadly I sing.   

Fie o Hymen, fie o Hymen, fie o Hymen,  
What hands, and what hearts dost thou knit?  
A Widow that's poor,  
And a very very Whore,  
To an Heir that wants nothing but wit?  
Yet thus far, O Hymen, thy answer is made,  
When his moans are spent, they may live by her trade.   Py. 
He sings Hymen and Hymen; but methinks the song is scandalous to the Marriage.  Lin. 
Excuse me Lady, though I was cozened of the Bride, I have no such malice; 'tis a song that the boy could sing by chance, and made by a couple that were lately married in Crooked-Lane.  Py. 
O, is it so Sir? I knew not what to make of it.  Flourish. Enter Sarpego, the Prolocutor. Tic. 
Let us attend I pray; the Prologue enters.  Sar. 

Right Country Dame, and Courtly Lady,  
Look for sense as small as may be;  
But, if wit deceive your thinkings,  
Know our Muse disdains base shrinkings.  
Hold a while your Verdicts bridle,  
Judge not yet our Project idle,  
Till at length the close may show it,  
If we act the part of Poet.   Enter Tryman and Toby. She loosely dressed like a Courtesan, a bowl of wine in her hand. He in a fool's Cap and Coat. 

Speak Lechery and Folly, Luxury I would say;  
I need not prompt them, they know what they should say.   Try. 
Out you base Rascal, you muddy Slave; thou hast married me, and I will drink a health to thy Cuckoldmaker.—  She drinks it off. To. 
'sfoot I am afraid she'll play the whore better than I shall act the fool.  Try. 
Thou under-hearted, dull-blooded Pantaloon; thou whose utmost honour is to be made so good a thing as a Cuckold; thou son of a Copyholder, and the Pudding-pie woman's daughter, dost thou think, dar'st thou but imagine, that I shall ever vouchsafe to love to do any thing, but laugh at thee? Hence you Poultroon; thy voice sounds not so far as thy breath stinks— Kicks him.  To. 
Nay but, nay but do you hear wife? I do not very well like this; methinks you play too much in earnest.  Try. 
In earnest? Why Goodman Fool, you Cock, you Ninnyhammer, you Clotpoll Country Gentleman, thou dirty greediness.—  Py. 
Why how now daughter? Are you well? Methinks you overdo it too much.  Try. 
Thou dreamest my good husband, that thou hast married the rich widow, ha ha ha—  Sar. 
Now enters Prodigality.  Enter Crasy in his own habit, all hung with Chains, Jewels, Bags of Money, etc. Cra. 
When the troth is, dear brother, you have married the rank whore. Ha ha ha.  To. 
Sir!— who, brother crazy?  Jo. 
Sweet husband!  Py. 
Dear son!  Tic. Ruff. 
Precious friend!  Lin. 
Neighbour Crazy!  Sar. 
Dij boni! Domine Crazy!  Cra. 
And how do you wife? When comes your Doctor Pulse-feel? But a kiss and so forth? And would not one of these free Gallants, these proper youths have served the turn? I pray pardon mine incivility, Mother; I was bold to retain mine own Jewels. Ha' you not forgot your singles and your doubles, your fallings back, and your turnings up wife?  Jo. 
Why i'faith, dear heart, dost think me so simple, that I did not know thee all the while? Alas man, I did but counterfeit, as you did, to maintain the jest; kiss me sweet duck— only to maintain the jest i'faith.  Cra. 
Yes, yes, yes, we are Friends. I heartily thank these kind Gentlemen for their loves to you, yes saith, heartily: I am better by it five hundred at least. Be not you jealous madam, they had nothing for it; not a bit by this Light.  Ruff. 
Death o'my Fortune! that was my Gold.  Tic. 
Plague of a Villain, that was my Jewel.  Cra. 
True Gentlemen; and your bounty likewise lies in this Bag.  La. T. 
Sir, we sent these things to your Wife.  Cra. 
I thank you for it; we have but one Capacity in the Law, you know: What's hers must be mine. I know thou wouldst have it so sweetheart. I am only sorry Gentlemen, that you were so well favouredly beaten. That the Fool Citizen, the Ass Citizen, the Cuckold Citizen should procure such a sound swaddling to your wise, valiant and substantial Shoulders. Is't not a sore matter? But rest, Salves and warm Oils may in time recover it.  
How do you kind Mother? Gentlemen, if any of you want Money Gentlemen, here stands a City-wit that has it. I have it, if you want any; speak, I have it, and will keep it. How does your Costard Sir? A Pox o'th' Slit, Sir. Beloved of Phoebus, Minion of the Muses; dear water bailie of Helicon, be not proud of your Preferment, though you are his highness' tutor. Mother, I take the restoring of my rich Jewels very kindly. O my kind Brother, you have got the rich Widow; and you have borne a brain Mother. Your hundred pound, brother, was most thristily and opportunely bestowed. I could ha' procured her to you at an easier rate, Mother. I am only sorry for you Mr. Wolsy, that you had her not: Because you very honourably released me of your Bond before it was due; and are in shrewd danger to be laughed at among your Neighbours.  
How does good Mr. crazy, the PRINCE's Jeweller? Mother, did not my Father look too wise for a Citizen? How dost honest Punk? I am as much beholden to thee, as to the rest o' them.  Py. 
My son and my heir is utterly undone.  To. 
O! I am quite cast away.  Cra. 
O no, you shall be no loser by me; you shall be a gainer by me Brother: Get wit Brother (mark you) wit. Good faith I pity the poor Citizen, he has no wit; a handsome young fellow, with a pretty beard, and a proper bodied woman to his wife, and cannot bear a brain!  Try. 
Why dost hear, modestly mumping Mother-in-Law, with thy French-hood, gold-chain, and flaggon-bracelets, advance thy snout. If the fool thy son, the Idiot my husband here, have but as much brains as a Battledore, he may make a fair revenue of me: Has he not a place at Court? Can he not lodge me there, and prove weak-sighted, thick of hearing, sleepy after dinner, and snort when others entertain and Court me? Can he not survey the hangings, read Cupid's Conybery, the Park of pleasure, Christian Love-Letters, or some other Pamphlet, or fain some errand into the Town, whilst his brows are turning into gold?  Py. 
O impudence beyond woman's apprehension! Son Crazy, we have all wronged thee, thou know'st it; thou hast revenged it, we feel it; only do not undo my heir, save him, bring him but off o''is match with any loss.  Cra. 
Why mother, is your son grown such a saucy Knave, as he thinks scorn to be a Cuckold? I cannot clear him; in truth I cannot: He has paid for her deeply, and 'tis pity they should be parted, yes faith is't.  Py. 
Woman, we do pray thee, we do beseech thee, even upon our knees— have pity on the house of the Sneakups: quit my son, relinquish thy right, make frustrate this marriage, and look thee, before these able witnesses, we heartily forgive all, and forget: And withal, freely bestow this chain upon thee—  Py. and Tob. kneel. Pulls off her chain and gives it. Try. 
I do receive it.  To. 
She does receive it, bear witness all, she does receive it.  Try. 
Marry on this condition—  To. 
No I'll no more marries nor conditions, you have received it.  Py. 
ay, you must make frustrate the Marriage; for look you, you have received it.  Try. 
I will, and freely do; only the condition I would have made, is this, That if you intend longer to be Master of your husband, now that you have seen how well it became me, you will henceforward do as I do— Look you, wear breeches.  pulls the coats up, and shows the breeches. Py. 
O horrible!  To. 
How! do you wear breeches?  Try. 
Yes Sir, breeches; and as good lining and stuffing in them, I hope, as yours have, though they be of Satin.  To. 
I'll feel that: 'sfoot mother this is a man. Come and feel else.  Try. 
A young one Sir.  Puts off his headdress. 
See Master your poor servant Jeremy, if he has performed his part, desires to be admitted into the Livery of wit, and to wear this chain as his ensign of Freedom.  
Omnes Jeremy!  To. 
Jeremy! O Jeremy! thou were't ever too hard for—  Try. 
Except at spoonmeat, Sir.  Jo. 
jeremy!  Try. 
Yes, Mistress: Indeed forsooth.  Cra. 
Well, give me thy hand: I will love thee as long as there is swiftness in meditation, smoothness in flattery, or constancy in malice.  Py. 

And for the cure that he has wrought on me,  
I will applaud his wit; and bless the light  
It gave me to discover my foul error:  
Which by his demonstration showed so monstrous,  
That I must loathe myself, till I be purged.  
Sir, by your fair forgiveness, which I kneel for—   Sneak. 

Heaven make me thankful: Wife I have no words  
To show how I rejoice: Rise, let me kiss thee—   Sar. 

Tempora mutantur. The town's ours again.  
Only, to fill the Scene with joy, may we  
Conjoin sweet maid, in the Catastrophe.   Bri. 
Would you that have taught Greek, and whipped great boys, come back to your Hornbook, and let down your Gascoines to me, that would, if I had you, be more tyrannous than any Pedant that ever reigned since the days of Dionysius: Besides here is my choice, with my Master and Mistress's leave, Jeremy's brother.  Cra. 
But is he seriously thy brother?  Try. 
Yes, and no more a Pimp Sir, than I am a Wench.  Cra. 
Well, Mr. Sarpego, I'll help you to a fitter match, and Crack I will give thee something with her: Take the security of my hand.  Crac. 
I only desire to be secure from this man's fury, and so consequently from Bridewell.  Cra. 
He shall have nothing to say to thee.  Lin. 
I will have nothing to say to man, woman, or child, while I live again.  Sar. 
Fortuna nihil aufert sapienti: Fools and Fiddlers are her Favourites.  Cra. 
Let us make this a merry night.  

Think of no losses. Sirs, you shall have none;  
My honest care being but to keep mine own.  
What, by my slights, I got more than my due,  
I timely will restore again to you.   
Omnes, Thanks kind Mr. crazy, thanks.  Sar. 
Gratias vel ingentes Domine crazy.    

Epilogue.  

NOw let me scholasticwise  
For us all Epiloguise:  
If these slender Scenes of Wit  
Are received, as they were writ,  
For your mirth, and no offence;  
Let your Grace quit our suspense  
With applaused Catastrophe.  
I am short, wi'ye (as you see)  
There a Figure, which pray note ye,  
Sic valete valetote.   

Gratias Reddo Cuicunque.  
Valetote Iterumque.   
FINIS.