THE NEW ACADEMY, Or, the NEW Exchange.  
By RICHARD BROME.  
LONDON, Printed or Andrew Crook, at the Green Dragon in Saint Paul's Church-yard: And Henry Brome at the Gun in Ivy-lane. 1658.   


The Actors Names.  
Sir Swithin Whimlby, a melancholy Widower. Suitor to the Lady Nestlecock.  
Old Matchil, a Merchant that married his Maid. Gabrialla's Guardian.  
Young Matchil his son.  
Old Lafoy a French Gentleman, Guardian to young Matchil.  
Young F. Lafoy his son.  
Mr. Hardyman, Captain Valentine's Father-in-law. Hannah's father.  
Strigood, half brother to Matchil.  
Valentine Askal, son-in-law to Hardiman. Hannah's half-brother.  
Erasmus a young Gentleman, his Companion and Friend.  
Cash, matchil's Prentice.  
Nehemiah Nestlecock, a foolish Gentleman, the Lady's son.  
Ephraim, the Lady Nestlecock's Servant.  
Rafe Chameleon an uxorious Citizen.  
A Footpost.  
Papillion Two Monsieurs, alias Philip Matchils and Lafoy's sons Galliard Frances   

Women.  
Lady Nestlecock, a fond Mother.  
Joyce, Matchil's Daughter. Foster Sisters. Gabriella, Lafoy's Daughter.  
Mrs. Blithe Tripshort, Sir Swithin Whimlby's Niece.  
Hannah, Chameleons wife, Captain hardiman's daughter.  
Maudlin, matchil's Maid and Wife.    

THE NEW ACADEMY, OR, THE NEW EXCHANGE.  

Act. I.  Valentine, Erasmus. 
IS this the entertainment you promised me in the Jovial Merchant's house? Is this the great interest you have in his huge hospitality? when by half an hour's attendance and entreats, we cannot obtain the sight of him.  Er. 
I wonder at it; Sure some strange disaster has suddenly befallen him. He was, last night the merriest man alive, drank healths; told tales; sung Catches; troll the Bowl; Toss the canikin; and what not! and all for joy, that his son, he said, was upon his return, whom he has not seen these dozen years, since he sent him a little Lad into France, to be bred there.  Val. 
I heard he did so; and that in lieu, by way of Exchange, he brings up the daughter of the Parisien that breeds his son.  Er. 
Right.  Val. 
But is that daughter so exquisite a creature, as is this Merchant Matchill's own whom you so much extol?  Er. 
They are both so equally handsome, and virtuous, that, be their dowries so, and their consents alike, I'll take my choice of cross and pile for either, with such a friend as thou art.  Val. 
Troth, and that's friendly spoken, Mus.  Er. 
It is so Val. yet not with some policy do I wish thee a fortune: for, insooth. young Gentleman, though I like your person, and some of your qualities, yet by reason of your wants, I find you something heavy on my purse-strings; and myself scarce able to supply you. And, if we fail of good matches, I must even turn you over shortly to the hopes you host of in your City-Mystresses and tradesmen's wives—.  Val. 
Peace, prithee hold thy peace.  Enter Cash. 
Friend Cash! Is your Master, Mr. Matchill yet at leisure to be seen?  Cast. 
He much desires, sir, to be held excused. 'Tis true that he invited you. His dinner's ready; and his heart welcomes you. But he has met with an unhappy news today.—  Val. 
I feared some ill. What is the matter?  Cash. 
His only son, whom he of late expected home out of France, we hear, is dead.  Val. 
His daughter will prove a bouncing match then.  Cash. 
That's the impression the heavy news makes in you, Gentlemen.  Er. 
Come, let's go.  Cash. 
Nay, Gentlemen, although my Masters sudden sadness shuts him from you. His meat and wine are ready. There are some good company in his Parlour too, Pray stay.  Val. 
Are his fair daughter, and the french-born  
Damsel there to be seen?  Cash. 
Both. Pray be pleased to enter.  
I hope his passionate fit ere you have dined will be passed over. He is not wont to suffer long under the hand of sorrow.  
'Tis like that you shall see him ere you go.  Er. 
In that fair hope we'll enter and fall to.  Ex. Val. Er. Cash. 
'Tis like you shall fall short though of your aim  
At my young Mistress, who by this black news,  
Becomes my Master's heir, and so the white  
That all the gallant suitors of the City  
And Court will level their keen shafts at. Where  
Are mine own hopes then, that stood as fair  
In competition for her, love as any,  
When the great noise of her inheritance,  
Shall drown each lover's tongue, that cannot say,  
It is a lord's at least, I rather wish  
The young man had not did.  Enter Strigood. Stri. 
Where's my Boykin? my Friskoe? my Delight? my Cash? by what better name can I call thee?  Cash. 
O me! Master Strigood, what make you here?  Stri. 
I come to comfort my brother in his sorrow.  
His son is dead, they say. Ha! Is't not so?  Cash. 
And he is almost dead with sorrow: Back sir.  
The sight of you, that are his sole vexation, will make him mad.  Str. 
That is my way to cure him.  
Madness drowns grief in any man.— Probatum.  Cash. 
Good Mr. Strigood depart.  Str. 
Good Mr. Cash, and Mr. Matchils man.  
I'll see your Master. What! deny his brother?  
His noun natural brother? By the surer side too  
We tumbled in one Pannier; though we had  
Two Rippiers, Sweet sir, I am the elder too  
Strigood was in my mother before Matchill  
Therefore, because I have spent an estate  
And he has got-one, must not I maintain  
myself the better man?  Cash. 
Yes: if you had the wherewithal.  Str. 
Sir, you had been as good ha' held your tongue.  
Lend me some money Cash.  Cash. 
I have no money, sir, but what's my Masters.  Str. 
Whose money, sir, was that you played last night.  
Among the Knights and Braveries at the ordinary?  
Gold by the handfuls, Cash! Lend me two pieces.  Cash. 
Speak lower, sir.  Str. 
Lend me three pieces, Cash.  
Before I speak too loud, whose money's that  
You use to wear abroad at Feasts and Revels  
In silver lace and satin; though you wait  
At home in simple Serge, or broadcloth, sir.  Cash. 
Be not so loud, I pray.  Str. 
Lend me five pieces.  
I shall grow louder else. Who pays your Barber?  
I mean not for your Prentice pig-haired cut  
Your wear at home here; but your Periwigs;  
Your locks and Lady-ware that dangle in 'em,  
Like straws in the bush natural of a Bedlam?  Cash. 
What mean you Mr. Strygood.  Stri. 
I mean ten pieces now; I'll go no less. Do not I know your haunts?—  Cash. 
You may; you trained one to 'em  Str. 
Do not I know your our leaps, and vagaries?  
Your tiring houses, where you shift yourself,  
Your privy lodgings, for your trunks and punks?  
Your midnight walks and meetings? Come, the money.  
And, hark thee, though thou modest my brother by't.  
I'll keep thy council: thou shalt find me virtuous.  
I want, he gives me nothing; and thou canst not  
Do him better service, then relieve his brother.  Cash: 
I am in; and must, to hide my old faults, do  — Aside. 
Like an ill Painter, daub 'em o'er with new.  Str. 
Quickly. I shall grow loud again else Cash.  Cash. 
Sir, I am in your hands, here are ten pieces.  
I hope you will not thank my Master for 'em.  Str. 
No; no for all he has that comes through thy hands.  
My nimble Cash; and from his I am sure,  
Though I were starving, I should finger nothing.  Cash. 
Will you go now?  Str. 
I'll see him ere I go,  
And dine, if there be meat i'th' house. What eats  
Are there within I'll draw a knife among 'em.  Ex. Cash. 
This desperate old Russian, would undo me,  
But he hopes to waste his brother by me.  
He has spent himself to beggary; and would fall so,  
But that he has pernicious fire in's brain,  
That raging spreads to ruin others with him.  
I must beware of him,  Enter Lady Nestlecock, Ephraim. 
Is she come too?  
Then 'tis decreed, my Master must, from sorrow, suffer in madness.  La. 
Go home Ephraim.  
And have a care you suffer not my boy  
To Straggle forth 'mong his unhappy play-mates,  
For fear of mischief.  Eph. 
It shall be my care.  — Ex. La. 
What do you lock up my brother, ha?—  Cash. 
H' has locked himself up, Madam; and will suffer  
None to come at him, till his sorrowful fit  
Be somewhat over.  La. 
not's own Sister, ha?—  Cash. 
Nor his half brother neither: yet he's here.  La. 
Is he here, ha? That Strygood? Is he here?  
Hang him old reprobate. And beshrew thy heart,  
For a young varlet, to call him our brother.  
It is no marvel, if my brother Matchil  
Lock up himself, and such a wickedness  
Be in his house, as is that Strygood, ha—  
Let him take heed, he comes not in my Nail reach,  
And call me Sister, or my Brother, brother,  
Like a debauched old Villain, as he is.  
O that my husband Nestlecock were alive,  
But for three minutes, to send him to  
Newgate, if he presume to call me Sister  
But I command you in my husband's name,  
Who was a Justice, when he lived, to thrust him  
Out of your Master's doors, my brother's house.  
Lest I be sick with the loathed sight of him.  
You will not disobey this, will you, ha?—  
If not, why stir you not? ha.—  Cash. 
I must remove  
This fit of hers. There's but one way to do it;  
And that's to talk of her white boy, she's fond on.  La. 
Will you not send him packing, ha?—  Cash, 
First, Madam.  
(By your good ladyship's leave) how does your son  
Sweet Master Nehemiah Nestlecock?  La. 
I thank you courteous friend. In truth, last night,  
One of my Coach-geldings fell lame, and I,  
By that constrained to come afoot,  
Was forced to leave my boy at home; or else  
He had come with me, to have been a comfort  
To his sad Uncle: But I would not now  
For twice my gelding's price, my child were here;  
And that foul fiend i'th' house, whose very looks  
Would fright him into sickness.  Cash. 
O good Lady!  La. 
I can't so soon forget the fright he took  
At seeing the roguish Juggler once eat tow,  
And blow it out of's mouth in fire and smoke,  
He lay a fortnight by't.  Cash. 
That's two years since.  
And he was then but young, he's now a man.  La. 
Alack a child; but going in's nineteenth year.  
Where's my Niece Joyce?  Cash. 
Within there Madam; so is Gabriella  
The French young Gentlewoman to attend you.  La. 
I'll stay with them till I may see my brother.  — Ex. Cash. 
I hope old Strygood, who now on the sudden  
Hath slipped her memory, meets her by the ears first.  Enter Matchil, an opeu letter in his hands. 
But the good minute's come, before I looked for't.  
My Master now appears. He looks most sourly  
Expressing more of anger then of grief.  
I fear, old Strygood was so loud with me,  
That he hath overheard us, and I shall break  
Before I am a Freeman.  Mat. 
Sorrow be gone  
And puling grief away, whilst I take in  
A nobler and more manly Passion;  
Anger, that may instruct me to revenge.  
My child is lost by treacherous neglect  
In that false Frenchman, to whose seeming care  
I trusted the chief comfort of my life;  Matchil reads. 
My boy. Nay, read again. 'Tis written, here,  
He was grown man:  Cash. 
His man, I think, he said.  Cash listens to Matchil, and speaks aside. 
Does your man trouble you. I do not like that  Mat. 
And here he writes that in his youthful spring  
And heat of spirit, he began to grow  
Intemperate and wild—  Cash. 
Wild! Are you there?  Mat. 
Which drew him on to riotous expense—  Cash. 
And there again, to riotous expense!  
'Tis I directly that he's troubled with.  Mat. 
And sometimes into quarrels. What o' that?  
In all this he was still mine own. O boy—  Mat. kisses the paper. Cash. 
Some slave has writ some fearful information.  
Against me, and he hugs and kisses it.  Mat. 
And had his Guardian had a feeling care  
(Hang his French friendship) over my dear child,  
As I had over his, these youthful follies  
Might have been tempered into manly virtues.  Cash. 
I hear not that.  Mat. 
But I fall back again  
From my revenge to grief. Away; I will not.  He reads again. 
Here's the death-doing point. These slight disorders.  
In my young forward son (I find it here)  
Were, by his churlish and perfidious Guardian,  
Interpreted no less than Reprobation,  
And, by his ignorant cruelty, so punished.  
For, here he shuts his ear and door against him:  
When suddenly the loose licentious world  
Soothes on his youthful, in judicious courage  
To imminent destruction; so being engaged  
In a rash quarrel, he in duel fell.  
Th' Opponents sword was instrument; yet I infer.  
Lafoy, his guardian was his murderer.  
Farewell, my boy; and this is the last tear  
Thou shalt wring from me. Something I'll do,  
Shall show a father's love, and valour too.  
I'm young enough to draw a sword in France, yet.  
But first— Come hither, Sirrah.  Cash. 
Now it comes.  Mrt. 
I purpose straight to order my estate  
Look that you forthwith perfect my Accounts;  
And bring me all my books of debtor and creditor,  
Receipts and payments, what you have in wares,  
And what in cash, let me inform myself.  Cash. 
'Tis as I feared.  Mat. 
I'll set all right and straight,  
All statutes, bonds, bills, and sealed instruments  
That do concern me, I have in my Closet  
Or at my Counsels, or my Scriveners.  
I'll call in them myself. Why dost thou look so amazedly?  
Wouldst have me yield a reason? why, I'll tell thee  
I mean to make a voyage; and, perhaps,  
To settle and proportion out my estate  
By Will, before I go. Do you as I command you.  Cash. 
Whatever he pretends, I know his drift:  
And, ere I'll be discovered by my stay;  
Being run out, I'll choose to run away.—  Ex. Mat. 
My daughter in the first place must be cared for.  
I'll make her a good match. My next in blood then,  
My Knave-half-brother, and my whole fool-Sister.  
But the best is, her Ladyship has enough;  
And all I have, in strygood's hands, were nothing.  
Therefore I'll purpose nothing to him. Oh.  Enter Joyce and Gabriella. 
The Joy and Torment of my life, at once  
Appear to me. I must divide them, thus.  He thrusts off Gabriella. 
Hence hated issue of my mortal foe  
Whom I have fostered with a parent's Piety  
As carefully and dearly as mine own.  
While the inhuman cruelty of thy Sire  
Has to untimely death exposed my son.  
Thank me I kill not thee; so leave my house.  
There's French enough in town, that may befriend you.  
To pack you o'er to Paris; what's your own  To Joyce. 
Take w'ye, and go. Why cleave you to her so?  
Forsake her, cast her off. Are not my words  
Of force, but I must use my hands to part ye?  Jo. 
Dear, honoured father, I beseech you hear me.  
In parting us you separate life from me,  
And therein act a real cruelty  
On me your only child, sharper than that,  
Which you can but pretend done by her father.  Mat. 
Durst thou speak so?  Joy. 
I cannot live from her.  Mat. 
O monstrous. Pray, your reason. Why not live?  Joy. 
You know, Sir, from our Infancy we have been,  
Bred up together, by your tender care  
As we had been twin-born, and equally  
Your own; and by a selfsame education,  
We have grown hitherto, in one affection,  
We are both but one body, and one mind,  
What Gabriella was, I was, what I, was she.  
And, till this hapless hour, you have enjoined me,  
Nay, charged me on your blessing, not to arrogate  
More of your love unto myself, then her,  Mat. 
That was, 'cause I presumed her father loved,  
Or should have loved my son, your brother.  Joy. 
I never knew brother, or sister, I;  
Nor my poor self, but in my Gabrella.  
Then blame me not to love her, I beseech you  
— Upon me knees.  Mat. 
Th' art knee-deep in rebellion.  
Unnatural gipsy, since thou provest my torment  
In being the same with her; and hast declared  
thyself no more my child, than she, whom now  
I do abhor, avoid, with her, my sight.  
Rise, and be gone, lest thou pull curses on thee  
Shall sink thee into earth.  Gab. 
O rather, Sir.  
Let me, 'gainst whom your fury first was bent  
Suffer alone the sharpness of your vengeance:  
And let it not be said ,'cause you surmise,  
My father lost your son, that, therefore, you  
Have cast away your daughter. Hurl me, rather,  
Into the ruthless waves to seek my way;  
Or do but take her, hold her in the arms  
Of your paternal love, and I'll take flight  
To wean her to you.  Joy. 
She cannot, may not leave me.  Mat. 
Out of my doors then, with her.—  Enter Lady Nestlecock. La. 
What's the matter? ha—  Mat. 
Such as you cannot mend, dear Lady Sister.  
What come you hither with your Ha— for? Ha—  La. 
To comfort you, dear brother, if you'll hear me.  
Your son is dead, they say; and here I find  
Your daughter is rebellious 'gainst; our will.  Mat. 
You speak much comfort, do you not, think you.  La. 
But is it so Joyce? ha!— I thought you, Joyce,  
Would have rejoiced your father in obedience, Joyce;  
And not afflict him with your stubbornness.  Mat. 
O this impertinent woman!  La. 
But my brother,  
Let me advise you, rather than suffer her  
To be an eyesore to you, put her out,  
Where she may learn more duty. If you please  
I'll take her home, and show her how it should be  Mat. 
Yes, as you have shown your Nestlecock, your son.  La. 
ay, there's a child! Brother, you'll pardon me,  
If I aspire in hope, that he shallbe  
Your heir, if Joyce miscarry in rebellion.  Mat. 
And therefore you would breed her. How the devil  
Works in a covetous woman! Though a fool too.  
Your son's an Ass; an Idiot; and yourself  
No better, that have bred him so. Do you tell me  
Of your sweet sugar-chopped Nestle coxcomb?  La. 
Ha—  Mat. 
He's fit t' inherit nothing but a place  
I'th' Spittle-house, fool's College, yond, at Knightsbridge.  La. 
And did I come to bring thee consolation?  
Now let me tell thee, I rejoice in thy  
Just punishment, thy scourge of crosses. Thou,  
That for these six years' space, until this day,  
Hast kept continual feast and jollity  
For thy wife's death, who was too good for thee.  Mat. 
Right, for she was my Master, a perpetual  
Vexation to me, while she was aboveground  
Your Ladyship could not have spoke more comfort to me  
Then the remembrance of that shook-off Shackle,  
Which now, in my affliction makes me smile,  
And were I on her grave, I could cut capers.  La. 
A further punishment, I prophesy  
Grows in the neck of thy lewd insolence  Mat. 
I could e'en find in heart to marry again,  
In spite, now, of thy witchcraft, my son dead!  
My daughter disobedient! and your child  
A very chilblain. What have I to do  
But marry again: all women are not devils,  
I may yet get an heir unto my mind.  Enter Strigood. Mat. 
Art thou here too—  Stri. 
Stay, you forget your brother, Mr. Matchil.  
You have matched ill once already; and take heed  
You match not worse, your children, though untoward.  
And taking of the devilish Shrew, their mother,  
Were likely of your own begetting; Yet  
Your second wife may bring you a supply  
Of heirs, but who must get them, first is doubtful.  Mat. 
Thy impudence amazes me.  Str. 
Ha, ha.  La. 
I'm sick at sight of the lewd Reprobate.  Stri. 
d'ee cast about for heirs; and have besides  
Your daughter here, a brother and a sister?  La. 
Call not thyself our brother. He appears  
unkind to me, but thou insufferable,  
I loathe to look upon thee.  Stri. 
He has spoke  
Against her Aunt, her Mooncalf son. I'll make her love me best, and presently.  
Brother, I say.  Mat. 
I cannot look upon thee.  
Provoke me not to speech, I charge thee.  Str. 
Give me leave to speak; Hold you your peace;  
Hear but my brotherly advice; and when  
Give your consent in silence.  (Mat.) 
hum hum, etc.  La. 
Hear him not.  (Mat.) 
Nor you neither, hum— hum— hum.  La. 
I am not angry with you now; and therefore  
I charge you, hear him not.  (Mat.) 
hum hum—  Stri. 
My advice is thus, that for your daughter's good.  
For mine own good, and for your sister's good.  
And for her son, your Nephew's good.  La. 
How's that? ha!  Stri. 
And chiefly for your own good, and the credit  
A wise man would desire to hold i'th' world,  
Think not of marrying, nor of buying horns  
At the whole value of your whole estate,  
But match your daughter while you have the means  
In your own hands; give her a good round portion,  
Here are deserving Gentlemen i'th' house.  
Next, think of me your brother, that has spent  
In downright fellowship (heaven knows what  
All fraudulent purposes to make any man  
A miser or a gainer by't) a fair estate.  
And now do want a brotherly supply.  
A hundred a year or so: but above all  
Fasten your land unto your sister's son.  
That hopeful Gentleman, sweet Nehemiah.  (Mat) 
hum.  La. 
Now brother you may hear him.  Stri. 
What though it straggle from the name of Matchil.  
Remember yet he is your mother's Grandchild.  La. 
Why d'ee not hear him, brother?—  (Mat.) 
hum.  Stri. 
As I hope  
To be a landed man myself,  
Had I a thousand yearly, I would leave't him.  La. 
Truly, I thank you. Now I'll call you brother.  
You're a good natured Gentleman if you had it.  
Come home, and see my son.— Will you not hear him? ha  Mat. 
I need not, nor yourself. I see you gape  
Like monsters that would swallow me alive.  
I know your minds; and I will do mine own.  
And, thus it is. Stay, let me stay a little.  La. 
Look you how wild he looks.  Stri. 
He's falling mad.  
Stark staring mad,  La. 
I would he had a wife then,  
For nothing else can tame him.  Mat. 
So it shall be.  
First, I'll be Master of mine own estate.  
Next—  Stri. 
Take a wife to master that, and you.  Mat. 
Next, you Mademoiselle, (on whom with patience  
I cannot look) forsake my house, and suddenly;  
Linger not for a man to wait upon you,  
But let your black bag guard you, 'tis a fashion  
Begun amongst us here by your own Nation.  
And if I longer must call you my daughter,  
Forsake you her.  Joy. 
What mine own heart? dear Sir.  Mat. 
At your own choice. I can force her departure,  
Though not persuade your stay, determine quickly  
Either to leave her, and enjoy a father,  
Or never more expect a father's blessing.  Gab. 
Dear, mine own heart, leave me, obey your father.  Joy. 
It must be to my death then.  [Weeps Mat. 
I'll be sudden.  
Therefore be you as brief in your resolve.  La. 
Alas, poor hearts. Just so loath  
To part was I and my son Nehemiah  
Today when I came forth.  Stri. 
Niece Joyce, let me  
Advise you.—  Mat. 
Pray, Sir, none of your advices.  
Let her advise herself; whilst I impart  
To you my next intention; which is thus.  
To end your strife for shares in mine estate  
I'll venture on a wife: indeed I'll marry  La. 
Will you so? ha!  Mat. 
Yes indeed La,—  Stri. 
If then  
You'll estate nothing on me for my life  
Give me a see to help you to a wife,  
I can, a good one.  Mat. 
I'll none, Sir, of your good ones.  
Besides, Sir, I'm provided.  La. 
You are not, are you? ha  Mat. 
Let it suffice, I say't, so quit my house.  Stri. 
Shall I expect then nothing?  Mat. 
Pray sir, do.  
'Tis all I can afford you. You have wit,  
Yes, you can dance, tread money out of rushes,  
Slight and activity to live upon.  
A nimble brain, quick hands and airy heels  
To get a living.  Stri. 
Hah.  Mat. 
Pray fall to practice.  Stri. 
I may, sir, to your cost, if you put off  
Your daughter with her Sweetheart, her Mon Coeur  
There, as she calls her. Dear, my Lady Sister;  
You see how churlishly this Merchant uses us.  
He has forgot, sure, he was borne a Gentleman.  
Will you be pleased, I speak to you in your ear.  La. 
Any way, brother Strigood, Hang him, Nabal,  
To warn me out o's house; and not alone,  
To turn a stranger from within his gates,  
But offer to cast out his child too, ha!  Stri. 
'Tis about that I'd speak, pray Madam hark you.  Enter Erasmus, Valentine. Er. 
Noble Mr. Matchil, though we are your meat  
Before we saw you you will give us leave  
To take our leaves, and thank you ere we part.  Mat. 
O Gentlemen.  Val. 
We've heard your cause of sorrow.  Mat. 
But I have overpast it. Hark ye Gentlemen  Eras. 
You'll give us leave first to salute the Ladies.  Mat. 
Nay, if you love me, hear me first.  Er. Val. 
Your will, Sir.  Talk aside. La. 
Niece, you shall no way disobey your father  
In being ruled by me.  Stri. 
So, so, it takes.  La. 
You and your second self shall home with me  
Until his furious humour be blown over.  
To which the first means is to shun his sight,  
And then let me alone to make your peace.  Joy. Gab. 
We thank your Ladyship.  La. 
So let us slip.  
Home to my house together.  La. 
Hist brother, lead the way.  Stri. 
As glad as ever Fox was of his prey  Exit. om. Pet. Mat. Er. Vab. Mat. 
'Tis even so, Gentlemen, sorrow finds no lodging.  
In my light heart sometimes she knocks at door,  
And takes a drink, but here she must not sit by't.  Val. 
You're happy Sir.  Er. 
Yet I have heard you say  
You never tasted joy for divers years  
Till your wife died: since when, a King of mirth,  
And now to marry again is such a thing.  Mat. 
Yes sir, 'tis such a thing that I will marry  
That I fore know can never disobey me  
And I'll defy the devil to dishonest her.  Er. 
Is she so ugly?  Val. 
No, he means so virtuous.  Mat. 
Well-said, sir, you shall drink before me. Rachel, Maudlin.  
'Protest you shall though't be in my own house.  Er. 
Now he resumes his humour.  Mat. 
Rachel I say,  
Bring me a can o' sack.  Er. 
But how can you  
Presume before the dangerous marriage-trial  
That she whom you've chosen will be obedient.  Val. 
D' ye think he has not tried her? There's a question  Mat. 
Well-said again. I was about to say so.  
Rachel, some sack, I say. Yes, I have tried her, sir,  
Tried her, and tried her again; all over and over  
These five years' day and night; and still obedient.  Er. 
Then you are sure to her.  Mat. 
No, I never used  
A marriage-question, not a-wooing word,  
But do all by command, she is so obedient.  Val. 
And yet she's chaste and virtuous withal.  Mat. 
Well-said again, sir, so I was a saying.  Er. 
But we have talked away the Gentlewomen.  Mat. 
No matter, let 'em go. Would they were far enough.  Ent. Rach. Enter Rachel, silver Can and Napkin. 
Come, the sack, the sack.— Who taught you that courtesy maid.  
Pray try a better to the Gentleman.  
Protest you shall begin.  Val. 
In your own house, sir?  Mat. 
I'll rather gi' ye my house, then break my word in't.  Val. 
You're Lord here, and may command me, sir. And so my service to you.  Mat. 
I'll do you reason, sir.  — Val. drink. 
Be ready with your Napkin, and a lower duck maid.  
I'll hang dead weight at your buttocks else. So.  
Is not this obedience, Gentlemen, Mr. Erasmus?  
Mus, I will call thee Mus, I love to be  
Familiar, where I love; and Godamercy  
For your friend here; you both shall see my daughter.  
But my French Damosel and I are parted  
I hope by this time. So here's to you Mus.  Er. 
To me, to me, to me.  [M. drinks. Mat. 
Ha boy, art there? dispatch  
Your curtsy quickly, and go call my daughter.  [Er. drinks Rach. 
She is gone forth, forsooth.  Mat. 
Forth, ha? when? whither?  
La ye, she thinks I'm angry, and the finger  
Is in the eye already. Is not this  
Fear and obedience, Gentlemen? who went with her.  Rach. 
She went with my Lady Nestlecock, to bring Gabriella on her way they said.  Mat. 
I would  
They were all in France together.  Er. 
What, your daughter?  Mat. 
She comes again, I doubt not. Dry your eyes.  
And drink that sack, without a curtsy, drink it.  
You do not know my meaning, Gentlemen.  
Stay: now gi' me't again.— Now go and dry  
Your face within— without a curtsy? ha!  Ex. Rach. 
Now is not this obedience, Gentlemen?  Val. 
But this is not the rare obedient piece  
That you will marry?  Mat. 
You do not hear me say so.  
But I presume, as much obedience  
In her I have made choice of.  Er. 
Marry a maid.  
And we will be her henchboys, if you please.  Mat. 
No, I'll have no such blades 'bout my wife's haunches.  
But come, to end this tedious Scene, in which  
I ha' passed the Purgatory of my Passions  
Of sorrow, anger, fear, and hope at last.  
I am refined, sublimed, exalted, fixed  
In my true Sphere of mirth; where loves my object.  
And bloody thought of black revenge cast by.  Val. 
Could your fair breast harbour a bloody thought?  Mat. 
For some few minutes, in which ecstasy  
I meant t' ha' gone, as other Gallants do.  
To fight in France, forsooth, and charged my man  
To draw up his Accounts, call in my moneys,  
Thought to have made my Will—.  Er. 
I saw your Cashier  
Go forth e'en now with a strong lusty Porter  
Loaden with money: I will not say my teeth  
Watered at it.  Val. 
But 'twas enough to make  
A very true man's fingers itch.  Mat. 
I cannot  
Think he is run away; but yet I like not  
His carrying forth, when I say, fetch in money.  
But this is from my purpose. Love ye mirth?  
Let's in, and drink, and talk. That gives it birth.   

ACT. II.  

SCENE 1.  Camelion. Hannah. Cam. 
I prithee now, I prithee, prithee now  
Urge me no more in this case; for I cannot,  
Nor I wo' not so I wo' not, I be jealous  
of mine own wife, mine own dear flesh and blood?  
That's such a thing! I pidee speak no more on't.  Han. 
You show you love Rafe.  Cam. 
So I hope I do Nan.  
My cock, my pity nittle nansie cocksy,  
Do I not show my love when I deny thee  
Unreasonable requests? I never heard  
Of woman that desired a loving husband  
To be a jealous Master over her.  
Especially a City-Shopkeeper.  
The best part of whose trade runs through the hands  
Of his fair wife too! 'Tis unreasonable.  
And thou the sirst that e'er take up the humour.  Han. 
And you the sirst that e'er I knew besotted  
Into a wilful confidence, which renders  
Me to a vile construction; and yourself  
By leaving me to all assaults and hazards  
Have got the reputation of a wittol.  
Or one that seems contented to become so.  Cam. 
Hon soit qui maly ponse.  
My Cock, my Nansie Cock, my cocksy Nansie,  
Kiss me, and use thine own conscience: I scorn  
The yellow sickness, ay, let 'em all say what they will.  
D'einty, come thou to me. I will not lose  
An hair's breadth o' my humour, nor retain  
An ill thought o' my cock's honesty  
For all the wealth i' the Exchange, not I  Han. 
I not desire you should, but only that  
You will not seem so careless of my credit,  
Exposing me to all temptations  
Of the wild Gallantry of the wanton time.  
By whom (although my chastity remains  
Untouched) my name and your discretion suffers.  Cam. 
Pish, Honi soit again: Cock, I defy  
Calumniation and detraction I.  
When I am jealous, let the horn-curse take me;  
And let me be with hornets stung to death.  Han. 
Still you fly from the point, I would not have  
You vex yourself with causeless jealousy  
Over my constant love; but only seem  
A little watchful o'er my reputation.  
Whereby you may decline men's lewd attempts.  
And not to throw me upon opportunities  
To draw them on; as if I were a thing  
Set out, as in your shop, for common sale.  Cam. 
Cock, Thou shalt never tie me to't: not I.  
I must not lose my harmless recreations  
Abroad to snook over my wife at home.  
Thought'st ha' me like the hare-brained Point-tagger,  
That used to hammer his fingers at one end  
O'th' shop, while's wife was bargaining at the other?  
Not I; sweet Cock, pidee let's hear no more on't.  Enter Foot-post. 
Now friend! Is your business to me or my wife?  Post. 
This Superscription will inform you, sir.  Cam. 
To my dear daughter Mrs. Hannah Chameleon, at her shop or house in or near the New Exchange.  Cock. 
Take it quickly, what a Knave art thou to put a letter in my hands, that is directed to my wife. Sbobs I would not ha' opened it for forty pound.  Post. 
If all husbands in the City were of his mind, it were a Forest of fools indeed.  Cam. 
Cock, I must leave thee.  Han. 
Pray stay a little. This letter's from my father.  Cam. 
I hope the good captain's well.  Han. 
Yes, very well, pray read his Letter here.  Cam. 
Cock, you shall pardon me. Not I.  
I have a match to play at the duckingpond.  
Prithee foreslow not my occasions, Cock,  
As I forbear to pry into thy secrets.  Han. 
Here's nothing but what I would have you see.  
There's for your postage, friend. It needs no answer.  Post. 
I thank you, mistress.  Ex. Han. 
But if you will not stay to read this Letter.  
You shall not deny me one thing.  Cam. 
What is it, quickly? my sweet Nanny Cock.  Han. 
Here, take this pen: write here a word or sentence.  
What you please. But keep it well in mind,  
And look that you be sure to know't again  
When I shall show't you.  Cam. 
'Tis done, there: I defy, and dare the devil and all his Clerks to counterfeit my hand. So, my sweet Cock, a kiss and adieu.  Han. 
Well Rafe, remember that you won't be jealous.  Cam. 
Not I, Sbobs yonder comes one of the Blades,  
That thou wouldst have me have an eye to; He  
That lives by his wits, and yet is seldom sober:  
That goes so gallantly, and has no credit,  
Nor ever buys with ready money; But  
Barters commodity for commodity.  
(Such as it is) with tradesmen's wives, they say.  
What call you him, oh Askal; there's another  
Comes with him too. Into thy shop, good Cock.  
I wo' not stay, not I. So, farewell Cock.  Ex. Han. 
And farewell coxcomb, some wife would say now.  
I am much troubled at his silliness.  
And would to right me, strain a woman's wit,  
Knew I with modesty how to answer it.  
Something I'll do.  Enter Erasmus, Valentine. Er. 
Was ever such a humour in a man, as this mad  
Merchant Matchil is possessed with.  
To marry so, to spite his child and kindred.  Val. 
He has made his daughter by't a match worth nothing.  
And there your hope is gone.  Er. 
And yours in me.  
For as I said before, good Valentine.  
I must return you to your City wives.  
By the old trade to pick your maintenance  
Out of 'em, as you boast you can.  Val. 
'Tis well, sir.  
And now to let you know that I can live  
Without the helps of such cool friends as you.  
I'll show you a present probability.  Val. 
Dost see yond pretty mumping piece i'th' shop there?  Er. 
Yes, is that one—?  Val 
One o'th' forty, boy,  
That renders tribute in to my Exchequer.  Er. 
Didst ever lie with her?  Val. 
How plain you are. Not I, not I.  
That's her fool-husband's word.  
Let it suffice that I have seen her thrice.  
And that I lay with, drink, and wear her money.  
O 'tis the sweetest Rogue.  Er. 
How got you acquainted.  Val. 
I'll tell you that, walking by chance as now,  
Before her shop, where a young Gentleman  
Was bargaining, he called me by my name,  Val Askall. 
Instantly her eye was fixed,  
And straight ran over my delineaments,  
Which I set to her view; and took occasion  
To ask her how the object pleased her.  Er. 
Boldface.  Val. 
I never lost by that.  
She then demands, Is your name Askall, sir?  
I answer, Yes. Pray of what country, sir?  
I told her; when a sudden flaming blush  
Did in her face betray the fire of love,  
That was at th' instant raging in her breast,  
She looked me through and through. Sighed, turned away.  
Then looked again under her hat-brims thus.  
And thus I nimbly catched her with mine eye.  Er. 
ay, thou hast a devilish catch i''at same eye.  Val. 
Sir, what I have, I have. I gave a leer  
With that same eye that made her turn her whites up.  Er. 
But to the point.  Val. 
Why do you think a woman's so quickly brought to th' point?  Er. 
What followed then?  Val. 
I saw she was struck, and thus I gave her line  
To play withal. I whispered in her ear,  
The way to find my lodging and my service.  
Next morning early comes a message to me,  
Inviting me to dinner: Cheer and welcome  
Plenteously flowed; and sir, before we parted  
Upon some private conference, twenty pieces  
Were clutched into this hand, but with a caution  
To be discreet and thrifty of her purse,  
And keep a friend in store. I have been modest,  
And have not struck her since, but for ten more.  Er. 
And that's your last.  Val. 
I le hold you ten uh that  
See she has spied me.  Han. 
What lack ye, Gentlemen; fair cutwork bands, boot-hose, or boot-hose tops, shirts, waistcoats, nightcaps, what will you buy?  Val. 
I come not now to buy.  
But in plain terms to borrow. Do you not know me?  Han. 
Not on these terms.  Er. 
Sure thou mistak'st the woman.  
This is not she, thou talk'st so freely on Bounce.  Val. 
She's cautious before thee. Walk off a little.  
Now you may hear me, Lady.  Han. 
Give me leave  
A little, first to wonder at your rashness,  
To talk so openly before a stranger.  Val. 
My intimate friend: I'll trust him with my life.  Han. 
What's that to my unblemished reputation?  
'Tis not your life can salve that, being wounded.  
But thus it is, when women out of goodness  
Hazard their fortunes to relieve the wants  
Of such as you, that carry no respect,  
But to your own licentious Appetites.  
And think no favour's sweet, unless you may  
Have privilege to boast 'em to our shame.  Val. 
I do not boast of yours.  Han. 
Pray, boast no more  
Than you have found, and much good may they do you.  
'Tis not poor thirty pieces can undo me.  Val. 
No, nor ten more I hope; and that's the sum  
I would entreat: all makes but forty pound.  
I'll pay thee like a Gentleman, as I am one,  
Either in money; or dost hear me, Rogue,  
In what shall please thee better. Come, be wise,  
Thy husband's a dull ducking Gamester. And  
Kennels his water-dog in Turnbull-street.  
We'll answer his delights with better sport.  Han. 
There's your presumption.  Val. 
No, 'tis my ambition.  
When shall we walk to Totnam? or cross o'er  
The water, or take Coach to Kengington  
Or Paddington; or to some one or other  
O'th' City outleaps for an afternoon,  
And hear the Cuckoo sing to th' purpose? when?  Had. 
A woman were a wise one that would trust  
herself in such wild hands as yours; to have  
Her name made Tavern-talk among your blade,  
And thrust i'th' list of your loose-hilted Mistresses:  Val. 
O no; fie no: you cannot think how close  
And careful I will be. Hark in thine ear.  Er. 
I cannot blame this fellow now so much  
For using of his wits to get his living,  
Though in an idle way; as for traducing  
People of worth and virtue, as this woman  
Who I am credibly informed is virtuous  
And too discreet for him to shark upon.  
Therefore to grace himself, he slanders her.  
I have always liked his company till now,  
And shall hereafter be more wary of him.  Han. 
Well sir, upon your faithful protestation,  
And vow of secrecy, here's ten pieces more.  
You have found a tender-hearted woman of me  
Over your wants; and all the satisfaction  
That I desire, is, that I may not suffer  
Under a lavish tongue; 'tis easy payment.  Val. 
Yes, but I'll pay thee better. Therefore tell me, when we shall meet and have a spir't abroad.  Han. 
Your friend stays for you, sir.  Val. 
Pish, let him stay.  Han. 
You slight him now, but he knows all your Counsels.  Val. 
By this good tongue, no more than the unbegotten Hans that I mean to clap into thy Kelder.  
Nor ever shall: dost think I am so foolish  
To talk away my hopes? No, thou art my Fairy,  
Pinch me to death when I discover thee.  Han, 
Go to, avoid suspicion then, besides  
I have occasions that do call me hence.  Ex. Er. 
Your stay was somewhat long.  Val. 
Yet 'twas to purpose.  
As here you may behold, but I must make no words on't.  [1. 2, 3, 4, etc. 
She has enjoined me that. O 'tis a cunning gipsy.  Er. 
So't seems, by trusting thee that hast no power to keep a secret.  Val. 
Troth, to tell you true.  
My conscience will not bear't, I cannot be  
So ungrateful to receive a courtesy,  
But to acknowledge it.  Er. 
Yet thou hast the conscience  
To work a man's estate out of his hands  
By his wife's frailty, even to break his back.  Val. 
'Tis rather to be feared she may break mine.  
She's a tight strong docked Tit.  Er. 
O Tradesmen, why do you marry?  Val. 
Why? to make Tradeswomen.  
For Gentlemen that want money and commodity.  
You know the thing that I call father-in-law,  
That had my mother's whole estate, and buried her,  
Allows me nothing.  Er. 
Thank your own sweet courses.  Val. 
My courses are sweet courses, they serve me to live upon.  Er. 
But I shall put you off  
O'one of your sweet courses, or at least  
I'll strain a point of friendship to be satisfied  
Touching this woman, 'twill be worth discovery.  Val. 
But why these cloudy looks? do not you like my courses? ha!  Er. 
I cry thee mercy, Val.  
I was upon our former subject Matchil.  Val. 
I there's a hasty match clapped up. You asked  
Why Tradesmen marry, there's a marriage now!  
A humorous coxcomb that could never laugh  
In all his last wives days; and since her death  
Could ne'er be sad. For him to marry his Malkin  
For poor and coarse obedience. Well. I hope  
To take my course in his house yet for all.  
Her boasted chastity and obedience.  Er. 
Wouldest thou touch such a thing?  Val. 
What, not for money?  
She can pay well and her ugliness cannot fright me  
I can do that work winking.  Er. 
She can be no such woman.  Val. 
Tell not me  
What any woman can or cannot be,  
You'll give me leave to try my fortune with her,  Er. 
Yes, and walk with you towards it.  Ex. Ambo.  

Scoen. 2.  Enter Lady Nestlecock, Ephraim. La. 
No news, no tidings of 'em, Ephraim, ha!  
Was even such a scape?  Eph. 
Not since the Rape  
Of Hellen I'm persuaded. I have searched  
With narrow eyes (as I may say) with care,  
And diligence in most secret places.  
And can no way inform myself, what is  
betid of the young Damosels, or old Squire.  
Your Niece, and the French Virgin, and the man  
Unworthy to be called your brother Strigood.  La. 
O hang him Villain.  Eph. 
Doubtless 'twas his plot  
To work upon your ladyship's good nature  
To harbour them, that he might take th' advantage  
Of stealing them away.  La. 
What to do, ha?  Eph. 
To do? much may be done by his seducements,  
On two such tender Virgins, though he should  
But plant them in our suburbs: but my fear  
Is that he has transported them beyond seas  
Into some Nunnery. Your Ladyship  
Knows he is adverse in Religion.  La. 
I know he is of none.  Eph. 
Satan will work.  
The stronger in him, then to their subversion.  La. 
How shall I answer now my brother Matchil?  
But he is justly served to marry so.  
The thought of it torments me. Where's my comfort?  
Where's Nehemiah, ha?  Eph. 
He's busy, Madam.  La. 
What, at his book? or at his music, ha?  Eph. 
That is, his Ballet, or his Jew's Trump. No,  
Madam. He is busy at his exercise of Arms  
With a new Casting top, a Cat and cat-stick,  
I bought and brought him home.  La. 
I thank you for 'em,  
My careful discreet Ephraim. I like  
His harmless exercises well.  Eph. 
I hope,  
Your Ladyship can say since I have had  
The Government of him under your Ladyship,  
I have been careful of the Gentleman,  
And have his love withal so much, that I  
Dare say (I hope you'll pardon the comparison)  
That had you married me (which was as likely  
As that your brother would have ta'en his Maid.  
I think that Mr. Nehemiah would not  
Have run away in hatred of our Match,  
As Mrs. Joyce. it seems, hath done of theirs.  
I hope your ladyship's pardon, I understand  
My duty.  La. 
And you speak but reason Ephraim.  Eph. 
I have given her there a touch of my affection.  
Who knows how it may work?  La. 
Go call him in.  
I would not have him over heat himself.  Eph. 
'Tis a good care. And Madam, by the way,  
Let me advise, that since his riper years  
Require, and that fair Propositions  
Of marriage are tendered for him, that  
We gently by degrees, do take him off  
From childish exercise, indeed plain boys play.  
More manly would become him.  La. 
You would have him  
Do worse then, would you? and be nought, you varlet?  
What! would you have him play at Mans-game, ha?  
Fore he be married, ha! what, what! how now!  
Is it but up and ride w'ye, ha!  Eph. 
I humbly  
Beseech your ladyship's pardon, I will call  
Sweet Mr. Nehemiah to your worship.  La. 
Go, thouart an honest man. I know thou lov'st him.  Ex. Eph. 
Indeed he's all my comfort and my care  
And I must naturally respect all those  
That do partake with me my care of him.  Enter Nehemiah, looking down and eating. Neh. 
my boy Negh, Son Nehemiah.  Neh. 
Forsooth.  La. 
That's my good Lamb. Hold up thy head; and thou.  
Shalt have a wife.  Neh. 
But mother f sooth, when I have her,  
Will she play with me at peg-top?  La. 
At any thing, my boy.  Neh. 
And she ha' not good box and steel, I shall so grull her.  
And then at Mumbledepeg I will so firk her.  La. 
But when you're married, you'll find other pastime.  Neh. 
whate'er I say, I have a meaning though.  
But yet, I doubt, I shall not forsake all  
My old vagaries in a year or two.  La. 
I know thy will is good to leave thy wag-tricks.  
And I commend your understanding in it.  
It shows you man, and ready for a wife.  Neh. 
Amardla, forsooth, I think so; I Amardla.  
For I did beat a boy as high as myself  
Yesterday, with one hand.  La. 
Where was thy t'other.  Neh. 
The boy had but one hand forsooth. I used both.  La. 
Well thouart too witty to live long, I fear.  
But as I was saying, son, I do expect  
Sir Swithen Whimtby to bring his Niece.  Neh. 
Who f'sooth, the crying Knight, he that has wept  
e'er since his Lady died; and mourns in colours;  
Speaks nothing but in verse, and gives me Ballads;  
The old Knight Powel, that pronounces what d'ee call 'em?  La. 
Odes child and Elegies. He has been inspired.  
With the infection of Poetry,  
e'er since his wife's departure: and 'tis thought  
Nothing can put him out, or cure him of it  
But a new wife to kill the furious itch of't,  Neh. 
But is not his Niece too big for me? I would be loath  
To be overmatched.  La. 
O witty, witty, still.  
But when she comes Nehemiah, what'll you say to her?  Neh. 
I'll give her the time of the day or the night  
I warrant her, come at what hour she will.  
Why if I eat not all before she come.  
(And she must try her, if I don't) I'll ask her  
If she can speak with plums in her mouth; and then  
I'll offer her a long one and two round ones,  
And nod at her.  La. 
You will not, will you, ha?  Neh. 
Mother, I know both what to say and do  
I trust I am not to be taught to woo.  La. 
Too witty still, I say, to be long-lived.  Neh. 
But hark you mother forsooth; I am told that you  
Bear a month's mind to that Sir Whimlby,  
And a cross match is talked on betwixt you  
And the old Knight, and me and his young Niece.  
O ho— is't so?  La. 
This is no crafty child.  Neh. 
Let me but see how you will handle him now  
And mark how I'll come over her with small Jerks.  La. 
O thouart a witty wag. A blessing on it.  Enter Ephraim, ushering Whimlby and Blith. Eph. 
Madam, Sir Swithen Whimlby and his Niece,  
Mrs. blithe Tripshort.  La. 
They are very welcome,  
Noble Sir Swithen.  [Kiss. Neh. 
Noble Mrs. blithe.  [Kiss. La. 
Sweet Knight, you're welcome.  Neh. 
Welcome, sweet Lady.  La. 
Still weeping.  Whi. 
O good Madam.  Neh. 
Still weeping for a husband.  Bli. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Neh. 
Mother, she puts me on't,  
She laughs.  La. 
Laugh with her then.  Neh. 
Amardla, so I will, and if you laugh  
At me, I'll laugh at you again, so I will.  Bli. 
Ha, ha.  Neh. 
Are you there with me? I'll be here with you then.  
Will you eat any Sugar-plums? no, I'll eat 'em for you.  
There's ha, ha, ha, ha, for you now.  La. 
Do you note, Sir Swithin, what a wag it is.  
Walk into the next room Nehemiah. Did you note him?  Ex. Neh. Blith. Whi. 
Madam, to tell you true.  
My love to you  
Springs from the joy,  
I take in your sweet boy  — Eph. And that's the way to win her. 
I can take no delight  
But in his sight,  
Nor any pride  
Since my dear Grissel died,  
In all, I see on earth or find in books,  
But that which overcomes me in his looks.  La. 
O sweet Sir Swithen, you have all wooed and won me.  Eph. 
Then all my hopes are frustrate.  La. 
My son shall have your Niece, and for mine own part.  
You loving him so well, of what's in me.  
I can deny you nothing.  Whi. 
Gentle Madam.  Eph. 
She offers up herself; now may the proverb  
Of proffered service light upon her.  La. 
Nay, Sir Swithen.  
Let me entreat you to leave weeping now.  Whi. 
Madam, I cannot so  
Forego my woe.  
For while I strive  
My solace to revive,  
I do but still restore  
My grief, before  
That did betide  
When my dear Grissel did.  
And when your Ladyship appears in sight.  
(Pardon) I cannot choose but cry outright.  La. 
Alas, good Knight. He weeps pure Helicon.  
He has not wherewithal to quench his love,  
But his own tears. A wife would cool him better.  
Why sir, does sight of me renew your grief?  Whi. 
O Madam, Madam, yes;  
In you the bliss,  
That I do miss,  
I find enshrined is.  
And till, to ease my pain,  
I shall regain  
In you the Bride,  
That in my Grissel died.  
So oft as she in you to me appears  
My numbers cannot cease to flow in tears.  La. 
Good sir, collect yourself, and be assured  
I am your own, so Neh. may have your Niece,  
With her full Dowry of four thousand pounds.  
My personal estate is full as much.  
That and myself are yours on the cross marriage,  
You making me an answerable Jointure.  Eph. 
Is't come so near; I'll cross it, or my star  
Drop crosses on my head. O vain, vain woman,  
To dote on Poetry in an old man.  
Lady's may love it in the young and bold,  
And when they are sick give galley-pots of gold,  
For cordial Electuaries to cheer  
Their cropsick Muses; but to an old and sere  
Man that outlives his labours, who can be  
So vain to give herself away but she.  
I had been sitter for her, and I'll watch  
Occasion yet, perhaps, to cross the match,  
I can turn Poet too.  Ex. La. 
Dry now your eyes, and answer me in prose,  
Are you content to yield to those conditions  
I have propounded, ha!  Whim. 
I am content.  
And now for joy could weep,  
Finding my Grissel in your Ladyship.  La. 
I hope the young ones do accord as well.  Enter Nehemiah, Blith. Bli. 
Protest, I cannot abide you.  Neh. 
Nor I you.  
Amardla, that I cannot.  Whim. 
They're agreed.  
Madam, it seems they both are of one mind.  La 
I do not like it. What's the matter Nehemiah?  Neh. 
She is no wife for me, she has broke my Jews-trump; look you here else. And almost broke my head with one of my bounding stones.  La. 
Bless my boy; she has not, has she, ha!  Neh. 
And yet after all that, and for all I offered to teach her to shoot in my Trunk and my Stone-bow, do you think she would play with me at Trou, Madam? no, nor at any thing else. I'll none of her.  
And yet I'll have her too. If she will promise to do as I would have her hereafter.  La. 
There, do you note him there, Sir Swithen?  
This child has no childish meaning in't, I warrant you.  Whim. 
No Madam, no, I know him inwardly  
He is my joy, and she shall be conformable,  
Or fare the worse.  La 
She will, I know she will.  
Will you not have my son, sweet Mrs. blithe?  Bli 
Sweet Madam, what to do? ha, ha, I shall be quickly weary with laughing at him. His fooling will soon be stale and tedious; and then to beat him would be as toilsome to me; and lastly, to be tied to nothing but to cuckold him, is such a common Town-trick, that I scorn to follow the fashion.  La 
Can she talk thus? ha!  Whim. 
A merry harmless Girl.  
Fear not, good Madam, she will come about.  Bli. 
A thousand mile about rather than meet him.  La. 
I much desire she would; for now my son  
Is set a marrying, I warrant it pure thing  
It is in pain, till it be at it: ha!  
Pray bring her on, Sir Swithen, let him kiss her.  
Poor heart, he licks his lips; and look how arseward she is.  Whi. 
Fie blithe, be courteous, blithe.  Neh. 
Mother,— she has spit Amard just in my mouth.  Bli. 
Amard, what's that? if you speak French you wrong me.  La. 
Gip, Mrs. Tripshort. Is this the manners your Mother left you?  Bli. 
Speak not you of Mothers, Madam.  La. 
Sir Swithen, will you see my child abused so, ha?  Whim. 
I can but grieve for't, Madam.  Neh. 
My mother is as good as your mother, so she is, for all she's dead.  La. 
ay, well-said Neh.  Bli. 
Yes, it appears in your good breeding  
Your fine qualities express her virtues sufficiently.  La. 
How dare you housewife talk thus to my son, of me, and before my face too? ha! Sir Swithen, can you think well of me, and suffer this, ha?  Whim. 
Alas, good Madam, I am down again I know not what to think of living woman now.  La. 
Do you bring your Niece to abuse me?  Whim. 
I am so drowned in tears, that I cannot see what to say to't.  Neh. 
Mother, Amardla, the more I look on her, the better I like her.  La. 
Sayest so, my boy. Besides, I have a conceit she can outscold you, and that's more than ever woman did, I think forsooth.  La. 
For thee, I do forbear her.  Enter Matchil, Rachel. Mat. 
By your leave, my Lady Nestlecock, I have brought a sister of yours here to salute you.  La. 
Though unworthy to be of your Counsel, or at the Ceremony, I heard you were married brother. And by a sister's name you are welcome.  Rac. 
I thank your Ladyship.  Mat. 
Sir Swithen Whimlby! and your pretty Niece! well met, what affairs have you in hand here? what do you cry for your old wife still or for a new one? But hark, you Lady Sister, where's my daughter?  La. 
Now for a tempest. Truly sir, I know not.  Mat. 
Is she not with you, ha?  La. 
No truly, sir.  
She's slipped from me with her good Uncle Strigood.  Mat. 
That Thief has sold her then into some bawdy-house  
Was this your project for her education,  
To steal my child to make a whore of her?  
Are you turned lady-bawd now for your Niece  
Because you have no daughter? O the devil!  
If there be Law, I'll trounce your Lady Hagship.  La. 
What, what? how now? do you taunt me, sirrah, ha?  Mat. 
I'll make thee an example.  La. 
Thou hast made thyself an example, and the scorn of thine own child in marrying of thy drudge there; and that's the cause of her running away thou mayest think, because she hates to live where she must call her mother that was thy droil.  Ra. 
Droil, I think, she said.  Mat. 
Speak to her, I charge thee, on thy obedience to speak to her.  Ra. 
The droil is now your brother's wife, Madam, and in that setting your ladyship's lavish tongue aside, as good a woman as yourself, none dispraised, ha.  Mat. 
Well-said Rachel, hold thine own Rachel. And so to you, sir Sw then.  Neh. 
Mother, come away, mother.  La. 
By and by, my boy.  Rac. 
Do you presume to call me drudge and droil, that am a lady's Sister every day in the week; and have been any time these three days, ha.  Bli. 
That's not every day in a whole week yet.  La. 
Thou shalt not dare to call me sister housewife.  Ra. 
cod's so, and why trow? because a Lady scorns to be a housewife, ha. If you be no housewife, I scorn to call you Sister, I; though my husband be your brother. From whence came you trow, ha?  La. 
I know not what to say to the boldface.  Neh. 
Pray forsooth come away, I am afeared she'll beat you.  La. 
Thanks, my good child, but do not be afraid my Lamb.  Ra. 
Boldface, ha! Her brother's wife▪ s a boldface, but her face is not varnished over, yet like his Ladysisters face, but it may be in time when she learns the trick on't, and have as many flies upon't, though not so troubled with 'em, as a bald mare at Midsummer, hah.  La. 
I know not what to say to her, she has charmed the virtue of my tongue.  Mat. 
I never heard her speak so much in all her life, Sir Swithin, nor half so loud. thank heaven, she has a voice yet on a good occasion. And so far I'll maintain her in it. Nephew Nehemiah, when saw you your Cousin Joyce.  Neh. 
O Lud, O mother forsooth, look you, mine Uncle holds me.  Mat. 
Ah, naughty man, did a so gi'' me a stroke, and I'll beat it, ah—.  La. 
Your wife has taught you to play the rude companion, has she? Pray take her home sir, and let her discipline your own child if you have one, and let mine alone. You know the way you came, sir; or if you have a mind to stay here, Come Sir Swithen, come away children; I hope I shall find some other room in mine own house, free from your assaults, if not, I'm sure there's Law against Riots. Come Sir Swithen.  Mat. 
Not yet good Madam Nestlecock, you shall hear me.  
You have enticed away, then lost my daughter.  
And now you're a juggling with your widow wit,  
And your small worm here, to catch up for Gudgeons.  
Sir Swithen and his Niece, I know your plot..  
She's not fit match for you Sir Swithen; and her son  
Much less for your fair Niece. Come dry your eyes,  
And look upon him, and not only look,  
But laugh at him, I charge you.  Bli. 
I could now for him heartily.  Mat. 
Mark how his mother's milk drops at his nose, while I show you the mother and the child.  
He was her youngest son, and all that's left of seven, and dreaming that he needs must prove a Prophet, she has bred him up a fool.  Neh. 
Forsooth mother he mocks me, oh.—  La. 
O profane wretch, worse than thy brother Strigood.  
Do not cry, Nehemiah, peace, good boy, peace. So so.  Mat. 
A tender mother I must say she has been.  
For till he was fifteen, none but herself  
Must look his head, or wash his pretty face  
For making of it cry. Laugh at her good Sir Swithen.  
And before that, till he was twelve years old  
She would dance him on her knee, and play with's Cock.  Whim. 
Ah ah ah ah.—  Mat. 
So well-said, Sir Swithen.  Whim. 
Just so efac my mother would serve me, ha, ha.  
Is not this better than whining.  
Yes, or perhaps then wiving either.  Rac. 
Do you say so.  Wh. 
Ha, ha.  Mat. 
Well said, Sir Swithen, laugh on. I hope I ha' done a cure on him, by showing him a more ridiculous object then himself, to turn the tide of's tears.  Wh. 
Ha, ha.  Mat. 
Laugh still, defy the fiends, women, and all their works.  Wh. 
Ha, ha, ha, let the dead go, and the quick care for themselves. You buried your wife, and cried, and I buried mine.  
And laugh; which is the manlier Passion.  Ra. 
He knows not that he is married again.  Whi. 
You are the merriest Merchant, ha, ha, ha.  
I think I shall not marry again in haste, ha, ha.  Mat. 
Well-said, hold there. And for your Niece  
Let me alone. I'll fit her with a match.  
I know a Lad that's worthy of her.  Whi. 
Ha, ha, ha.—  Mat. 
He'll laugh too much, I fear.  Ra. 
He may at you,  
For your officiousness.  Mat. 
How's that?  Whi. 
Ha, ha.—  Ra. 
To thrust yourself into unthankful offices.  
In things concern you not. Will you turn Matchmaker  
For others unentreated, 'tis enough.  
For you, I hope, that you have matched yourself, ha.  Mat. 
Hah! Do you hab, or talk to me?  Ra. 
Who else  
Should talk or give you counsel but your wife?  La. 
Well-said Rachel, hold thine own Rachel.  Mat. 
I am matched again.  Whi. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Mat. 
Pax, cry again, or burst thyself with laughing.  Whi. 
La. Ha, ha, ha. Laugh son Nehemiah.  Neh. 
Ha, ha. ha.  Mat. 
What am I? what do you make of me?  La. 
Nay, what ha' you made yourself? best ask the Chimney piece that you have married there.  Mat. 
Durst thou advance a voice against me, ha?  Ra. 
You did commend it in me against your Sister.  
And I may better be familiar with you;  
Hah, are you not my husband? I am sure  
'Tis not so long since we were married, that  
You can forget it, or repent so soon.  
I am not now your slave, to have my face  
Washed with your snuffs, nor to be kicked and trod on  
Without resistance, nor to make you answers  
Merely with silent courtesies, run when you bid go  
To fetch and carry like your Spaniel,  
In which condition I lived long enough,  
And was content until you freed me out on't.  
Now free I am, and will be a free woman,  
As you are a freeman, ha.  Whi. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Mat. 
O base-born beggar.  Ra. 
You wrong your wife in that.  Mat. 
How she holds up the wife.  Ra. 
I never begged  
Nor moved a lip to be your wife, not I,  
You held my service portion good enough,  
And for my blood 'tis no more base than yours,  
Since both are mixed in marriage.  Mat. 
Come your way.  
And let me hear you speak so much at home.  Ra. 
I hope I may be bolder in mine own house.  
So Madam, for the love I have found in yours,  
You shall be welcome thither, when you're sent for.  La. 
What a bold piece of Kitchen-stuff is this?  
Brother you're matched.  Whi. 
And catched ifacla, ha, ha, ha.  La. 
He has not a word to speak.  Mat. 
Follow me home and durst.  Ex. Ra. 
Yes sir, I dare without more leave taking, ha.  Ex. La. 
Was ever comb so cut.  Whi. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha.  Neh. 
There's a new Aunt indeed! she brought me nothing.  Whi. 
I have not laughed so much I know not when,  
H'has made me laugh until I cry again.  La. 
Again, you are welcome, Sir, Mrs. blithe  
Now the unwelcome guests are gone, let's in  
And dine, then will we after meat  Whi. 
Of Jointures, Madam, and of Nuptials treat.  La. 
Right sir.  Bli. 
Love, as I shall adore thee for a deity.  
Rid me of this ridiculous society.    

Act. III.  

Scoen. 1.  Enter Matchil, Rachel, between Erasmus and Valentine. Eras. 
GOod Mr. Matchil.  Val. 
mistress, be not so violent.  Ra. 
Ha.  Mat. 
I'll rather run my Country, Gentlemen, then endure her.  Ra. 
You were best to kill her then, and then you'll have no other course to take, unless you stay and be hanged.  Mat. 
I'll make thee glad to fly first.  Ra. 
From my house and husband shall I? from my possessions shall I? And leave you all to spend in riot shall I? No sir, I'll stay and spend my share if you go to that, that will I. And make all fly as well as you, and you go to that, that will I, ha.  Mat. 
Whoop, whow.  Er. 
Nay, I'll be not so loud.  Mat. 
What didst thou bring thou drudge thou.  Ra. 
That which you were content to drudge withal, I am too sure o' that. The drudge you speak of is no worse than your own wife, I am too sure o''at.  Mat. 
I know not what to say to her.  Ra. 
Did you not say for better, for worse? And if 'twere worse than 'tis, 'twere all too good for you. And that I hope I shall find some good Friend to know.  Val. 
That I like well, I'll be her first man.  Ra. 
I trust you have found the drudge to be a woman fit to content a man, and if you grant not that, some better man perhaps shall be a Judge, betwixt you and the drudge.  Val. 
Better still.  Mat. 
She threatens horns. I think.  Ra. 
horns. I think, you said. If 'twere so 'twere too good for you. Cannot your own wife content you, ha?  Val. 
She holds up that point stoutly.  Ra. 
That shall be tried.  Mat. 
O for an expert Chirurgeon now to cast her in a dead sleep, and geld her.  Er. 
Introth you will be both sorry, when your passion gives but least way to your understandings. Mr. Matchil, let me persuade with you.  Mat. 
Never unless you bring her on her knees, to crave forgiveness at my foot.  Val. 
If you but yield an inch he treads upon your neck, I will not give an under spur-leather for you. But bear it out bravely, and I'll be your servant.  Er. 
Mrs. Matchil.  Ra. 
Mrs. Matchill indeed, to be so matched.  Mat. 
So matched▪ how matched? what from the hurden sinock with lockram upper-bodies, and hempen sheets, to wear and sleep in Holland, and from the dripping-pan to eat in silver, ha. Do you repine at your Match, ha. Is wealth contemptible to you?  Ra. 
I was better content in my poverty. I have not been myself, Gentlemen, since he married me.  Mas. 
You may be poor again as soon as you please, the door is open, depart at your pleasure; you know the way to your old Aunt the Applewoman, at Hockly-hole. Take your knitting Needles again, and live with her, go.  Ra. 
No sir, I'll stay with you, and make you as poor before I have done wi' ye, as I was before you had me Gent. I shall not be myself till then.  Mat. 
The devil you shall. Was ever such a crooked condition crept into a thing like woman?  Val. 
Yet this sir, is the rare piece of obedience  
You boasted of, and said you would defy  
The devil to dishonest her, I am sorry  
Your judgement led you into such an error,  
Already she's my Mistress.  Mat. 
Is she so?  Ra. 
Yes, and I'll call him servant, Gentlewomen use it.  Val. 
Do so, Mistress.  Mat. 
If she, sir, be your Mistress, Then am I  
Your Master-in-law, out of my house I charge you.  Er. 
Dost thou conspire to grieve him?  Val. 
Troth, sir, I did but jest. You have my pity.  Er. 
All are not times for Jest, friend Valentine.  Mat 
O my affliction!  [She looks in her Watch. Er. 
Have a little patience, sir.  
While I talk calmly with her.  Mat. 
Leave me then  
A while unto my thoughts. Go into the house.  Ra. 
Pray servant help me here a little. Do so much  
As wind up my Jack for me, my Watch I would say.  Val. 
Her Jack▪ she's in the Kitchen still.  
A pretty Watch this, Mistress, what did you pay for't.  Ra. 
Nothing, my husband gave me.  Val. 
Pity the Spring is broke, but I can get it mended.  Ra. 
Good servant take it with you then to the Jack-makers, I would say, the Watch-makers. Come Gentlemen, shall we have a crash at cards?  Er. 
With all my heart. What is your game?  Ra. 
I can play a many old games. One and thirty bone-ace, Tickle me quickly, and my Lady's hole, and sichie. But you shall teach me new ones, though I lose money for my learning, Gleek and Primero, Gresco saut, primofistula, I know all by hear-say. Come let us have a bout at somewhat. I have money enough.  Val. 
And I'll make shift to ease you of some on't.  Ex. three. Mat. 
Affliction on affliction hourly finds me,  
And lays me on the Rack, tearing my heart  
Like greedy vultures, O my heart, this heart  
That I so long supposed impenetrable  
By all the darts of sorrow, is now transfixed,  
Shot through and through with torments, and by this.  
This last made sensible of all the rest.  
My sons untimely death, my daughter's loss.  
My sister's follies, and my Brother's vices.  
My servant's falsehood, and the jeers of strangers  
Now wound me all at once; and all through this  
Predominant blow, pulled on me by mine own  
Impetuous rashness. Let me here consider,  
While my heart's torture keeps my soul awake,  
The moving cause of all these ill effects.  
Mine own unbridled wild affections.  
Scorn of example, and contempt of counsel.  
I cannot but observe withal, how just,  
A judgement follows mine own wilful acts,  
In the same kind of doing ills for ills.  
For my lost son, I rashly wrought revenge  
Upon an innocent Girl; and with her  
Have lost mine own; and for th'unmanly joy  
I took in one wife's death, because a Shrew.  
(Though otherwise virtuous) I am in another  
Trebly tormented; not alone with noise,  
But with a fear of unchaste purposes,  
Which if they come to act, my purse must pay for.  
I see my faults, and feel the punishments.  
And rather than stand out in my defence  
T'enjoy some peace, I will endure some sorrow  
And bear it civilly. Within there.  Enter Servant. Ser. 
Sir.  Mat. 
Go call your Mistress, pray her to come alone.  Ex. Ser. 
My resolution brings me yet some ease:  
Men that are borne to serve, must seek to please.  Enter Rachel. Mat. 
Rachel.  Ra 
Your pleasure quickly, I have left  
My company, my servant, and my friend yond,  
Sawing against one another at Corn the Caster; till I come to 'em.  Mat. 
And then all three to In and In, is't so?  Ra. 
My servant, and my friend and I are e'en all one.  
They are the goodest Gentlemen, the best company.  Mat. 
Your servant and your friend.  Ra. 
Yes, and my servant plays for me now in my absence, as far as ten pieces go that I left him. My plow goes there, though I am here.  Mat. 
Your plow makes vile balks of my money the while.  Ra. 
I am not so ill a housewife as you imagine. And my friend, and my servant have promised to carry me abroad, to this town, and to that town, and t'other town, and whow, I know not whither. And my servant will have me to Hyde-park he says, to see and to show all, as well as the brave Gallants.  Mat. 
This is gallant indeed.  Ra. 
And my friend will carry me to a what-do-you-call, a new Academy, where I shall see the rarest music and dancing, he says, and learn the finest Compliments. and other courtly qualities that are to be had for money, and such instructions for the newest fashions  Mat. 
She will fly to the devil for fashion's sake. Pray stay a little, and let me talk calmly with you. You have almost broke my heart.  Ra. 
But not altogether, I hope. I would not win so great a game, without some sport in playing it.  Mat. 
Hear me.  
I know you put on this affected carriage,  
But to try mastery, and the disease  
Being so general among all women,  
Is in you therefore more excusable.  Ra. 
O, are you coming?  Mat. 
Hear what I will say to you.  
And find in that a husband's good affection.  
I love my peace, and would preserve my honour,  
Both which are in your breasts to save or spoil.  Ra. 
And can you think the way to purchase peace  
Is by a war with me? hah, you are cozened.  
Do you think your domineering looks, or noise,  
Or blows, can fright me into quietness,  
Or that you shall have honour by abasing  
Your wife?  Mat. 
You will not understand me.  Ra. 
Hah.  Mat. 
Though I love peace, and would preserve my honour.  
I'll yield in both to you, and can, (I have been  
So used to thraldom) But the world, the world  
Is such a Talker.—  Ra. 
I have found the man.  Mat. 
There I would save a reputation.  Ra. 
He's loath to bring it out; I'll close w'ye.  
You'll be content so, I will suffer you  
To bear a loud command o'er me in public,  
That I shall carry it in private. Is't not so?  Mat. 
Truly wife, yes.  Ra. 
You'll give me leave to beat you  
In private then.  Mat. 
Nay, we'll bar blows at all times.  Ra. 
But if I chance to give you a rap or two,  
Or now and then a nip, and you strike me  
Again, I'll strike you some way else, as you  
Would not be struck. And so observe my carriage.  
The Gentlemen are coming.  Enter Erasmus, Valentine. Er. 
O, here they are.  Val. 
And not by the ears: that's wonderful.  Ra. 
Sir, I perceive my error, and repent it.  
Promising you in all my after life,  
To be a faithful and obedient wife.  Val. 
He has fetch't her about, it seems.  Mat. 
Gramercy Rachel, bind it with a kiss.  [Kiss. Er. 
And thus it should be.  Mat. 
Gentlemen, have ye found us?  Er. 
With joy to see this reconciliation.  Mat. 
Thus shall ye see it ever, Gentlemen.  
I knew she would yield, or I should make her heart ache.  
What were a husband, if he were not Master?  Val. 
You have won the field, it seems, yet I may hope  
I have not lost a Mistress.  Er. 
Nor I a friend.  Mat. 
In a fair way, Gentlemen, I shall  
Abridge her of no courtly privilege.  
But no more haytie twaytie tricks, I charge you.  
She shall not jaunt to this nor that town with you.  
(I thank you for your care) nor to Hyde-park.  
Nor to the Academy you tell her of, without my leave.  Val. 
And do you say so Mistress?  Ra. 
Truly yes.  
I am no such woman as you took me for,  
With Mr. Matchil's leave you may be welcome  
Home to his house in good and seemly sort.  
Put pray expect no further entertainment  
Than he shall well allow of.  Val. 
I have lost her.  Er. 
This change is admirable.  Mat. 
Why do you admire it.  
Is she not mine? how could you think she durst  
Stand out in her rebellion? although the devil  
Who soothes all Upstarts dispositions  
Into an overweening of themselves.  
Possessed her for a time, had not I power  
And virtue do you think to conjure him out?  
What have I studied for, think you, e'er since  
My last wife died, but how to rule the next?  
Go get you in, there's something in the house  
Worth looking after.  Er. 
I be sworn, he frights her.  Ra. 
Would I had you within to perform covenants.  Mat. 
What do you grow rebellious again.  
Why stir you not else, ha? prithee Sweetheart  
Respect my dignity, or only seem to do it.  Ra. 
Yes, I will only seem to do it.  Val. 
He makes her tremble.  Ra. 
Gentlemen, I must about my house-affairs.  
So, I take my leave.  Er. Val. 
Good Mrs. Matchil.  Mat. 
Aha.  Ra. 
And Mr. Matchil, at your own good pleasure.  [Curt'sie. 
Having in private something to impart to you,  
I would entreat your presence.  Mat. 
Well, Anon, anon.  Ra. 
Your ear before I go good Mr. Matchil.  [Curt'sie, Pinch. Val. 
H'has brought her to her servile old obedience.  Mat. 
O—oh.  Ra. 
That is a private touch, sir, of the business.  Mat. 
Pox of your Lobster claws. There waanip!  Ra. 
It will be worth consideration, sir.  Mat. 
Well, I'll come to you presently.  Ra. 
I humbly take my leave.  Ex. Er. 
Any ill news that you change colour so?  Mat. 
No, nothing, nothing but a womanish fear.  Val. 
Well, you are a happy man that have oF her.  Mat. 
You know not me yet Gentlemen, I know a word in private would do it.  Val. 
Yet she desires to have you again in private.  Mat. 
'Tis her abundant love, and pure obedience.  Er. 
She comes again.  Enter Rachel. Ra. 
Since you're not yet disposed to enter, sir.  
One word more, Mr. Matchil, if you please.  [curtsy. Mat. 
Oh,— I understand you. Go, I'll follow you.  Ra. 
Again, I take my leave.  Ex. Mat. 
I must wear Lantern-horns upon mine arms,  
If she use this. Well, Gentlemen, at your own time  
Let's see ye. My Rach. shall make you welcome,  
And for me, you know me, I will still be Master.—  Enter Rachel. 
I come, I come, I come. So, farewell Gentlemen.  Ex. Val. 
Ha, do you run?  Er. 
What dost thou think of this?  Val. 
I'll lay all the tricks I have against his brags.  
She masters him in private, and that all  
This show of her obedience is dissembled.  
My hope revives again; we must abroad with her.  
But tell me, what new Academy's that  
You told her of, I understand not that yet.  Er. 
Nor have I seen it, but we both will shortly.  
'Tis but of two or three days standing yet.  Val. 
Where is it? who are the Professors,  
And what the Arts?  Er. 
I'll tell thee all know.  
It carries a love-sound; but I am told  
It is but private lodgings kept by  
Both men and women, as I am informed, after the French manner.  
That profess Music, Dancing, Fashion, Compliment.—  Val. 
And no drabbing?  Er. 
A little perhaps in private.  
But guess now in whose house all this.  Val. 
I cannot.  Er. 
Even in your City-Mystresses, that lends you  
Money so freely.  Val. 
Who Chameleon?  Er. 
Yes sir, I doubt, your borrowing of the wife  
Has broke the husband, put 'em off their trade,  
And now they seek new ways to live by projects.  Val. 
And could you keep this from me all this while,  
Till I am there, each step's a tedious mile.  Er. 
But not without me, good Val. We'll find a time.  
Together, and our Mrs. Matchil with us.  Ex.  

Scoen. 2.  Enter Camelion and Hannah. Cam. 
Cock, I protest Cock, I commend thy course  
Thou hast taken in brave Lodgers, gallant Guests,  
Guests o'th' Game Cock; and my house is counted  
A house of quality and recreation, Cock,  
In civil sort and gentle fashion, Cock,  
Sbobs Cock, I know thou wouldest not have it otherwise  
For all the wealth i'th' Exchange.  Han. 
But Rafe you care not  
What people say, so I bring you in profit.  Cam. 
Not I, not I, my little cocksy Nansie,  
Not I, pish, Honey soit qui maly pense.  Han. 
Some do not stick to say, I know what's what,  
And that our house is no better than it should be.  Cam. 
Pish, Honey soit again, i'th' very teeth of 'em,  
Let 'em all say what they will. Dainty come thou to me.  Han. 
But I know what I know, and that our house is  
Better than it should be, if some of them  
Had but the keeping of it, that speak so ill on't.  
And that the Gentlewomen in our house  
Are well-conditioned, and as chaste as courteous.  
And if you saw, (as they desire I should  
See all betwixt their great Resorts and them)  
You'd be in love with their sweet way of living.  
Then for their dancing, 'tis so neat and graceful.  
See 'em anon at practice.  Cam. 
Not I, Cock, I'll see nothing.  
I will not leave one ducking pond, for ten dancing schools.  
Yet I can dance, and love it: you know that Cock.  
And though you are a Gentlewoman borne,  
You took me for my legs, not for my arms.  
Is not that a good Jest, Cock. Sbobs 'twas out before  
I was aware. Here comes their father.  Enter Strigood, Cash, disguised in bravery. Cam. 
It seems he has brought in some new scholar.  Stri. 
Where are my daughters, Landlady.  Han. 
Close in their chamber, sir.  Stri. 
Are none of our Academics come yet?  Han. 
Not any, sir.  Stri. 
I look for some anon  
Pray bid the Girls come down  
To practise.  Han. 
Yes, sir.  Ex. Cam. 
Sir, when I was a Bachelor, I practised,  
Dancing sometimes.  Stri. 
Indeed, good Landlord?  Cam. 
And maugre wedlock, I have something left  
Yet in these legs, that can express at least  
Love to the quality.  Stri. 
That shall not be lost,  
If I can further it.  Cam. 
I saw last night  
Your new French dance of three, what call you it?  Stri. 
O the Tresboun.  Cam. 
I think I could make one in't.  Stri. 
This Gentleman's another, call the Music.  
I'll try what you can do.  Ex. Cam. 
Cash, Thou art welcome, I am glad I met thee.  Cash. 
But that you had foreknowledge of my habit,  
And seen it in my outleaps, as you call 'em,  
I might ha' passed. But you in this disguise,  
None but the devil himself that is your Inmate,  
And lodges with you in it, could have known you.  
Sure he devised it.  Stri. 
No, you are short.  
I learned it of a Jesuit.  
And 'twas but easy: shaving of my old  
Grey hair and beard off; clapping on this peruke  
After the fashion; having but few wrinkles.  
(For which I thank my bachelorship, I pass  
For a brisk youth. But for my Hannibal eye here. And by my brother's  
Courteous advice I have ta'en a course to live  
Upon my stock of wit, slight and activity,  
With nimble brain, quick hands, and airy heels, as he told me, ha!  Cash. 
He could not think you would have stolen his daughter to ha' set up withal.  Stri. 
But now I care not  
What the wretch thinks, so he discovers nothing,  
I dare trust thee Cash, partly on thy Oath  
Which I have ta'en you know: but more respectively  
Upon your forty pieces here, friend Cash,  
Which I have also ta'en: but most of all  
For that I know you dare not make discovery,  
For fear of Little-ease. That were a prison  
Too fearful for such bravery to stoop into.  Cash. 
That keeps me still in awe. 'Tis well you know it.  
But it is better, he has no suspicion  
That I am run away.  Enter Camelion. Cam. 
The music's ready, sir.  Stri. 
Play then,— the Tresboun.  Dance. Stri. 
'Twas very well done, Landlord, I protest  
I love your house the better for your quality.  Cam. 
But if you saw me at the ducking pond,  
Me and my Trull.  Stri. 
Your Trull?  Cam. 
I mean, my bitch, sir.  
O she would ravish you.  Enter Hannah. Stri. 
Some other time.  
Here comes your wife. The news good Landlady?  Han. 
News out of France, your fame is spread abroad.  Stri. 
How out of France?  Han. 
Two young French Gentlemen.  
New come ashore, the daintiest sweetest Gentlemen  
That e'er I saw (now you'll be jealous Rafe)  Cam. 
Not I.  Han. 
Are come to lodge here, having heard  
It seems, that you profess French qualities.  
And instantly desire to be acquainted  
With you and your sweet company.  Stri. 
Can they speak English?  Han. 
One very well: and the tother can say  
Tree Fransh crown for two English kiss already,  
Now be jealous Rafe.  Cam. 
Pish, Honey soit qui maly pense.  Stri. 
You can speak French, Landlord.  Cam. 
So much as you have heard, not one word more.  
I assure you but this, Adieu Monsieur and so  
I leave you.  Han. 
Will you not see the Gallants Rafe?  Cam. 
Not I, I won't be jealous Cock, and so!  
By the Backdoor to the ducking pond. I go.  Ex. Stri. 
Enter then Landlady, where be these Girls?  Han. 
Here they are come.  Ex. Enter Joyce, Gabriella. Stri. 
Stand aside Cash, and be not yet discovered.  
Now Ladies, how do y'like your way of living?  Joy. 
I do not like it Uncle.  Gab. 
Troth, nor I sir.  Joy. 
We eat and lodge well; and we wear good clothes.  
And keep our credit in the house we live in,  
But what we suffer in our reputation  
Abroad, is dangerously doubtful.  Stri. 
So, so.  Gab. 
Here we are viewed and reviewed by all comers.  
Courted and tempted too, and though we're safe  
In our chaste thoughts, the impious world may say,  
We are set out to common sale.  Stri. 
So, so.  Cash. 
And so you are to th' utmost of his power  
I dare be sworn;  Joy. 
But Uncle, for the time that you intend  
To stay, I pray admit no new acquaintance,  
Nor any more, lest I for my escape  
Venture a leap two stories deep.  Stri. 
Ha! you said?  
You know I have disclosed you to no eye  
That could take knowledge who or whence you are,  
And for the foreign strangers, and such Townsfolks  
As knew us not; what need we weigh their thoughts.  
Their gold is weight; let that be all we look to.  
While our deserving arts and qualities  
Require it from 'em. If they think us wicked,  
And hope to get Virginities for salary,  
And pay for their deluded hopes beforehand.  
What is our act but Justice on their follies,  
In taking of their prodigal coin?  Gab. 
I hope,  
You deal not that way for us.  Stri. 
Never fear it.  Joy. 
But Uncle, though you have taught us courtly  
gipsy tricks.  
That somewhat trench upon our modesties.  
Pray let it not be thought we'll sell our honesties.  Stri. 
Trust to my care.  Cash. 
And that's the way to do it.  Stri. 
And in that care be confidently seen,  
By a deserving Gentleman, whom I  
Present to kiss your hands.  Joy. 
I will see none.  Cash. 
You need not fear me, Lady; for I can  
But tell your father, if you slight his servant.  Gab. 
Bless us! what Metamorphosis is this?  
'Tis Cash your father's man.  Joy. 
Is this the habit of a Merchant's Prentice?  Cash. 
Is this the lodging of a Merchant's daughter?  Joy. 
Has his great marriage turned my father's house  
Into a sumptuous Palace, that he keeps  
Such costly men. Or doth the bravery  
Of his late beauteous Bride require such gorgeous  
Attendants? Pray what office may you fill  
About her person.  Cash. 
Will you home and see?  Gab. 
We are betrayed?  Stri. 
Ha, ha, ha. Be not afraid of Cash.  
I know him, and he knows us. He is our friend  
And we'll be his. As for his bravery  
'Tis no new thing with him. I know him of old.  
This suit's his worst of four.  
And he's one  
Of the four famous Prentices o'th' time.  
None of the Cream and Cake-boys, nor of those,  
That gall their hands with stool-balls, or their Catsticks,  
For whitepots, pudding-pies, stewed prunes, and Tansies.  
To feast their Titts at Islington or Hogsden.  
But haunts the famous Ordinaries o'th' time,  
Where the best cheer, best game, best company are frequent.  
Lords call him Cousin at the Bowling Green; And the great Tennis-Court.  
Thy father's money  
Would rust else, Girl. Keep thou our Council Cash.  
And we'll keep thine, though't be to the undoing  
Of him and all the wretches of his brotherhood,  
That love their money, and their base desires,  
Better than blood or name.  Gab. 
But can you hold  
It good in any servant so to hazard  
His Master's livelihood.  Stri. 
Can you hold your peace?  
He's wise, and saves by't all this while: He knows  
His friends are bound in full two thousand pounds,  
For's truth, and his true service, and perhaps,  
He is not out above one thousand yet,  
Where's your wit now?  Cash. 
Mistress, I'll do you service, and be true to you.  
I'd not have missed of this discovery.—  Stri. 
You see she hearkens to him. Talk aside Cash.  
And touch her boldly.  Cash. 
I would not have missed it.  
For all the wealth your father has: and at  
Convenient privacy. I'll give you reasons,  
That shall gain your belief to't.  Stri. 
The French Gallants.  Enter Papillion, Galliard. 
I had almost forgot them. They are a pair  
Of delicate young Monsieurs. If they have  
But crowns enough, they are the likeliest  
Merchants for my new Mart that I can choose.  
She said they can speak English, that's a help.  
For devil of French have I to entertain 'em.  [Salutes. Gab. 
See mine own heart, here's more temptation still.  Joy. 
I'll not endure the onset.  Cash. 
I le defend you.  Joy. 
Yet there are graces in their looks methinks,  
That do invite my stay.  Pap. 
NOT intends vous, la langue francois Monsieur dittez.  Stri. 
I would be glad to hear you speak the language  
I better understand, and that is English.  
In which you are most welcome.  Pap. 
Your fair courtesy  
Merits our greatest thanks.  Gali. 
I tanck you, sir.  
I have bid France adieu to come and learn  
De English very well; I speak a lietel,  
But de English Mistress can teach de best.  
I shall be glad to take my commencements,  
Or my first Lessons from these ladies' lips.  [Salute. Stri. 
A fine forward spark?  Gali 
O sweet, O delicate.  
Ladies, if you will breathe into me English,  
I shall, if you please, put Fransh into you.  
Une pour l'antre, dat is one for another.  Cash. 
So they might make a hot bargain on't.  Joy. 
Are these your Civil Gentlemen, Landlady?  Han. 
He seems a little waggish: but the other  
Is wondrous civil. He comes blushingly.  Pap. 
You are before me in the Salutation  
Of these fair Ladies, Monsieur Galliard:  Gal. 
Il E'vray Monsieur Papilion, I kiss before, than you mose kiss behind.  
But let me pray my tardiness be excused  [Salute. Joy. 
You pronounce English well sir.  Pap. 
I am glad  
You like it Lady.  Gab. 
I like the others as well.  Pap. 
I have before spent many months in England:  
And my great love unto the Nation,  
Especially to the beauties of your Sex,  
Retracts me hither, where my friend was never.  
Till now that my persuasion won his company;  
And happily, I suppose, we are arrived:  
That, to the sight and knowledge we have had  
Of Music, Dances, Courtships, and Behaviour.  
Through all parts of our Country, France, with an  
Addition of all Italy affords.  
Where (by all best opinions) even the choicest  
Of such court qualities, and active graces,  
Have had their Spring, we now, as Fame suggests,  
Shall in this fair Society, discern  
More than by all our former observation.  Stri. 
Report, sir, speaks too loud on our behalf,  
And let me pray ye, that it not beget  
Too great an expectation on our weakness,  
By your too gentle suffrage. What we can,  
We'll do.  Gali. 
O we dats de best. Do is de ting  
De Fransh man loves: If all your both two daughters  
Show all; all makes but more desire to do.  
Speak I no good English, mademoiselle?  Joy. 
I understand you not.  Gali. 
You no understand me,  
Because you tinck I lie. But if you lie  
With me, I make you understand me presently.  Cash. 
This hot-reined monsieur takes 'em for the same.  
Strigood would have 'em be I came in time.  Stri. 
At afternoon we'll have an exercise  
Of courtship, Gentlemen. In the Interim,  
If you will have to stir the appetite,  
A dance before our Ordinary we are for you.  Gali. 
And we for you Alloun all Egremant Alloun  
Monsieur Papillion pour l' honour de France.  Pap. 
What are your dances chiefly in request.  Stri. 
Good Landlady, bid the Music be in readiness.  
And then see dinner set upon the table.  Ex. Han. 
We have Sir for Corants,— La Miniard,  
La Vemimde, Le Marquess, Le Holland,  
La Britain, Le Roy, Le Prince, Le Montague,  
The Saraband; the Canaries, La reverie.  
For Galliards, the Sellibrand, the Dolphin,  
The new Galliard, the Valette Galliard and lepees,  Gali. 
'Tis all very good Monsieur Papillica Essontes  
Mon Amy.  Cash. 
And hark you, Monsieur Strigood, you will be put to't.  Stri. 
I fear no French flashes. Bear up Cash. If we cannot dance 'em of oF their legs, our wenches can,  
I warrant thee. Music be ready.  
Gallants, what are you pleased to dance?  Phil. 
tells what, etc.  After the Dances, Enter Hannah. Han. 
Gentlemen, your dinner stays meat will be cold.  Fran. 
And we are hot, 'tis better that take cold then we.  
But come, one table for us all.  Phil. 
Stri. Agreed, agreed, agreed.  Cash. 
I say so too.  
But to myself reserve what I will do.  Ex. omnes.   

Act. IV.  

Scoen. 1.  Nehemiah, Ephraim. Neh. 
EPhraim, thou hast made me a man, both without, witness this sword and within, witness this precious book, which I have gotten almost by heart already.  Eph. 
But sir, beware you fall not back again Into your childish follies: but go forwards In manly actions: for non progredi est regredi.  Neh. 
I know the meaning of that too, Ephraim. That's once a man and twice a child. But if I turn child again, while I have teeth in my head, I'll give Mrs. Blithe leave to dig 'em out with Sugar-plums, as she almost did these two of 'em yesterday, with her knuckles. I would they stuck both in her bum for't, till I were married to her, and that shall be shortly, they say, I wo' not turn boy again for that trick.  Eph. 
I hope you will not.  Neh. 
Thou mayest be sure on't Ephraim: for if I would turn boy again, I ha' not wherewithal to set up again. Thou sawest that, as soon as I had tasted the sweetness of this delicious book here, I tore and burnt all my ballads, as well the godly as the ungodly. In my conscience as many as might have furnished three Bartholomew Fairs, and then for love of this sword, I broke and did away all my storehouse of tops, gigs, balls, cat and catsticks, potguns, key-guns, trunks, tillers, and all; and will I turn boy again canst think? yet I am half sorry, being towards a wife, that I did not keep 'em for my children: some money might have been saved by't. And that is a manly and a good husbandly consideration, I take it. But hang covetousness: There comes not a mouth into the world, but there's meat for 't; and if I find 'em not play games, their mother will find friends, that shall, for them and herself too  Eph. 
I'm glad to hear such good things to come from you,  
And hope that now your judgement's strong enough  
To manage my affair. You know my mind, sir.  Neh. 
Amardla Ephraim, 'twill be hard to compass. For the old Knight will never let me have his Niece, unless he have my mother. He means to truck for her, though, I confess, I had rather call thee father then any man, I know, yet I know not how to bring it about, unless he marry her first; and than she be weary of him, and take thee afterwards to mend her match. I think it must be so, Amardla Ephraim.  Eph. 
Now you fly out again, that's as impossible, as 'tis unlawful.  La. 
Within. Negh. Negh.  Neh. 
Peace, my mother comes.  La. 
Where are you child? Neh.  Neh. 
I hear her neighing after me, I'll do all I can for thee, Amardla Ephraim.  Enter Lady. La. 
Look you son, what kind Sir Swithin has sent you. A dancing frog, you would think it were alive, and a ballet of burning the false prophets before they be tried. And another fearful one of the new Antichrist.  Neh. 
Hang baubles, burn ballets, I am a man, and defy boys' tricks.  La. 
A sudden change, I pray it be good.  Neh. 
Tell me of toys? I have a sword: offer me ballets? I have a book. Speak to me of Sir Swithin, I'll talk to you of Ephraim that gave me these blessings; and is fitter to be my father, (so he is) than the foolishest Knight of 'em all.  [Reads, La. 
Bless my son from too much learning. That book has done him no good, I doubt. He talks and looks so wildly o'the sudden.  Neh. 
A ha!  La. 
What book is't. Let me see it.  Neh. 
I'll tell you first. It is a book all of Bulls, Jests and Lies Collected by an A. S. Gent. Mother forsooth, there be such things in it! If you never read it, it is the rarest book that ever you read in your life. Open it where you will, and you shall learn something. As here now. One refusing to eat Cheesecakes, was asked his reason. He told them he loved the flesh well, but was afeard of the bones. Then here's the next to't. One asking whence Lobsters were brought: his fellow replied, one might easily know their country by their coat. They are fetch't from the red sea. Now would I might never eat more of 'em, as well as I love 'em, if I know what Cheesecakes were made of, or from whence Lobsters came before.  La. 
Is this your book-learning? In troth thou mak'st me laugh.  Neh. 
Laugh on, good Mother. And while you are in the merry mood, let me speak a good word for Ephraim. I have a mind forsooth, because he has made me a man, to make him my father, forsooth.  La. 
What, what! How now.  
How durst you sirrah, move my son in this? ha.  Eph. 
Madam.  La. 
Is it but so? ha!  Neh. 
Pray forsooth hear him speak. He can speak Poetry (he says) as well as Knight Whimlbie. Speak Ephraim.  Eph. 
Madam, Fair truth have told  
That Queens of old  
Have now and then  
Married with private men.  
A Countess was no Blusher,  
To wed her Usher.  
Without remorse  
A Lady took her Horse-  
Keeper in wedlock. These did wisely know,  
Inferior men best could their work below.  Neh. 
Mother forsooth, Is it not fine?  Eph. 
Nay, Madam, more than so, I'll further go  La. 
But you shall not, Sirrah. What, what! how now! Is't but up and ride? ha! Out of my doors thou varlet.  Neh. 
I must out too then, mother I am afraid, oh.—  La. 
Good Neh. be pacified, I'll give him a better answer.  
But not a word on't now, sweet child, I pray thee.  
Here comes Sir Swithin.  Enter Whimlbie, Blithe. Whi. 
Ha, ha, ha, Madam, ha, ha, ha.  [Kiss. La. 
I marry Sir Swithin. This is better than O Madam, O—, when you washed your handkerchiefs in the suds, and then to wring 'em out in Poetry.  Whi. 
My tears with the memory of the dead are all fallen into Lethe; and nothing but joy left in me, since my hopes are confirmed in your lap. And hang Poetry: I study profit now. Therefore, look you, Madam, here is a draught of my marriage-instrument to your lap.  Eph. 
His instrument being drawn, I must put up my pipe and be gone.  Ex. Whi. 
And here is another draught for sweet Master Nehemiah, for my Niece Blithe's Jointure.  Neh. 
O but she says she will not have me.  Whi. 
When did she say so?  Neh. 
Now, now, she spat the word out of her mouth. And I say, if she ha' not me, you shall whine both your eyes out before you have my mother; and see ne'er the worse, I warrant you.  Neh. 
A cross marriage, or no marriage, I say still.  La. 
I say so too, son, Sweet boy, be content.  Whi. Blithe. 
You spoke well of him behind his back: and made me think you loved him, and would marry him.  Bli. 
Behind his back, I may do much to please you. But when I look upon him, he turns my stomach worse than a fool made of sour milk.  La. 
Marry Gip, Mrs Queasy, my son's as sweet as you, I hope, and as wise as you. And sucked as sweet milk as ever the good Cow your mother gave.  Bli. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Whi. 
Patience, good Madam.  Eph. 
I hope the cross marriage is crossed. This is untoward wooing.  La. 
Uds so! do you flirt out your unsavoury comparisons upon my son?  Bli. 
Flirt not you at me, Madam, lest I flirt your milksop under the snotty nose here.  Neh. 
Yes, and I have a sword, and you ha' got ne'er a one.  La. 
You wo' not will you, ha! Do you fly at him, ha!  Whi. 
Fear not, good Madam.  La. 
Ephraim, save my boy.  Bli. 
Ha, ha, ha.—  Whi 
She shall not hurt him. Leave her to me, good Madam.  La. 
I ever feared he was not long-lived he was so witty. And now I fear, she will be the death of him. I would not he should marry her for a million.  Neh 
Say not so, mother. I love her better and better still.  
I never had playfellow i' my life, but we fell out and in again.  
And I must and will marry her, I take my death on't aforehand.  La. 
O me! he is bewitched to her.  Whi. 
Leave all to me, dear Madam.  La. 
As I am to you, I think, Sir Swithin.  Whi. 
Let me alone with her: I'll win her, and he shall wear her, fear not. As I was saying, Madam, she speaks as well of him behind his back, as your own heart can wish. And told me she was content to marry him.  La. 
Behind his back? did she so?  Whi. 
Yes truly, Madam.  Neh. 
lo you there, mother, Let her marry me behind my back then: And when we are married, I'll make her stick to't before my face, I warrant you; or if she will make back-play. I'll play at nothing but backgammons with her.  La. 
Well, Heaven bless thee, thou art but too good for her.  Whi. 
Speak gently, Niece, I charge you.  Bli 
Madam, I hope your Ladyship shall find me too good for him. If e'er he has me.  La. 
Ha! say you so?  Whi. 
She means in well-doing, Madam.  La. 
Nay then, I thank you Mrs. Blithe. Assuring you that you shall be no way so good to him, but I will be as good to you.  Neh. 
Agreed again of all hands. But look how she turns and keeps cut like my Sparrow. She will be my back Sweetheart still I see, and love me behind.  Whi. 
She is yet raw, and has not much been abroad to see the manners of the time. In which my melancholy has been her main hindrance. But Madam, there is now that is worth all our sight and observation; A new Academy, where they say, the newest and most courtly carriage and behaviour is taught and practised both for young Gentlemen and women. Have you not heard on t?  La. 
Yes Sir Swithin; and that the French tongue is taught there with great alacrity; and my son is wished thither, but soft I warrant you.  Whi. 
But let him see it: at least in our company it will embolden him; I mean to carry my Niece thither. I have been a Lover of Arts and Exercises; and know somewhat since my youth. Pray let us spend one hour of this afternoon there.  La. 
Pardon me good sir Swithin.  Neh. 
But he shall not mother if you love me: for I mean to perfect my dancing there; and to learn French there; For I mean when I am married to travel into France. But I will first be perfect in the tongue I shall learn it the sooner when I am there you know. Pray let us go to th' A comedy, what d'ee call it?  Whi. 
The Academy.  La. 
Say you so son? then come sir Swithin. Come Mrs. Blithe, we will all go.  Bli. 
I'll wait upon you, though my heart says no.  Ex.  

Scoen. 2.  Enter Joyce, Gabriella. Joy. 
O mine own heart! how near were we both fallen  
Into the Gulf of Ruin?  Gab. 
Thanks for our delivery!  
We were upon the brink of main destruction.  Joy. 
Was ever such a Friend as this mine Uncle?  
Pretending us his children too, and called us daughters  
To those he bargained with to sell our Maidenhead?  Gab. 
'Twas a most damnable practice fie upon him.  Joy. 
And had the Monsieurs been as capable  
Of our Virginities, as he was of.  
Their moneys, how had we then resisted.  Gab. 
By Venus (mine own heart) my Gentleman  
Came up so close to me, that if my voice  
Had not been stronger than mine arms (O me!  
I tremble son it yet) I had been vanquished,  Joy. 
But did you note the virtue of the Gentlemen?  
When they were sensible of our fears and tears,  
How gently they desisted and with what humanity,  
When they perceived how we had been betrayed,  
They pitied our conditions; and wooed homditly  
Our loves in way of marriage. Provided that  
Our births and fortunes might no way disparage  
Theirs, being free and generous  Gab. 
I confess  
I love 'em both so well, that if they prove  
(As they pretend they are not) our inferiors  
In blood and worth, I would take either of'em.  Joy. 
Troth (mine own heart) 'tis just the same with me.  
I care not which I have. And mark a sympathy,  
How equally all our affections strike.  
We both love them, they both love us alike.  
But peace. Cash, though he has done us good service,  
Must not know all. How goes it within Cash?  Enter Cash. Cash. 
And why Cash pray. Ha' not you changed your names  
From Joyce and Gabriella to Jane and Frances.  
And is not your Uncle Strigood now become  
Your father, by the name of Mr. Lightfoot  
The nimble dancing Master? And must I still  
Carry the name of Cash? and having lost  
My nature too, in having no cash left?  
(Pox o'the dice) call me Mr. Outlash.  Joy. 
My father will fetch you home with an Inlash,  
One o'these days.  Cash. 
But after you, fair Mistress,  
Now to your question for the squares within.  Joy. 
I with the Frenchmen, and my Uncle Strigood.  Cash. 
Your father Lightfoot, you forget again.  
There's a drawn match made: For the Monsieurs  
Have ta'en their money again: And you have still  
Your Maidenheads, I hope. But to have heard  
The coil they kept, the wrangle, and the stir;  
And how the young Blades put the old one to't;  
Would ha' perplexed you more than keeping of  
Your Maidenheads from men you love.  Gab. 
You cannot tell that.  Cash. 
O how the old man chafes that you would offer  
To make your moan to them to move their pity,  
And not to make his bargain good; and then  
How they put home his baseness to him; to make sale  
Of his own blood and honour in his children.  
(They knew they said some parents in their country,  
After their children were turned whores, would share  
To live upon the profits, but to sell  
Their souls before they were damned, fie; fie, fie, fie).  
Till he confessed indeed you were none of his.  
But children of some friends of his deceased,  
Left to his care for breeding; which he had  
Plenteously given, and thought it might seem reasonable  
To raise his money out of you again.  Joy. 
What an old devil is this?  Cash. 
Baser and baser still.  
The Monsieurs cried, and swore if they could find  
Your Parents were Gentle and virtuous,  
Being their first Loves, they would marry you,  
To free you from this miserable thraldom.  Gab. 
Brave honest Gentlemen.  Gab. 
Be advised though, Mistress.  Joy. 
I hope I shall.  Cash. 
Beware of Travellers, many pass abroad  
For gallant fellows that have run their country,  
For picking pockets.  Joy. 
And some you know at home  
For cozening their Masters.  Cash. 
You are pleased.  
But you have known my love; for Gabriella  
Let 'em share her betwixt 'em. You and I  
Made one, may soon make peace with the old man  
At home.  Joy. 
O Rogue! I'll tell you more anon Cash.  Enter Strigood, Pap. Galliard. Stri. 
Come Gentlemen, Monsieur Papillion.  
And Monsieur Galliard, all friends, all friends.  Pap. 
Agreed, agreed, sir.  Gall. 
And agree for me.  
Agree poor tout.  Stri. 
Cheer up your faces Girls.  
'Twas but my trial of your chastity.  
And since you have stood firm, I am proud of you.  
Trust me, 'twas but to try you.  Gall. 
we we All, but for try. Trimount, trimount.  
No more, but all for try: no man can tinck,  
But 'twas too very moshe to take two hundred  
Crowns for two pusillages, no, no was but  
For try: but and she had not squeak and scrash too  
Like to do leetel chat, I had Trimount  
One, two, tree, five time, for all your try.  Stri. 
what's past let be forgot. According to  
Agreement, Gentlemen, you're now content  
To join with us in Academic fellowship,  
And for your pastime profess Art and Science,  
As we do for our profit: you're expert,  
I find; and shall win wonder of our Nation,  
To your own much delight out of their follies.  Cash. 
And then for Gamesters, Gentlemen. If you'll play.  
I'll bring ye those shall venture money enough.  Pap. 
We are planted to our wish.  Gall. 
All very good.  
All very good; but I would see thee first.  
What Ladies will come here to practise compliment.  Stri. 
You are still hot upon the female Monsieur Galliard  
Monsieur Papillion here flies over them.  Enter Hannah. Han. 
Ha, ha, ha, what will this world come to?  Stri. 
Landlady, the news?  Han. 
The old will to't.  
As well as the young I see.  Stri. 
To what Landlady?  He takes her aside. And that while the young men and maids court and confer at t'other side. Han. 
To fashion following;  
A Reverend Lady  
Of fifty five; and a Knight of threescore  
And upwards, are come hither to learn fashion.  Stri. 
Do you know their names?  Han. 
Yes, yes: and them; 'tis that  
Begets my wonder.  
'Tis the Lady Nestlecock, and one Sir Swithin Whimlby.  Stri. 
Wit be merciful unto us.  Enter Hannah, Cash. Han. 
The lady's man's without: who came to know if the house were ready to entertain 'em; do you know 'em Mr. Lightfoot?  Stri. 
I have heard o'th' Lady. Cash, see if it be Ephraim.  
He cannot know thee. Let him not away,  [He looks out. 
By any means, his not return to them may keep 'em back.  Cash. 
'Tis he, I see him hither.  Stri. 
Landlady, is your husband come from ducking.  Han. 
Yes, overjoyed with the good sport he has had.  
He'll play th' good fellow then. Entreat him Cash.  
To help thee, put a cup or two upon  
That fellow; and hear'st me, spice his cup,  
I mean, grave Ephraim's cup with this same powder,  
'Twill lay him asleep, and quickly.  Cash. 
I know the trick on't.  Ex. Stri. 
And Landlady, when the Knight and Lady come,  
Say we are ready for 'em.  Han. 
That I shall sir.  Pap. 
'Tis then an absolute contract. I am yours.  Joy. 
And I am yours as firm as faith can bind.  Gall. 
To which we are de witness. Be so for us,  
I am her husband, And she is my wife,  
Speak you.  Gab. 
'Fore Heaven, I do acknowledge it,  
But sir, the Church must be observed,  Gall. 
For that.  
We'll send for one Minister that shall marry  
Us all at once. One kiss till then shall serve.  [Kiss. Stri. 
'Tis well done Monsieurs, I no sooner turn  
My back, but you are on the Damosels lips.  Gall. 
A little in de honest way will serve,  
But he shall know no-ting.  Stri. 
On with your Masques-Maids,  
And take especial heed you blush not through 'em.  
For here are some at hand will put us to't.  Joy. 
'Tis not my father, nor my Lady Aunt?  Stri. 
I cannot promise you. Be bold and safe.  
Bear it out bravely, or our school breaks up  
Immediately: and we are broke forever,  
Besides, there is no starting.  Gab. 
That's enough  
To make a coward fight, and mine own heart;  
We must stand stoutly to't, we lose our loves else.  Joy. 
Well, I am armed.  Gab. 
And I.  Stri. 
Fall into compliment.  Masques on. Enter Whimlby, Lady, Neh. Blithe. La. 
I muse we lost my man thus.  Neh. 
By your leave, sir.  
Are you the Regent of this Academy?  Stri. 
I am sir.  Whim. 
And are those of your Assistants.  Stri. 
Yes sir, and all Professors of Court-discipline,  
By the most accurate, yet more familiar  
Rules, then have ever yet been taught by any,  
For quick instruction both of young and old.  Whim. 
You promise very fairly. For us old ones,  
We know and could have done things in our youth,  
Which still we have a mind to: but we leave  
The practice to our young ones: Here's a pair  
Would fain be at it. We'll pay their admittance.  La. 
But I'd be glad to see first by your leave,  
Some probability of what they shall learn.  Stri. 
And reason good, good Madam. Pray observe there.  Pap. 
Fair star of courtship, my unworthy humble self, a Profest servant to the integrity of beauty, makes this  
Clear testimony of your merits, that every eye that sees you,  
Owes you his heart for tribute, and that unjustly your beholders live, that live not in your service.  Neh. 
Mother forsooth, is not this French?  La. 
Peace child. Hear more on't.  Joy. 
Noble sir, you are so exactly deserving in the opinion of all righteous judgements, that the least syllable of your fair testimony, is able to re-edify the ruins of a decayed commendation.  Whim. 
The best that ever I heard, since I wooed my Grissel.  Stri, 
Was not that a sweet bout, sir?  Whim. 
Yes, yes, it puts me in mind of some sweet bouts I had with one before I married her.  Stri. 
has he married my Sister trow?  Pap. 
I am forced to give you over, Madam, you have such a preventing and preoccupying wit in all things.  Neh. 
That goes like English Mrs. Blithe. I could learn some of that methinks.  Bli. 
Best tell your mother so; she may rejoice at it.  Stri. 
There, Lady, was a taste of sweet compliment between persons equally affected. May it please you now to let your son pass upon this demosel. Who being to her a stranger, and raw (as I imagine) in courtship, shall meet with reprehension, that may be for his instruction.  La. 
Do Neh. speak to her.  Whim. 
Put of your hat and say—.  Neh. 
What! and her mask on?  La. 
That was well-said. Why are they masked, I pray sir?  Stri. 
We are commanded it by the policy of wise authority; for fear young heirs might fall in love with 'em, and sink their fortunes.  La. 
You have well satisfied me.  Neh. 
What should I say to one I never saw.  Whim. 
When I was young and bold, I would have said, Lady, you are most auspiciously encountered. And speak it boldly.  Neh. 
Lady, you are most suspiciously accoutred, I speak it boldly.  Whim. 
Auspiciously encountered man.  Neh. 
auspiciously encountered woman, I say.  Gab. 
I commiserate your encounter. 'Tis a most hungry, verminous, impoverished word sir. It seems you are a stranger by't, to the Innovation of courtship.  Neh. 
What should I say to that now?  La. 
He's a weak scholar forsooth, and would be glad to learn.  Gab. 
The acknowledgement of his weakness is the first grease of gradation to perfection, and his gladness the scaling-ladder of resolution.  Neh. 
Pray forsooth, can you teach me a compliment to offer you sugar-plums, and eat 'em myself: to save my manners and my plums too?  La. 
What a wag it is?  Gab. 
What walking dunghill is this? made of the dust swept from the house of ignorance.  La. 
What, what! how now, ha? you are a Flapse to term my son so, ha!  Stri. 
O good Madam. This is but school play.  La. 
I'll put her by her school-tricks and no only unmask, but unskin her face too, and she come over my heir apparent with such Billingsgate Compliments.  Pap. 
Sweet Madam, no harm was meant, and nothing said in earnest: 'Twas merely but school practice, but to show the sweet young Gentleman how he might be subject to the scorn of Court, before he be seen in Compliment.  La. 
Say you so?  Pap. 
'Twas told your Ladyship before, that by reprehension he might find instruction.  Whim. 
Right Madam; For no Fencer learns his Science before he receive some hits and knocks too: Oh, I have had many.  La. 
Nay, I am satisfied, and pray, that my rash error may prove pardonable Lady  Gab. 
Rather let me implore your mercy, Madam—.  Stri. 
'Tis well, 'tis well Let's hear an Interchange or two now, of complemental acknowledgement of courtesies passed betwixt Ladies, for the edification of this fair one, who seems not yet to have ta'en notice of us, but looks o' the ground still.  Bli. 
'Tis not to find a fescue, sir, among the Rushes.  
To pick out a lesson in your criss-cross-row of compliment.  Stri. 
Sharp and sudden. She has a good wit I see.  Whim. 
Ob, good Blithe, observe.  Gab. 
Can your poor servant express acknowledgement enough, Lady, for favours so incessantly heaped upon her, besides the accumulation of many secret benefits?  Joy. 
I cannot but admire, Madam, your noble and illustrious Gratitude, that can give beauty to benefits of so low a birth and condition.  Whim. 
O my Grissel comes to my mind again, she was the gratefullest woman.  Gab. 
If such favours, Madam, should pass under an humble name, Honour would grow idle, and a thankful Nature beguiled of her employment.  Joy. 
You'll make my zeal hereafter, too bashful to serve your most curious acknowledgement.  Bli. 
Curious acknowledgement! There was a third drawn out.  Gab. 
I am hound by many kindnesses, Madam, to celebrate the fair memory of you; as the trouble of your Coach twice in one day, besides those inestimable Jewels, the Monkey and Dormouse your Ladyship sent me.  Neh. 
I would you could lend me a sight of 'em forsooth, I love such things devoutly.  Joy. 
You do but open a privy door to my thankful remembrance, Madam, for the bounty of your Squirrel and paraquito.  Bli. 
Fagh, shut that privy-door.  Neh. 
And shut in the Squirrel and the paraquito to be stifled, shall she? O that I could see 'em!  Stri. 
Now Madam, and Sir Knight, Is not this neat and handsome?  Whim. 
Truly, truly, 'tis most admirable pretty.  Stri. 
Nay, if you heard our Lectures, saw our  
Dances.  
Relished our Music and harmonious voices,  
Observed our Rules for fashion and attire,  
Our many exact postures and dimensions,  
Fit to be used by way of Salutation,  
Of courtesy, of honour, of obeisance,  
To all degrees of man or womankind,  
From the low bent of vassalage, to the head  
Of towering Majesty, you should admire.  La. 
But do you read and teach all these to your scholars?  Stri. 
Stand forth, Monsieur Galliard. Stay we're interrupted.  Enter Eras. Val. Rachel. 
Up maids, and quickly; or 'tis not your Masques  
Can keep you undiscovered. Go, be ready,  
With Music and your voices, when I call to ye.  Ex. Joy. Gab. La. 
Why are we interrupted? pray proceed.  Neh. 
Mother, it is my naughty Aunt, so 'tis.  La. 
No matter, son, we'll take no notice of her.  
I wonder at the boldness of the drudge though.  Ra. 
I can turn tail too, as well as the great Lady. Hab.  Val. 
And do so, Mistress, give her a broadside.  
Well-said, we'll make our party good, I warrant you.  Er. 
Sir, we have heard your Fame; and love your Arts.  
And pray that our ambition be excused,  
Which drew on our Intrusion.  Stri. 
To me and to the place you are all welcome.  Val. 
And so to all I hope, chiefly to you,  
Good Madam Dowager, hoping in good time  
I may get good, by doing much good upon you  
How likes your Lop my compliment.  La. 
Do you bring your rude companions to affront me? Are you so hot? you stir up your cinders before they be caked.  Val. 
Still in the kitchen-dialect.  Ra. 
No ruder than yourself, hah.  Val. 
I brought her, Madam,  
T' advance my suit to you.  La. 
Will you see me abused  
Sir Swithin, look to your Niece, the tother talks to her.  Whi. 
Kind merry Gentlemen, Madam, when I was young I would have done the like. Their coming hither, was as ours was to note th' instructions  
That are taught here. Pray sir proceed. On with your exercise, that we may all be edified.  Stri. 
We shall do so, sir.  Val. 
But sir, your Gentlewomen,  
That passed upon our entrance where are they?  Stri 
Sir, they were called in haste to private practice  
With some great Ladies in an upper room.  Val. 
Umh— private practice. Well, I shall know all.  Stri. 
And they being absent, we shall for the present  
Only deliver by these Gentlemen,  
Some heads of Sciences.  
A Song, a Dance, and then  
Entreat you take a taste of a collation.  
And all most fairly welcome.  Speak Monsieur Galliard, 
The heads of our chief Arts. Your silence, pray you.  Gal. 
The first is the due carriage of the body,  
The proper motion of the head, hand, leg,  
To every several degree of person,  
From the Peasant unto the Potentate;  
To your inferiors how and when to use the Nod,  
The Hum, the Ha, the Frown, the Smile,  
Upon the fit occasion; and to your equals,  
The exactest, newest, and familiar motions  
Of eye, of hand, of knee, of arm and shoulder,  
That are in Garb, in Congee, Cringe, or Shrug,  
In common Courtesy, or Compliment,  
Lastly, for your Addresses to Superiors.  
The Honours, Reverence, or Obeisances,  
Proper unto the quality or estate  
Of person whatsoever. And so much  
For carriage and behaviour. In the next place  
You shall have rules for the more graceful wearing  
Of your Apparel, with the natural Reasons,  
Why some man's hat does better in his hand  
Then on his head, and why his coat hangs neater  
Upon his elbow, then upon his back,  
As also Reasons for Tunes bringing up.  
And marriages, together of the fashions  
Of man and woman, how his Caller, and her  
Black-bag, came on together; how his pocket-comb  
To spruce his peruke, and her Girdle-glass,  
To order her black pashes, came together;  
How his walking in the streets without a cloak  
And her, without a man came up together,  
Of these, and of a hundred more the like.  
We shall demonstrate reasons and instructions.  
Shall render you most graceful in each fashion.  
The next are skills in instruments, song and dancing  Stri. 
Enough, those shall be made familiar to you  
By voice and action instantly. A Song there.  SONG. Whim. 
Admirable pretty still.  Er. 
Are these your Gentlewomen's voices, sir?  Stri. 
They are  Val. 
What do you keep 'em up like Nuns,  
To sing and not be seen?  Stri. 
Not always sir.  
But may it please ye Gentlemen and Ladies,  
Now to observe the practice of our feet  
In active dancing.  Neh. 
That came I to learn,  
And to speak French, do you think sir, you can bring  
My mouth to handle the French tongue handsomely.  La. 
He's apt to learn, sir, I can tell you that.  Gal. 
Yes. I shall bring his Mout to it. But his Mont is yet a little too wide. But he shall have some of de water datde woman use for anoderting, to bring it better together, and he shall speak like de Fransh Lady.  Neh. 
Pray sir, if you can like the Lady's daughter of Paris properly.  Er. 
Now Val. thou knowest the way.  Val. 
I wonder sir, 'Mongst all your Arts and Sciences  
You have so little judgement in a face,  
Does his mouth appear wide to you? what false glass  
Are your eyes made of?  Gab. 
What you mean?  Er. 
Nay, friend.  Stri. 
Pray sir take no offence. Here was none meant.  Val. 
Slander is no offence then. He has injured,  
By breathing an aspersion on that face,  
The life of beauty, and the soul of sweetness.  
Wide mouth y'—.  Gal. 
Begar Monsieur, you shall no point out mouth,  
No, nor outface the French man with your great Bull-beef, and Mustard English looks.  Er. 
Nay, gentle Val. forbear.  Val. 
I'll stop.  
This mouth that knowingly says he dares except  
Against a tittle of his face or person.  
But as he is an ignorant stranger, and  
I must respect the company. I forbear.  La. 
However sir, I can but thank your love in 't.  Er. 
Now it works in her.  Val. 
Pardon my plainness, Madam.  
I never was so ta'en with Masculine beauty.  
And till I win a woman that is like him,  
Or has been like him, I can but languish.  La. 
They told me I was like him, when I was younger.  [Aside. 
And let me tell you you're a comely Gentleman.  
And be you but as honest as you're handsome, you deserve well.  Val. 
Umh, 'tis a hard matter to bring those ends together.  Neh. 
Mother forsooth. Here's a man now for you to make my father!  
Beyond the Knight or Ephraim!  La. 
Were I free from the old Knight, I could look well upon him.  Ra. 
Come servant, come away.  Val. 
By no means, Mistress, I do but soothe her up to jeer her for you.  
If you outstay her not, you lose your honour.  
She'll brag she has outlooked you. If you start.  Ra. 
Nay, and she go to that, I hope I can,  
Look as ill favouredly as herself, or a better  
Woman than she, and stay in spite of her, hah.  Val. 
'Tis well done, mistress, Madam shall I tell you.  
But I would pray you not to storm, but laugh at it.  
She says you are no match for me.  La. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Val. 
And knowing I aim at none but some great widow.  
Tells me she knows her husband's but short-lived.  
I fear she means to break his heart.  La. 
Say you so?  Val. 
No words, good Madam.  Whim. 
Yet more whispering.  
Pray Madam let us go. Niece come away,  
For I fear Madam, as you wisely doubted,  
This is no company for us.  La. 
Sir, I hope.  
I am not yet so tied, but I may safely  
Use my own freedom, I'll go when I please.  Whim. 
O Grissel, Grissel, when wouldst thou have said so?  Bli. 
love's power, I hope, hath won on destiny,  
T' appoint this day for my delivery.  Er. 
Nay, good Sir Swithin,— Ladies— we have yet  
Dancing to come, and a Collation promised.  Enter Camelion. Stri. 
Yes Gallants, now w' are ready, we but stayed for this fourth man here.  Val. 
O Chameleon.  
Where is your wife? I hope your je lousy.  
Locks her not up.  Cam. 
Pish Honi soit. I hate it.  
No, she has been preparing of a banquet,  
Which now is ready for you, worthy Mr. Lightfoot,  
And your fair company; jealousy I defy  
The base horn Ague, Mr. Askal I.  La. 
What does he call you? Rascal?  Val. 
Askal Madam.  
My name is Askal. But the R in Master  
Runs into so, that sometimes it sounds doubtful.  
I must be Knighted, Euphoniae gratia.  
Sir Valentine Askal will come fairly off.  Cam. 
Now note me Mr. Askal, and tell me if ever jealous man came so lightly off.  Enter Hannah. Dance. Han. 
Sir, your collation stays.  Stri. 
'Tis well, Gallants and Ladies  
willt please you enter.  Omn. 
Agreed, agreed, of all sides.  Ex. Omn.   

Act. V.  

Scoen. 1.  Enter Lafoy, Hardy, Matchil. Laf. 
INhospitable! 'tis inhuman, past  
The cruelty of infidels.  Mat. 
Thou speak'st  
But thine own barbarous cruelty, hollow Frenchman.  Laf. 
Abominable hypocrite.  Mat. 
Cunning Villain.  Har. 
Fie Gentlemen, forbear this unknown language.  
And either speak to others' understanding,  
If you speak Justice:  Mat. 
Give me then my son.  Laf. 
Thou hast thy son, give me my son and daughter.  Har. 
Pray Gentlemen, if you'll not hear each other, yet both hear me.  Mat. 
I pray Captain speak.  Har. 
You had his son to foster; he your daughter.  
You faithfully affirm you sent his son  
For England a month since.  Laf. 
And mine own with him.  Har. 
You have confessed you put away his daughter.  Mat. 
And mine own with her, through her disobedience.  
But 'twas upon advertisement by letter,  
That he had first cast off my son to an  
Untimely death.  Har. 
Some Villain forged that letter,  
And let me tell you sir, though in your house,  
Lafoy's an honest and a temperate man.  
You are rash and unadvised, what Lafoy speaks  
I will maintain for truth: what you have done  
I wish you could make good; But I may fear  
You are marked out by your own wilfulness,  
The subject of much woe and sad misfortune.  Mat. 
I know not what I am; but did you know  
The number, and the weight of my afflictions,  
You could not chide me thus without some pity.  Har. 
Indeed I pity you, and now you're calm,  
Know that Lafoy sent his son over with yours,  
And but for some affairs he had with me,  
I'th' Isle of Wight he had embarked himself  
With them, and brought 'em to you.  Mat. 
There's hope then yet  
That my boy lives.  Hard. 
And is come over fear not.  Mat. 
You comfort me, and now Lafoy you're welcome.  Laf. 
But to what comfort, having lost my daughter.  Mat. 
Lost or lost not, mine's with her. And I  
purpose now to be sad no longer. For I think  
I ha' lost my wife too, there's a second comfort.  Har. 
Take an example here Monsieur Lafoy,  
And shake of sadness; mirth may come unlooked for.  Har. 
I ha' lost a son too, a wild roaring Lad,  
About this town. And if I find not him,  
I doubt not I shall find, that he has spent me  
A hundred pound since I last heard of him.  
By the way sir, I sent you a bill of change  
Last month, to pay a hundred pieces for me.  Mat. 
'Twas paid. I have your bill for my discharge.  
How now?  
Ha' you found your Mistress.  Enter Servant. Ser. 
Nor tidings of her, sir.  Mat. 
She has found then some good exercise, I doubt not.  
That holds her so.  Ser. 
Sir, there's a Gentleman  
Craves instant speech with you.  Mat. 
Who? or whence comes he?  Ser. 
He will be known to none before he sees you.  
And, when you see him, he says he thinks you'll know him.  
He's a brave gallant, one o'the Alamodes,  
Nothing but French all over.  Mat. 
Fetch him me quickly,  
It is my son. Gramercy mine own heart,  
That waste not light so suddenly for nothing,  
Pray Gentlemen, whoe'er you see, name no man  
To me, unless I ask you. He comes, he comes.  Enter Cash. 
I'm grown a proper man. Heaven make me thankful.  
Just such a spark was I at two and twenty,  
Set clothes and fashion by. He thinks to try  
If I can know him now. But there I'll fit him.  
With me sir is your business?  Cash. 
I presume  
You do not know me, sir.  Mat. 
As well as he that got him.  
Pray Gentlemen keep your countenances. Not know you sir?  
'Tis like I may have known you here to fore,  
But cannot readily collect; perhaps  
You are much changed by Travel, Time, and Bravery,  
Since I last saw you. There he may find.  
I partly guess, but will not know him yet.  
Good Gentlemen say nothing.  Har. 
What ails he trow.  Cash. 
He knows me, I fear, too soon. If now my plot fail, and he have a Counterplot upon me. I am laid up.  Cash. 
Do you not know me yet sir.  Mat. 
Know you, or know you not sir, what's your business.  Cash. 
You sometimes had a son sir.  Mat. 
Now he comes to me.  
I had sir. But I hear he's slain in France.  
And farewell he. Mark how I handle him.  
And what sir of my son?  Cash. 
He's dead you say.  Mat. 
I muse the Knave asks me not blessing though.  Cash. 
But to supply his loss you have a daughter  
That may endear a son, sir, to your comfort.  Mat. 
Whither now flies he trow! Sir, do you know her.  
Or where to find her?  Cash. 
First upon my knees  
Let me implore your pardon.  Mat. 
Now he comes home: And I can hold no longer.  
My blessing boy, thou meanest. Take it, and welcome  
To a glad father. Rise, and let my tears,  
If joy confirm thy welcome.  Cash. 
I may not rise yet sir.  Mat. 
No? why? what hast thou done? where's young Lafoy?  
My true friend's son here? whom I now must lock  
Up in these arms, amidst a thousand welcomes.  
Where's the young man?  Cash. 
I know not who you mean sir.  Mat. 
Distract me not.  Laf. 
I fear you are distraught.  
I know not him. How should he know my son.  Mat. 
Let me look nearer.  Cash. 
Sir, I am your Prentice.  Mat. 
Whow— whow, whow, who— my thief and Runaway.  Cash. 
Prav sir afford me hearing.  Mat. 
Sir, your cause  
Requires a judge's hearing.  Cash. 
I have put me  
Into your hands, and not without much hope,  
To gain your pardon, and your daughter's love.  Mat. 
'Tis roundly spoken. Gentlemen, I'll tell you.  
This gallant youth, has gallanted away  
A thousand pound of mine.  Cash. 
For your advantage sir: For  
By this way  
Of Gallantry, as you call it, I have traveled  
Through the Resorts and Haunts public and private  
Of all the Gallants in the Town. In brief  
I have found your daughter, where she had been lost  
For ever in your brother strigood's hands.  Mat. 
Canst bring me thither?  Laf. 
Is my daughter with her?  Cash. 
Madam Gabriella, the French Damsel's there.  
And others, men and women, whom you'll know when you come there.  Laf. 
Good sir, let's hasten thither.  Mat. 
You'll aid me, sirs?  Har. 
Yes, with our lives and fortune.  Ex. omnes.  

Scoen. 2. Enter Erasmus, Blithe, Camelion.  Er. 
Be fearless Lady, and upon my life,  
Honour, and faith; you are secure from danger.  Bli. 
Sir, I have put me in your hands you see  
So liberally that I may fear to suffer,  
If not a censure, yet a supposition  
Of too much easiness, in being led  
So suddenly so far towards your desire.  
But my opinion of your nobleness  
Joined with your Protestation, pleads my pardon  
At least it may, the wretchedness considered,  
To which I was enthralled.  Er. 
It is not more my love  
Unto your virtue, and your fair endowments.  
Then pity in me labours your release.  
Nor is it rather to enrich myself.  
Then to save you from so immense a danger,  
As you had fallen into by yielding under  
Your Uncle's weakness in so fond a match.  Bli. 
Bless me from being fool-cloged.  Er. 
Now you are free.  
If you can think yourself so, and but yield  
Unto my present Counsel.  Cam. 
Do so Lady  
Before you are missed within. Here is the Closet,  
And here's the Key in your own hands, And presently I'll fetch a Priest.  Er. 
You see  
I still deal fairly w'ye; and give you power  
To keep guard on yourself.  Bli. 
And yet I yield  
myself your prisoner.  Cam. 
In: somebody comes.  
She will be yours. And let me tell you, sir,  
I wish you as much joy with her, as I  
Have with my Cock.  Er. 
You have befriended me  
In this good enterprise: And one good turn  
Requires another. And now for that I told you,  
Touching your wife, your Cock you so rejoice in.  Cam. 
Alas. alas, good Gentlemen, you would fain  
Ha' me be jealous. Honi soit, you're short.  Enter Val. Hannah. Er. 
Stand by and observe.  Val. 
Do you begin to boggle,  
And when I send for twenty pieces, do you  
Send me but ten?  Cam. 
What's that?  Er. 
Nay mark.  Val. 
I pray,  
What have I had in all by your account.  Han. 
At several times, you have had fifty pounds of my poor husband's money.  Val. 
What's that to the free pleasure of my body  
Which must afford you sweet and lusty payment?  
You froward Monkey. But perhaps you ha' got  
Some new-found Horn-maker, that you may think,  
Deserves your husband's money better, for  
Doing his journeywork, one o'the Monsieurs,  
Or both perhaps i'th' house here under's Antlers,  
It must be so, why else of all the town,  
Must I be one o'th' last that must take notice  
Of your new College here, your brazen face College  
Of feats and fine vagaries? do you grow weary of me?  Han. 
Do you grow wild? speak lower, do you mean to undo me?  Val. 
Will t'other fifty pound undo thee, I have lost  
All that I had within among your Monsieurs.  
And you must yield supply, or lose a friend  
Of me.  Cam. 
What a way would so much money have gone  
In bets at the ducking pond?  Han. 
Will no less serve your turn then fifty?  Val. 
No less. All makes (you know) but a just hundred.  
And there I'll stick; and stick close to thee too,  
Else all flies open. What care I who knows  
Your credit's breach, when you respect not mine.  Cam. 
'Tis too well known already; All's too open.  
My house, my purse, my wife, and all's too open.  Han. 
O me, undone.  Cam. 
Was ever loving husband  
So much abused?  Val. 
inquire among your neighbours.  Er. 
Be patient man.  Cam. 
O thou close whore.  Val. 
Take heed, sir, what you say.  
e'en now you said she was too open, sir.  
You're in two tales already.  Han. 
I fear he's mad  
Or jealous, which is worse.  Val. 
Pish, Honi soit.  
He jealous, he defies it.  Cam. 
Do you deride me?  
Sir, you can witness with me, he confessed  
Receipt of fifty pounds my wife has lent him,  
(False woman that she is) for Horn-making,  
Job journeywork.  Han. 
You are deceived.  Cam. 
I know.  
(At least I think) I am deceived in both.  
My money and thy honesty, but the Laws  
In both shall do me right, or all shall fly for't.  
I'll instantly to council.  Han. 
Hear me first.  Er. 
By all means hear her first. Pray grant her that.  Cam. 
I dare not look on her, lest I be tempted  
To yield unto my shame and my undoing.  Val. 
Will you not hear your Cock, your Nansie,  
Nanny Cock.  Han. 
Time was you would not ha' denied me that.  Cam. 
Nor any thing, if my Cock had but stood upon't.  
Such was my love, but now,  Han. 
But now you're jealous.  Cam. 
Have I not cause?  Han. 
Here's t'other fifty pieces, take 'em sir.  
They are full weight, and truly told.  Val. 
Brave wench.  Han. 
If you will law, sir, you shall law for something.  Cam. 
What dost thou mean?  Val. 
I hope she'll humble him so,  
That he shall keep our chamber-door for us,  
While we get boys for him. A dainty Rogue,  
She tempts me strongly now. Would she would call me  
About it presently.  Han. 
That money sir  
May serve to countenance you among the Gamesters  
Within, that blew you up. The Lady widow  
May think the better of your credit too,  
Being so good i'th' house.  Val. 
I'll straight amongst 'em.  Cam. 
Council me not sir. All my joys are gone.  
I cannot think now what a ducking pond  
Can be good for, except to drown me in't.  Er. 
Alas, poor man, I was in this too busy.  Han. 
Stay, you shall promise me before my husband,  
That you will never more attempt my chastity.  Val. 
That bargain's yet to make. Though before him  
I may say much, I will not stand to that  
For all the wealth he has.  Han. 
You shall protest  
Then, fairly, as you are a Gentleman  
You never have enjoyed me.  Cam. 
I like that.  Val. 
No, no, I cannot safely, for in that  
I shall surrender up my interest  
In's house; and he may warn me out on't. No,  
Take heed o' that. 'Tis not his t'other hundred  
Shall make me slip that hold.  Cam. 
I am lost again.  Han. 
What a bold thief is this! Pray hear me, sir.  
You may remember that I asked you once  
What Countryman you were.  Val. 
Yes, when you first cast your good liking on me, and I told you.  
O'th' Isle of Wight: And what o' that?  Han. 
And you  
Call Captain Hardyman, their father-in-law.  Val. 
You wrong me basely, to say I call him any thing; for he gives me nothing.  Han. 
You wrong him basely. Look you, Can you read.  Val. 
I had done ill to venture (as I ha' done)  
On Salisbury plain else. Hah, what's here  
That daughter, I sent you order to receive for me an hundred pounds. If you find that your brother the Spendthrift Val. Askal, (zooks that I) be in any want, furnish him according to your own discretion.  
I am Val. Askal, where's the money? My hundred  
pound, ha' youit.  Han. 
It seems a Sister of yours had it.  
Ha' you a sister?  Val, 
He had a daughter by my mother, but  
He placed her out a child, I know not where  
Where's that young whore trow? Hannah I think  
her name was. Hang me if I know directly.  Cam. 
My wives name's Hannah, sir.  Han. 
I am that sister, brother, but no whore.  Er. 
Now Val. your brags to make men think you lay with her.  Han. 
You have your hundred pound sir. Look you, husband.  
This is my father's letter which you wrote on.  
That which you dared the devil and Clerks to counterfeit, read your own hand.  Cam. 
Honi soit qui maly pense.  Er. 
I must admire this woman.  Val. 
Dost think I did not know thee.  Han. 
No sir, nor would I that you should,  
Till I had foiled you in your course,  
And had my will to make my husband jealous.  Cam. 
My Cock, my Cock again, my Nanny cock,  
Cock-all my Cock-a-hoop, I am overjoyed,  
See, see thy father too.  Enter Matchil, Hardy, Lafoy, Cash. Mat. 
This is the woman.  
To whom I paid your money.  Hard. 
'Tis my daughter—.  
My blessing on you.— What are you here too.  Val. 
And ask you blessing too. Your hundred pound Has bound me to't. Heaven bless you, Here's half one still, yes, and the better half, for tother's spent.  Hard. 
O you're a great good husband.  Val. 
I would be one. And here's a good rich widow  
Now in the house, your countenance may help me,  
My Sister and my Brother both can tell you,  
How orderly and civilly I live.  Cam. 
O wag.  Hard. 
'Tis like sir, I shall prove your Furtherer.  
What is she?  Val. 
That Merchant's Sister, and a Lady sir.  
I would not have him hear.  Hard. 
Well talk aside then.  [talk aside. Mat. 
In that I'm partly satisfied.  Er. 
I love you sir,  
And waited on your wife but as your spy,  
For fear he might have led her to more folly.  Mat: 
But saw you not two such Damsels here?  Er. 
Here are  
Some in the house that would not be seen by us.  Cash. 
Because they thought you'd know 'em.  Er. 
And if that  
Old fellow be your brother Strigood, 'tis most strange  Mat. 
You know not him here do you?  Er. 
No not I.  Mat. 
'Tis my man Cash.  Er. 
Most wonderful.  Mat. 
We shall know more anon.  Laf. 
Pray haste sir, to discovery: I would fain  
Once see my daughter.  Mat. 
I would see a little  
The fashions o'the house first.  Cash. 
Pray obscure  
yourselves in that by room there, where you may  
See and hear all that passes, nor can any  
Pass out o'th' house without your notice.  
The Gentlemen and I will mix again  
With the Society, if they please.  Er. 
Agreed.  
Within Strigood. Where are you Gentlemen?  Er. 
Come away Val.  Mat. 
Is not that the Hellhounds voice?  Cash 
Yes, 'tis your brother.  Mat. 
Good Captain go with us upon discovery.  Han. 
I'll seat you to see all, and be unseen.  Cam. 
Do so good Cock. Do so now sir, I'll fetch the Priest.  Ex. Han. Hard. Mat. Lafoy. Enter Strigood. Stri. 
O Gentlemen, you have lost such sport, the  
Lady  
And Merchant's wife have been by th' ears.  Cash 
Could not  
The old Knight part 'em?  Stri 
He has done his best,  
And almost lost his eyes in the adventure  
Betwixt the furies' talons.  Er. 
But are they friends again?  Stri. 
And deep in compliment.  
Our school affords no such in act or language.  Enter Lady, Rach. La. 
Sister, Indeed I am too much your trouble.  Ra. 
Pray Madam let me serve you truly truly.  
I'll be your servant for a year and a day  La. 
Indeed, indeed you wrong yourself, I am yours.  Ra. 
I am your servants servant, and will serve  
Under your ladyship's Cook to do you service.  La. 
Indeed you may not.  La. 
If I may not be  
Accepted for your household servant, let me  
Become your charwoman, in any office  
From Cupboard to (lose-stool, I can do all  
To do your Ladyship service.  Val, 
This now savours of Compliment indeed.  Ra. 
In sooth, 'tis sooth, forsooth the tale I tell you.  Enter Neh. Neh. 
Well acted mother.  La. 
You're too obsequious  
Good gentle Sister.  Ra. 
I am short of good.  
Gentle I grant I am, for I bite nobody,  
Command me then sweet Madam.  Neh. 
And very well acted Nant.  La. 
O you shall pardon me.  Ra. 
I am no Pope, for your sake would I were.  La. 
Your courtesy o'ercomes me.  Ra. 
O not so.  
I wish it could forsooth, would it were better for you.  Neh. 
Exceeding well acted o'both sides.  
Mother and Aunt forsooth, Amardla you have done't  
Better than the two school-mistresses today  
Could do their Whatshicomes, their Compliments  
I think you call 'em. But I ha' lost my Mistress  
To compliment withal. Mrs. Blithe Tripshort  
Has outstripped me, Amardla that she has.  La. 
Where's her wise Uncle should ha' looked to her.  Neh. 
He's crying all about the house for her,  
But cannot find her. How shall I have her now?  La. 
Thou shalt not have her boy, she's nought.  Neh. 
Then he's  
nought too. You shan't have him.  La. 
Nor will, I fear not.  Neh. 
Think of the Gentleman, mother that outfaced  
The Frenchman for me. I would you had a thousand such in France now.  Val. 
God-a-mercy boy.  Er. 
Peace, hear a little more.  Enter Camelion. Cam. 
Sir; come away.  
I have found a careless Curate, that has nothing but a bare Coat too loose shall chop't up presently. And give him but a piece, he'll fear no Cannon.  Er. 
I am bound to thee for ever.  Ex. Cam. Er. Stri. 
Whither goes he?  Val. 
No matter, let him go truss perhaps.  Enter Whimlby, Ephraim. Eph. 
I say she is i'th' house.  Whim. 
She's gone, she's gone.  Whim. 
She's flown out of a window, or chimney-top then.  
I'm sure I watched the door with epen eyes  
e'er since you entered, as my Lady charged me,  
Lest her child might slip out to play i th' street.  Neh. 
And I am here you see. He cannot see  
He has no more eyes than a sucking pig,  
And yet he weeps like a roasted one.  Whim. 
I am abused,  
And render me my Niece,  
You have stolen her for your son.  La. 
My son defies her,  
As I do you, old whining withered fellow,  
That has no moisture in him but for tears.  Val. 
That is my Cue. A young well governed man  
Were fitter, Madam.  Ra. 
Where have you been servant?  Val. 
I speak to my Lady.  Ra. 
My Lady, I think you said.  
Are you so stout sir, hah?  La. 
I rather think he plays the cunning hypocrite  
With his false tears, and packed her hence himself  Ra. 
My Lady minds you not, and I can learn  
To give you a broad side too.  Eph. 
Madam, that cannot be, for I have seen  
All that went out, or came into the house▪  
Since you. Here came a Church man in ere while.  Whim. 
A Churchman! then I fear she's closely married unto her woe and mine.  Neh. 
Perhaps to me.  
Behind my back you said she would do so.  
And before him came in your brother Matchil.  La. 
My brother, who her husband?  Eph. 
Yes, with others.  Ra. 
My husband, I think you said What a foul house these washing days make?  Val. 
Nay, 'tis no Jest Now Ladies let me tell you,  
And sad Sir Swithin; pray lend all your ears.  Stri. 
Cash, we are betrayed Cash if we be not nimble.  
I smell a Fox. high thee up quickly Cash,  
And hurry down the wenches We'll make bold with  
My Lady's Coach to hurry us away.  Enter Matchil, Hardy, Lafoy, Hannah. Mat. 
But not too fast, Go sir, fetch down the wenches.  
Thou shameless Reprobate. Dost thou hang thy head now?  
I'll take a course to hang the rest o'thee.  
Your Ladyships well met at the new school.  
So is your charwoman. Ha' you profited  
By the devil's doctrine here? you weep sin Swithin  
For the iniquity of the times.  Neh. 
You mean  
His Niece, pray Uncle did you meet her,  
She's gone away too, after my Cousin Joyce,  
And the French maid, I think, she is here again.  Enter Eras. Blithe, Camelion. 
Amardla, wipe your eyes, and look Sir Swithin,  
The t'other honest Gentleman has found her.  
And let him take her for his pains for me.  Er. 
I thank your love. But sir, 'tis your consent  
We only seek.  Mat. 
Sir Swithin, let 'em have it,  Mat. 
This is the Gentleman I would have spoke for:  
In birth, in means, in person every way  
Deserving her. Take him upon my word.  Hard. 
And Madam, since you stick but upon jointure,  
Having heard lately well of his husbandry.  Han. 
Thank a good sister, sir.  Hard. 
I will secure you  
Three hundred pounds a year, your brother knows me.  Mat. 
With make good his word. Agree by yourselves.  Lad. 
Upon these terms, 'tis like we shall agree.  
Sir Swithin are you pleased.  Whim. 
Pleased or displeased.  
It seems they are married.  Cam. 
Yes, I assure you,  
I saw their hands joined, and I heard 'em both  
Answer the Priest.  Whim. 
I will no longer whine.  
Heaven give you joy, As you're your own, you're mine.  Cam. 
There are more weddings i'th' house, your daughters,  
Are linked by this time to the two young Frenchmen.  Mat. 
His daughters? ours I fear? what French? where are they?  Enter Cash, two son's, Joy, Gab. Cash. 
Here sir, undone I fear.  Mat, 
What are you married.  Mat. 
Jun. Sir, she is mine, I must and will maintain it.  Laf. 
Jun. And she is mine.  Laf. 
This is your son. And this  
Is mine.  Mat. 
This is your daughter. And this mine. Each married to her brother.  Laf. 
Jun. Mon Pere Je desire vestre Benediction Jour pour moy & ma femme.  Laf. 
You are lost children all, was ever thread  
By fate so crossly spun, so crossly wed?  Mat. 
I know not how to Bless you, or to look  
On your incestuous eyes.  Laf. 
Jun. What is dat Incest,  
We have commit noting, we have no time,  
Since we were marry for so much as kiss,  
Begar no point so much as but one kiss.  Har. 
Be not dismayed. These marriages are none.  
The error of the persons nullifies  
The verbal ceremony; and 'tis well  
They passed not unto further rites: I'll find  
A lawful way to clear all this. And then  
As you and they consent, they shall exchange  
And marry in due order.  Laf. 
Jun. Sir I tanck you.  
You've speak very well. And we shall make.  
De exshange presently. A new exchange,  
De new Exshange indeed, for de husbands  
To shange the wifes before they can be weary.  
Prenez mon frere, la voici la 'une pour lautre.  
Dear, is one for another:  Har. 
Is each party  
Agreed, and so content?  Ma. 
J. Gab. We are.  Jo. 
And we.  Laf. Ju. 
we we, I ensuis tresbien contult.  Mat. Ja. 
Provided that we have our father's leaves and counsels.  Mat. 
Can you seek fathers leaves or counsels now,  
That have run from 'em in your disobedience,  
Into the snares of hell: too far I fear  
To be released. O hell-bred Villain.  Stri. 
Your brother o' one side.  Mat. Ju. 
Lend but a patient care.  
And by my hopes of your desired pardon  
I'll quit you of your fear. 'Tis true, my duty  
At my Arrival should have winged me to you.  
But hearing of your late, ill talked on marriage.  Mat. 
O that root of mischief,  
And of my sister's flight as loth to appear to you,  
As to presume a welcome; I was curious  
First to observe the Town, and taste the news;  
When more by Providence than accident,  
Here we made choice of lodging, saw and liked  
The practices of the Society,  
Until this wicked man; (who still presumes  
To call you brother,) finding us youthful strangers,  
And (as he might suppose) wanton—  Mat. 
He made  
A bargain with you for their Maiden heads.  Cash 
told me that, and how that hellish purpose  
Was virtuously declined.  Stri. 
O counterfeit Cash.  Mat. 
But must you therefore, knowing whose sons you were.  
Marry you knew not whom.  Mat. Ju. 
Pardon me, sir.  
Our loves were noble, and by due enquiry,  
Fetch't from each others faithful breast, the knowledge  
Of each other.  Mat. 
What! and marry then  
Each his own Sister? Riddle me not to death.  Mat. Ju. 
Sir, I have done. And now that I have said  
The worst that might have happened by his practice,  
To make his shame or his repentance greater,  
Who only was my aim. We are not married,  
None of us all are married one to other.  Cam. 
No, I assure you sir. howe'er I lied  
At their request, (small matter for a friend)  
I saw all the hurt the Priest did hear today.  
That was upon them two there.  Er. 
Thank you sir.  Mat. 
You shall be then: And so take hands in earnest.  
Is't not a double Match Lafoy?  Laf. 
Without  
All manner of condition I consent.  Mat. 
I am full of joy.  Cash. 
O can you pardon me sir.  Mat. 
Good boy, good boy. I know not how a City  
Could stand without such Prentices. And hope  
This wants few such. But what canst thou now say  
Brother, o' one side for thy self. Speak quickly,  
While the good humour holds me to be friends  
With all the world: yet yonder's one lies heavy  
Athwart my stomach.  Stri. 
You're full of joy you say.  
And I say had it been within my power,  
To have broke your heart, I had done't. Therefore in me  
Be comforted and love me; for I find  
I have no power to hurt you, and will therefore  
Attempt no further.  Mat. 
Brotherly spoke in troth.  
And worthily worth an hundred mark a month,  
Shall ha''t.  Stri. 
Know then into the bargain, that  
I forged the letter that suggested to you  
My nephew's death, in hope of means that way.  Mat. 
Honestly said again. Now what say you?  Ra. 
I say that I am humbled on my knees.  
I beg your pardon.  Mat. 
All's too well methinks.  
But hark, before you break up school, let's have  
One frisk, one fling now, one careering dance,  
And then pack up.  Omn. 
Agreed, Agreed, Agreed.  Stri. 
Play then Les tous ensembles.  Neh. 
That's the French name on't, Uncle, 'tis in Dutch  
called All-to-mall; and I call it in English.  
Omnium Gatherum, 'tis the daintiest dance.  
We had it here today: I and my mother,  
My Aunt and all can dance in't, as well as the best.  
With every one in their own footing. Now observe.  Dance. Mat. 
You have done well. Now pray let's break up school.  Hard. 
But yet not break up house. My son and daughter.  
Have given me power to call their Supper mine.  
To which I'll give you welcome, Ale and Wine.  Deus dedit his quoque finem, laus Deo.   
FINIS.   


These BOOKs following are sold by Andrew Crook, at the Green Dragon in St. Paul's Churchyard.  


In folio.  
A Large and complete Concordance to the Bible, by Samuel Newman.  
The Bible of a large English, or black Letter, used in Churches.  
The Bible of a fair London Print.  
'The Bible in Welsh.  
Leviathan, or the Matter, Form and Power of a Commonwealth, Ecclesiastical and Civil, by Thomas Hobbs.  
Ben Jonson's Works, in two Volumes.  
The History of Don Quixote.  
Doctor Kellet of the Sacrament of our Lords Supper.  
All Homer's Works translated by George Chapman.  
Orlando Furioso, by Sir John Harrington.  
Psyche, or Loves Mystery, by Jo. Beaumont.    


In quarto.  
rider's Dictionary.  
Thomae Thomasii Dictionarium.  
Doctor Gauden, of the Ministry and Ministers of the Church of England.  
— His three Sermons upon several occasions.  
The Fables of Aesop, paraphrased in verse, and adorned with Scripture, by John Ogilby.  
Doctor Lightfoot, his Harmony on the four Evangelists.  
— His Commentary on the Acts of the Apostles.  
— His Description of the Temple  
— His Description of the service of the Temple.  
Ten godly and faithful Sermons by John Gore, late Minister at St. Peter's in Cornhill.  
Doctor Day his Treatise of the Resurrection, 1 Cour 15. 16.  
Burton of bowing at the Name of Jesus.  
Mr. Thomas Shepherd, of Liturgies, power of the Keys, and of the Catholic visible Church, in answer to Mr. John Ball.  
Dr. Twisse of Predestination, in answer to Mr. Cotton.  
The Swedish Intelligencer, containing the principal passages and actions done in the best parts of Christendom.  
Virgil translated Grammatically by John Brinsley.  
A philosophical and Chemical Treatise of Fire and Salt.  
Clement, (the blessed Paul's fellow-labourer in the Gospel) his Epistle to the Corinthians.  
The Protestant's Calendar.  
The Mysteries of Art and Nature in four parts, the first of Waterworks, the second of Fireworks, the third of Drawing, Limming, Painting, Engraving, and Etching, the fourth of sundry experiments, by John Bate.  
William Lithgow his Travels.  
A Sermon preached at Newport in the Isle of Wight, Octob 1648. in the time of the Treaty, on Gall 5. 22. 23. by Robert Saunderson D. in D. and Chaplain to the late King.  
An excellent Treatise of the interest of Princes and States of Christendom.  
A Pathway to Piety, containing 

1. Christ's Prayer expounded.  
2. A Communicant instructed.  
3. A Direction to live well.  
4. A Direction to die well.    
Doctor Swadlin his Manuel of devotions, suiting each day with prayers and meditations suitable to the works of the Day, as also each man's calling, she Nobleman, the Soldier, the Lawyer, the Tradesman, the Sick man, the dying man.  
A Brief of the Bible's History.