The Second Part OF THE COMMITTEE-MAN CURRIED.  
By the first Author, S. S.  
— Stulta est clementia, cùm tot ubique  
Vatibus occurras periturae parcere Chartae.  
Printed in the Year 1647.   

The argument of the first and second Part of the Committee-man curried.  
SVck-dry, one o'th' Committee throng,  
Forgets himself, and sleeps too long,  
And vexed, that so he lost much pelf,  
Doth cudgel his Domestic Elf,  
Common Curse, one borne to tyrannize,  
A gatherer of the Excise,  
With , a two faced Priest  
Within a Tavern meet and feast,  
And there when warmed with wine, bewray  
How they the Commons do betray:  
And after both incensed with spite  
Within a wood they meet, and fight.  
A faithful subject Loyalty,  
One that had fought for Sovereignty,  
Droven to want, and needy cares,  
Unto his uncle's house repairs,  
Of whom he's not the least respected,  
But as a castaway rejected:  
Yet after by a wily train,  
He threescore pounds, from him doth gain.  
Shallow Brains, Common Curse his Clark.  
Doth wed a widow in the dark:  
 had the plot hit right,  
Had dayen with her, her marriage night.  
But both (detected by good hap)  
Are taken in a watery trap:  
Horn, a contented cuckold, keeps  
A wife, maintains him while he sleeps;  
Suckdrie with him often barters,  
That he might come between her quarters:  
Is taken in the act of shame,  
By one that coveted the same,  
Is beaten by him almost dead,  
Or (if it please you) Curried.   

The Prologue.  
A Second part (you'll say) the first we'll swear  
Was neatly writ, though not one good line there:  
Another gives his Vote, and says fie, fie,  
The plot was poor, the Author's brains were dry,  
And each man gives his Doom; some not afeard  
To pronounce judgement  the cause 've heard,  
You not the Author, but yourselves disgrace;  
And pray considered, for here lies the case,  
It oft falls out in penny worths of wit,  
As in all bargains else, men ever get  
All they can in; and will have London measure  
A handful over, in their very pleasure,  
Besides you might consider, that the Age  
Allows not wit to enter on the Stage  
As formerly, the sweat of Jonson's brain,  
Nor yet the Comic fletcher's easier strain,  
Which once a Hackney Coach conveyed you to,  
Where you sat scorning all the rain could do,  
And for your twelvepences a piece could sit  
As stern browed judges of all fresher wit:  
And therefore since'tis so, you Gentiles all,  
W●uld blast your own bliss, to be critical,  
The Author praise you, for to think the store  
Of wit is wasted by those were before,  
And that the fatness of the soil being spent,  
men's brains grown barren, you'd not raise the rent.  Exit.  

The persons acting who present not in the first Part.  
Urinal, a Physician. A Tailor, two Sergeants. Sleep & Death, according as they are usually fancied. Poverty. Harlotto Sneaks wife. Three Creditors. A Maid. Servants.   

THE COMMITTEE-MAN CURRIED.  

Act 1.  

Scene 1.  Enter Sneake and Shallow-brains. Sneake. 
THy father left thee much money, and but a small quantity of wit to manage it. What— after all this to marry a widow, a kind of chewed meat— what a fantastical stomach hast thou, that thou canst not eat of a dish till another first cut of it— who would wash after another, when he might have fresh water enough for ask.  Enter . Time-Serv. 
M. Shallow Brains, and M. Sneake, the whole company are troubled at your abrupt departure— your fair wife M. Shallow-brains is very sensible of your departure—  Shallow-Br. 
Why here Sneake tells me, widows are but chewed meat— and has set such a soil upon my appetite, that should I see her, I should go nigh to vomit.  Time-Ser. 
Fie M. Sneake, that you with rude breath should go about to extinguish Hymen's taper ere it is through lighted. Come hither M. Shallow-brains,— M. Sneak, give me leave to pity thee, who wouldst feign condemn that which I will make thee confess natural; and the sooner the better.  Sneak. 
As how, as how?  Time. 
First, I will prove that a widow is rather the chewer, than the chewed; for should we not account him strangely fantastical, that would spend an hour in pulling on a straight boot, when he might be furnished with enough that would come on easily, and do him more service, and as much credit▪ wine first broached drinks not half so well as after awhile drawing: wouldst thou not account him a mad man, who whilst he might fair and easily ride on the beaten road way, should trouble himself with breaking up of gaps; a well-wayed horse will sooner convey thee to thy journey's end, than an unbackt Filly: 'tis Princelike to marry a widow, for 'tis to have a Taster.  Shal. 
I begin to have my stomach come to me again.  Sneak. 
I, but Sir, I pray resolve me, whether it be not better, if a man must be in prison, to lie in a private room, then in the hole.  Time-ser. 
I shall answer you with Pythagoras in his 2. Sect. de Cuniculorum, that it is better to lie in the hole, then sit in the stocks.— Come M. Shallow-brains, the widow you have married, I hope, will never give you cause to curse the time I joined your hands: she is fair and demure; come M. Sneake, will you along?  

The jovial crew will blame our tardy stay,  
And may they make the bridegroom drunk to day.   Exeunt Manet Sneak. Sneak. 
I'll follow you— I ne'er yet affected a woman but as an house of office, to exonerate nature for that time.  

Women enjoyed, what ere before 've been,  
Are like Romances read, or sights once seen;  
Or like to Majesty, which we desire  
Often to see, yet if too much we tyre,  
Fruition's dull, and spoils the Play much more,  
Then if one read, or knew the plot before.  
'Tis expectation makes a blessing dear,  
All joys were nothing, knew we what they were.   Exit.  

SCENE 2.  Enter a Tailor. 2. Sergeants. Taylor. 
he's somewhat tall of stature, his hair somewhat inclining to black; his chin has no bush, save a little down, enough to give notice to the world, he now grows mannish.  1. Ser. 
Is he a blade, will he fence, and use his spit dexterously?  Tay. 
O, no, he wears no sword, the Committees have taken away your fears in that point, and ordered, that on pain of close imprisonment no Cavalier shall manage steel.  2. Ser. 
I like that well, Rapio, is the word, what's the debt?  Tay. 
Nine pounds, I'll assure you.  1. Ser. 
Are you sure he's retired into his house?  Tay. 
Most certain, 'tis but a little waiting, I shall requite your stay, you shall find me at the next Tavern.  Exit. 2 Ser. 
Stand close, I hear one coming.   

SCENE 3.  Enter Loyalty. Loy. 
He's not at home, this Poverty 's so hated a disease, men fly from't as the Pox or Plague.— No matter, to morrow I'll embark for France, and prove, if with the climate I can change my fortune; but before I go, I have discovered that which cheers my soul, the Statesmen that so long have reveled, now hang their heads like full-eared corn, two of them supped last night in London at a place where I than was, & in the midst of supper one asked what a clock 'twas, and when 'twas told, started, as if he had been to run a race,— there's some great storm towards, whispering in every corner; and there has been about the town to day a murmuring and a buzzing, such as men use to make when they do fear to vent their fears.  1 Ser. 
'tis he, upon him, upon him.  Loy. 
How now my friends, what means this outrage?  1. Ser. 
Quietly, 'twill be your best way.  Loy. 
Best way, for what?  2 Ser. 
Why 'twill be your best way, because there is no other; Rapio, that's the word, you must along Sir.  Loy. 
Is that the word, then here's my sword.  runs at them, one 'scapes away. Exit. Ser. 
Murder, murder, murder, h'as killed one of the King's Officers, murder, murder.  Loy. 
The people begin to gather, I must not stay.  Enter Constable, People. Con. 
What's the matter?  Ser. 
Here Sir, here,— oh a man-mender, a man-mender has broached me in so many places, all the liquor in my body will run out— Oh, oh!  Con. 
In troth neighbour, and in good deed saw, I am very sorry for your hurts; on my life this was one of the carriers.  Ser. 
Cavaliers you mean.  Con. 
I Cavalier, would I had him in hold, the Committee, I believe would order him.  Ser. 
Hang the Committee, o shall I bleed to death? some help good people.  Con. 
Alas neighbour,— see, h'as tapped him at the wrong end too, he has been busy with you here behind (as they say) lend a hand some of you; I charge some— in the King's name to follow me.  Exeunt.   

Act 2.  

Scene 1.  Enter again Loyalty. Loyalty. 
I Shall not scape them sure, which way now? there's no passage that way:— a door, and open too.  Enter again. Exit. 
Where am I now?  Enter a Maid. Maid. 
O Mr. Lovelesse, my Mistress hath been in such fears for you—  Loy. 
Ha', for me, 'tis fit I apprehend her, and take the opportunity, (aside) Alas I could not help it.  Maid. 
Sir, she's i'th' garden walks, hoping your presence.  Loy. 
This is pretty. (aside.) I'll to her instantly.  Maid. 
She hath been so distempered.  Loy. 
How shall I bear myself? (aside.) I am very sorry for that.  Maid. 
Come Sir, my Mistress will rejoice to hear your entrance.  Loy. 
I'll venture in, Love guide me right this night, and lovers shall restore thee back again those eyes the Poets took so boldly from thee. I'll henceforth learn to love a woman better than I was wont: who knows how this may prove?  

The world is of a vast extent, we see,  
And must be peopled; children there must be.   Exit with the maid.  

SCENE 2.  Enter Rebellion, Sneake. Reb. 
What caused their quarrel?  Sneak. 
This Sir: because when you, my Master, and M. , were with him at the Sun Tavern, you went away and left him sleeping on a bench, which act he took so heinously that the next day he sent a furious challenge to my Master.  Reb. 
The place.  Sneak. 
Hyde-park.  Rebellion. 
Tell M. Suckdry I will be there and back him, as his second (vengeance pursue him, why made he choice of me) I have had vigour in my arm ere now, and yet I can do somewhat, tell him I'll meet him at the hour appointed. Farewell.  Sneak. 
I shall inform him Sir.  (Exit) Reb. 
The death of slaves pursue thee:— So now my hour of death draws near, I could not force my tongue to a denial— I shall meet them at more distance, than a country Gentle-womman, sees the Lions at first time— I'll go (though by the way I fall to ashes.)  exit Rebel.  

SCENE 3.  Enter , with Harlat● Shallow-brains wife. Time-ser. 
Is he drunk? Har. So dead, that you may pound him in a mortar, or shake him in a blanket stuck with pins, and he ne'er cry for help.  Time-ser. 
Very good fortune, this favour does me ample amends for all thy frowns: Sweet 'tis thy marriage night, the thought of that creates an earthly heaven, while now the fool thy husband snorts in's bed, and dreams, that passing a rough tide, he arrives at Cuckold's haven; I'm swallowed in the Ocean of thy beauty, and thus I spread my arms for help.  Pulls her to him in a chair, they kiss. Shallow-brains in his shirt peeps through the Arras. Shal. 
So, close Priest, I shall pound you with her, my wit is not so shallow, but it can prompt me to save my head from being grafted on my marriage night: I, so, revel with your salt lips, the other sport is fulsome.  Har. 
Thou knowest I ever loved thee, and that I took this fool but for a Stolen, his money thee and I will revellout in  and banquets.  Shal. 
O where!  Time-Ser. 
Ha', ha', ha', was ever such a novice, to fill the bed himself his marriage night,— sweet  go to a chamber, and there we will feast love unto the height, and use variety in lust, which shall beget perpetual appetite.—  Shal. 
I'll circumvent you— Sir.—  Har. 
But now I think on't, first, I pray resolve me Sir, do you find no remorse at no time, that you who are obliged to be a guide to others, should so forget the way yourself?  Time-ser. 
And what of that? let men do as I say, and not as I do; is man enslaved more than the beasts? Does not the womb of one fair spring bring unto the earth many sweet Rivers, that wantonly do one another chase, And in one bed, kiss, mingle and embrace: nice observations cleave to easy souls that love to be deluded.  Har. 
Can you deceive the world so?  Time-ser. 
As easily as Whores their jealous husbands; I must seem holy to the public view, else there's no come in, 'tis outsides men are taken with, I can on the Fast-days press abstinence, and on Thanksgiving days, teach how we ought rejoice with moderation, on Sabbath days exhort to strict devotion, and keeping of that day inviolate, else not a penny from the Sister's purses but oh away profane.  Shal. 
I'm very cold, that villain will undo me.  Har. 
Sir, you are absolute in hypocrisy, an art I'm not to learn, but I that have been false myself, would feign rely on your fidelity,— will ye prove true unto me, Shallow, lightning blast 'em, would they would rise.  Time-ser. 
By this and this love's breakfast, [they kiss] and by his feasts to come, by all the beauty in this face.—  Har. 
O hold, swear not by that, sickness and mischance, are great devourers, and when there is not in these cheeks and lips left red enough to blush at perjury, when you shall make it, what shall I do then?  Time-ser. 
Our souls by that time, sweet, will by long custom so acquainted be, they will not need that duller truchman flesh,  

Mean time we'll teach love how to aim aright,  
While we do wound each other in his sight,   Shal. 
Ha', ha', ha', they're taken in my toil.—  They arise, and as they go out, fall in at a trap-door, seen to be opened by Shallow-braine. 
Now M. , and my Bride, how stoops down. do you like your .  Time-ser. in the Vault. 
We are undone, this vault is full of mire not water.  Har. 
I do confess my fault, sweet husband draw me out.  Shal. 
I have no ambition to be hanged for you sweetheart, nor for the lecherous Priest there, here one of you bind yourself to this rope, and view the light again,— come now.  pulls up Harlot. Shal. 
So now pull you up the Priest, or let him lie there; I think I have so cooled you, you are this night unfit for Venus' sports, to morrow I'll proclaim ye.  

Hereafter men for this my name will hollow,  
And will esteem them fools, shall count me shallow.   Exit. Time-ser. 
I sink deeper, and deeper, was I ordained to perish thus in mud.  Har. 
here Sir, fasten your body to this rope,— if my weak strength can help come Sir.  Pulls him up dropping wet and dirty. Time-ser. 
My  are weightier than if I were armed cap a pe for the battle, where shall I shift myself?  Har. 
I shake like to a lamb new yeaned upon a sheet of snow; O fatal chance, this misery Sir you have brought upon me!  Times. 
I thought he had been so drunk the cannon's iron throat could not have waked him; let's seek some place to shift us.  

They pass through whirlpools, and deep Ills do shun,  
Who weigh the event,  that the action's done.   Exeunt.   

Act 3.  

Scene 1.  Enter Loyalty. Loy. 
WHat have I done unto the Fates that they should thus find ways to ruin me, this whore betrayed me to my death, and like the Siren useth to allure those that pass by, to pray on 'em, for none live here but whores and villains, I have escaped their hands, this house is full of thresholds and trapdoors, would I were out: I was i'th' cellar too where maids were couched, I laid my hand (groping for my way) upon one of them and and she began to squeak; I must submit to chance, and think on some way to relieve myself in meet time, wait with patience.  

We must not let our grief be too profound,  
Man's pain should be no greater than his wound.    

SCENE 2.  Enter Suckdry, Com-curse, Shall brains, as in Hyde-park. Common-cur. 
You have observed your time, are nobler than I thought you would have been;— where is your second?  Suck. 
Where's yours?  Com. 
Here.  Suck. 
What Shallow-brains?  Shal. 
Yes Sir; Shallow-brains, who intends  that his Master shall be wronged for to beat out your brains?—  Suck. 
I like thy humour well, go on and prosper, my friend stays long.  Enter Rebellion, and standing afar off gazeth upon them. Reb. 
As I live, they are so foolish, as to fight, see where they stand. I would give twenty pound now for Fortunatus wishing hat, that in a trice I might fly home again,— I had thought not to have found them there.—  Suck. 
Now yonder comes my friend.  Com. 
Yes, he steals along as he had robbed some hen-roost.  Reb. 
I am descried, nor can I now give back, fear seizes on me like the hand of death.  
— Gentlemen I am come but may not fight.  — Com. 
How not not fight,— Reb. No Sir, this night I had a vision, that certified me, if I should fight to day 'twere as much as my life's worth.  Com. 
Base coward get thee home again, draws: Come M. Suckdry let us now meet in single battle here, and struggle till we want our souls.  Suck. 
Alas Sir, you see my second doth refuse to fight, and besides, as yet I have not made my peace with heaven, I ne'er thought on't till now.—  Com. 
Under this tree (kneel down) and quickly end thy orisons.—  Suck. 
Alas Sir, this place is not convenient, let me go home, and any other day you shall appoint, I will be sure to meet you.  Reb. 
They're busy in discourse, J'll take the opportunity,— runs— away.—  Suck. 
Slave, J'll be thy confessor, thou art not worthy of my sword, a wand were better,— cuts a cudgel,— I'll be your ghostly father,— nay stir not, if thou dost, J'll cut thee into Atoms, and let the humorous wind to fan the o'er thee earth.  Suck. 
Oh, oh! good Sir, let me go home, J'll enter into bond to give forty pounds.  Com. 
So perishing sailors pray to storms, and so they hear again, (bangs him)— sirrah confess unto me, I know I have been every way as guilty as thyself, but Tve repent of what hath been, and left my cursed calling, and now J'll Curry thee into a better Creed.  Suck. 
O hold Sir, I will confess.  Com. 
Come then.  Suck. 
I do acknowledge, I have hitherto pretended zeal to God and love to goodness only to blind the eyes of men.—  Com. 
So.  Suck. 
And I have contrary to the very light of knowledge extolled those men for virtuous, faithful ones, whom I have known to be the worst of Traitors▪—  

Men that turn black to white, and can with ease  
Form holy earth, the rivers and the seas.   Com. 
Good, very good.  Suck. 
That I with them have daily hoarded that coin the foolish Commons have brought in,— swayed with a foolish zeal, and that I have used all means to impede what ere did tend to peace.  Com. 
Hold, my ears are blistered sore already, and should I hear thee further, I fear they will drop off; be gone, I'll leave thee, wishing thy conversion; the constitution of my soul agrees not with this climate; I'll leave this Isle ere long▪  

Where want keeps virtue down, and none can rise,  
Without they're o'th' Committees, or th'excise.   Suck. 

I've scaped with life, I'll home, and if I can.  
I will till death be a Committee-man.   Exit.   

Act 4.  

Scene 1.  Loyalty put forth in a bed, with him Urinal a Physician, and three Creditors. Loy. 
YOu know what's my disease Sir.  Vri. 
Yes, and the cure.  Loy. 
If it take, I will reward your friendship: is my uncle sent for?  Vri. 
Yes.  Loy. 
My friends, I've sent for one able enough to pay you.  1. Cred. 
But is he willing Sir?  Loy. 
For that you must remain in hope, two hours will not expire ere you receive your money, or be for ever out of hope.  2. Cred. 
Of payment? Heaven forbidden it sir.  Loy. 
I'll join with you in the same prayer, but if it happen that unawares you do receive your money, you'll not be timorous to trust anew.  1. Cred. 
You shall not want for cloth.  2. Cred. 
For Linen.  3. Cred. 
For money.  Loy. 
I thank you all.  Enter a Servant. Ser. 
Mr. Rebellion is without.  Loy. 
Admit him in. Sir, von know your charge, [to the Physician] Now must I practise my disguise.  Enter Rebellion. Reb. 
How now nephew, although I once resolved forever to desert thee, yet natural affection cannot be hid: what's your desire?  Loy. 
You see Sir, in what a despicable state I am worn quite away with sickness, my soul now ready to take her flight to him that lent her me.— Oh, Oh, I can no more.  Seems to swoon. Reb. 
Help for God's sake, rub him, rub him, so, so, so, how do you nephew.  Loy. 

Death deals with me, but as with tortured men,  
Whom states preserve, only to wrack again.   Reb. 
We must all die, the sisters spin no cables for us mortals: you're his Physician I suppose Sir, what's his disease?  Phy. 
A burning Fever Sir.  Reb. 
Me thinks he looks too pale for that.  Phy. 
Alas the operation's secret, which renders him the worse, it is Aurum palpabile alone can cure him.  Loy. 
I quite despair of life, were't thou a second Aesculapius Doctor, thy skill were spent in vain, on me only thus Sir I would desire you Uncle, as you are virtuous, and would not be thought guilty of obstructing my journey unto heaven, you would before my death discharge those debts I am to these engaged, which when I see performed, I shall with joy departed; embrace my death with as much willingness as shipwreck Seamen would the shore, or Malefactors a repreive: till that be done, my soul is much distracted, and worldly thoughts encountering those are pious, maintain fierce war within me. Oh! oh! oh!  Reb. 
Ha', I'm caught, [scratches his head] cannot for credit of my own humanity, deny for to perform his hests; I shall be rid of him at once: what's he obliged to pay you?  to the creditors. 1 Cred. 
Twenty pound Sir to me for cloth.  2. Cred. 
Thirty to me Sir for linen.  3. Cred 
Twenty he borrowed of me, beside the interest.  Reb. 
It must be so, I'll pay it, Gentlemen you shall have your money.  Cred. 
We thank you Sir.  Reb. 
The world shan't say I damned my brother's son. May I use a servant?  1 Cred. 
O yes Sir: Richard, come hither.  Enter servant. Ser. 
Your pleasure.  Reb. 
Go you my friend home to my house,— Thou knowest.  Ser. 
Yes Sir I do.  Reb. 
And bid Thomas bring me the sealed bag that lies in my Study window; this key will further him.  Ser. 
I shall Sir.  Reb. 
How far you nephew?  Loy. 
Sir, now my soul is pacified, and I shall pass away as in a pleasing dream; pray heaven the fatal Sisters cut not into my vital thread, until I see the money paid: pray take your seat uncle, M. Urinal pray sir down; Gentlemen, pray fill those chairs: I've a device ere I depart the world, worthy your observation.  Recorders: Enter Sleep and Death, bearing a young man betwixt them naked, they lay him down, dance about him. Enter Poverty, she bewails over him, and danceth with the rest. Death and Sleep seem to strive for the body, Sleep prevaileth. Enter Mammon, and placing two bags of gold under either arm, he reviveth, danceth with Sleep and Poverty, then Exeunt. Reb. 
What's the conceit of this?  Loy. 
This is a vision Sir, forewarns what is to come, and is an excellent preparative for me.  Reb. 
I understand not what was meant, but much I like their postures.  Enter Thomas with a sealed bag. Thom. 
Sir, here's the gold you sent for.  Reb. 
O very good, Gentlemen draw near, here's pen, ink, and paper, give me acquittance, and subscribe your names, then take your money.  Cred. 
Willingly.  They writ. Reb. 
Let me see, there's twenty powers gold on the board. pounds for you Sir, there's thirty for you Sir, there's 20. for you Sir. Now nephew, I trust, your peace being made on earth, you will make peace with heaven, I have discharged your debts.  Loy. 
I thank you Sir, leaps out of the bed. This hearty love of yours has wrought my perfect cure.  
Fa, lafoy, fa, lafoy, lafoy, fa, lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, la.  dances. Reb. 
Does he counterfeit? I'm fooled out of my money, these varlets have spread a net to catch me threescore and ten pounds,— I shall run mad, I can't contain myself, what shall I do?  

I'll get an halter, and on the next tree  
I'll put an end unto my misery.   Exit. Loy. 

Come, let's away, Rebellion hanged and dead,  
Loyalty with applause will show his head.   Exeunt.   

Act 5.  Enter Horn alone. Horn. 
WOman besides the trouble, has ever been thought a rent-charge, and though through the vain curiosity of man, it has often been enclosed, yet it has seldom been brought to improve or become profitable, it faring with married men (for the most part) as with those that are at great charges, wall in grounds, and place, who cheaper might have eaten Melons elsewhere, then in their own garden Cucumbers, they are creatures (for the most part) so beholden to Venus, that they cannot contain themselves without variety of clyster-pipes, nay and are so ravenous, that they court men by proxies to meet them.  

Come none, they'll meet their slaves, those out o'th' way.  
A tankard-bearer for his pains they'll pay,  
He absent, no man found, ere they'll abide  
Delay, they'll let a horse, get up, and ride.   
But I, under the rose be it spoken, have let my wife to farm, and make the best of her: those Gallants that resort to her, pay liberally, and so that I gain coin, let them gain— what she gives them: but there's one Dammee a Ruffian that would engross her to himself, drives those away that come and bring in gain, nor will disburse himself one do it.  

A fellow takes no rest, if peace he keep,  
A quarrel still is prologue to his sleep,  
And I that have the Moon before me borne,  
With my large Antlers, am but made his scorn:  
He are how we quarrelled, if a quarrelled were,  
Where he lays on the blows, I only bear:  
He stands before me, and commands me stand,  
And I must be obedient to's command.  
Alas, what would you have a man to do  
I'th' hands of one that's mad, and stronger too!   

SCENE 2.  knocking within. 
Whence, who's there? Dammee without. Where's Mrs. Horns.  Horn. 
I shall be beat to dust if be set eye on me, I'll send one to him, (goes off.) Enter james. knocking without I am Who's there? Damn Open the door you rogue.  jam. 
Rogue, who are you? (… ens the door) OM. Dammee, you are welcome Sir.  Dam 
where's thy mistress?  jam. 
Not at home Sir.  Dam. 
Then all my fears are true, any she is false, false as a falling star, or glow worms fire: this devil beauty is compounded strangely, it is a subtle point, and hard to know, whether it has in it more active tempting, or more passive tempted, so soon it forces, and so soon it yields— she's light as air, I'll once give her the bells, and let her fly to the devil.  

I'll to the tavern, that my thought may move,  
And then I'll go, and find another love.   Exit. Enter Horn again. Horn 
james, Is he gone james? His vo●ce doth terrify me more than thunder doth the Indians: my game is gone, my wife is run away, I could for spite now be a convert, and turn ●onest in my age; I have a Countriehouse in Warwick thire, thither I'll go, and live upon the Onions that I sow, and Beans that I shall set. W … along james  jam. 
Yes Sir.  Horn. 

Come then, and since I've lost my city wife.  
I'll for the future lead a countrey-life.   Exeunt.   
FINIS.