+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + @ How dearly welcome you are! @ I know it, And my best Sister, you are as dear to my sight, And pray let this confirm it: how you have govern'd My poor state in my absence, how my servants, I dare, and must believe, else I should wrong ye, The best and worthiest. @ As my womans wit, Sir, Which is but weak and crazie. @ But good Alice, Tell me how fares the gentle Cellide, The life of my affection, since my travel, My long and lazie Travel? is her love still Upon the growing hand? does it not stop And wither at my years? has she not view'd And entertain'd some younger smooth behaviour, Some Youth but in his blossom, as her self is? There lies my fears. @ They need not, for believe me So well you have manag'd her, and won her mind, Even from her hours of childhood, to this ripeness, And in your absence, that by me enforc'd still, So well distill'd your gentleness into her, Observ'd her, fed her fancy, liv'd still in her, And though Love be a Boy, and ever youthful, And young and beauteous objects ever aim'd at, Yet here ye have gone beyond love, better'd nature, Made him appear in years, in grey years fiery, His Bow at full bent ever; fear not Brother, For though your body has been far off from her, Yet every hour your heart, which is your goodness, I have forc'd into her, won a place prepar'd too, And willingly to give it ever harbour; Believe she is so much yours, and won by miracle, (Which is by age) so deep a stamp set on her By your observances, she cannot alter. Were the Child living now ye lost at Sea Among the Genoua Gallies, what a happiness! What a main Blessing! @ O no more, good Sister, Touch no more that string, 'tis too harsh and jarring. With that Child all my hopes went, and you know The root of all those hopes, the Mother too, Within few days. @ 'Tis too true, and too fatal, But peace be with their souls. @ For her loss I hope the beauteous Cellide. @ You may, Sir, For all she is, is yours. @ For the poor Boys loss, I have brought a noble friend, I found in Travel, A worthier mind, and a more temperate spirit, If I have so much judgement to discern 'em, Man yet was never master of. @ What is he? @ A Gentleman, I do assure my self, And of a worthy breeding, though he hide it; I found him at Valentia, poor and needy, Only his mind the master of a Treasure. I sought his friendship, won him by much violence, His honesty and modesty still fearing To thrust a charge upon me; how I love him, He shall now know, where want and he hereafter Shall be no more Companions; use him nobly, It is my will, good Sister, all I have I make him free companion in, and partner, But only = @ I observe ye, hold your Right there, Love and high Rule allows no Rivals, Brother, He shall have fair regard, and all observance. @ You are welcome, noble Sir. @ What, Monsieur Hylas! I'm glad to see your merry Body well yet. @ 'Faith y'\are welcome home, what news beyond seas? @ None, but new men expected, such as you are, To breed new admirations; 'Tis my Sister, 'Pray ye know her, Sir, @ With all my heart; your leave Lady? @ You have it, Sir. @ A shrewd smart touch, which does prognosticate A Body keen and active, somewhat old, But that's all one; age brings experience And knowledge to dispatch: I must be better, And nearer in my service, with your leave, Sir, To this fair Lady. @ What, the old 'squire of Dames still! @ Still the admirer of their goodness; with all my heart now, I love a woman of her years, a pacer That lays the bridle in her Neck, will travel Forty, and somewhat fulsome is a fine dish. These young Colts are too skittish. @ My Cousin Mary In all her joy, Sir, to congratulate Your fair return. @ My loving and kind Cousin, A thousand welcomes. @ A thousand thanks to heaven, Sir, For your safe voyage, and return. @ I thank ye; But where's my Blessed Cellide? her slackness In visitation. @ Think not so, dear Uncle, I left her on her knees, thanking the gods With tears and prayers. @ Ye have given me too much comfort. @ She will not be long from ye. @ Your fair Cousin? @ It is do, and a bait you cannot balk Sir, If your old rule reign in you, ye may know her: + @ A happy stock ye have, right worthy Lady, The poorest of your servants vows his duty And obliged faith. @ O 'tis a kiss you would, Sir, Take it, and tye your tongue up. @ I am an Ass I do perceive now, a blind Ass, a Blockhead; For this is handsomness, this that that draws us Body and Bones: Oh what a mounted forehead, What eyes and lips, what every thing about her! How like a Swan she swims her pace, and bears Her silver Breasts! this is the Woman, she, And only she, that I will so much honour As to think worthy of my love, all older Idols I heartily abhor, and give to Gunpowder, And all Complexions besides hers, to Gypsies. @ O my dear life, my better heart, all dangers, Distresses in my travel, all misfortunes, Had they been endless like the hours upon me, In this kiss had been buried in oblivion; How happy have ye made me, truly happy? @ My joy has so much over mastered me, That in my tears for your return= @ O dearest; My noble friend too! what a Blessedness Have I about me now! how full my wishes Are come again, a thousand hearty welcomes I once more lay upon ye; all I have, The fair and liberal use of all my servants To be at your command, and all the uses Of all within my power. @ Ye are too munificent, Nor am I able to conceive those thanks, Sir. @ Ye wrong my tender love now, even my service, Nothing accepted, nothing stuck between us And our intire affections but this woman, This I beseech ye friend. @ It is a jewel, I do confess, would make a Thief, but never Of him that's so much yours, and bound your servant, That were a base ingratitude. @ Ye are noble, 'Pray be acquainted with her, keep your way, Sir, My Cousin and my Sister. @ Ye are most welcome. @ If any thing in our poor powers, fair Sir, To render ye content, and liberal welcome, May but appear, command it. @ Ye shall find us Happy in our performance. @ The poor Servant Of both your goodnesses presents his service. @ Come, no more Complement; Custom has made it Dull, old, and tedious; ye are once more welcome As your own thoughts can make ye, and the same ever. And so we'll in to ratifie it. @ Hark ye, Valentine: Is wild Oats yet come over? @ Yes, with me, Sir. @ How does he bear himself? @ A great deal better; Why do you blush? the Gentleman will do well. @ I should be glad on't, Sir @ How does his father? @ As mad a worm as e'er he was. @ I lookt for't: Shall we enjoy your Company? @ I'll wait on ye: Only a thought or two. @ We bar all prayers. @ This last Wench! #I, this last wench was a fair one, A dainty Wench, a right one; a Devil take it, What do I ail? to have fifteen now in liking, Enough a Man would think to stay my stomach? But what's fifteen, or fifteen score to my thoughts? And wherefore are mine Eyes made, and have lights, But to encrease my Objects? This last Wench, Sticks plaguey close to me, a hundred pound I were as close to her; If I lov'd now, As many foolish men do, I should run mad. + @ Sirrah, no more of your French shrugs I advise you. If you be lowzie shift your self. @ May it please your Worship. @ Only to see my Son, my Son, good Launcelot; Your master and my Son; Body O me Sir, No money, no more money, Monsieur Launcelot; Not a Denier, sweet Signior; bring the Person, The person of my Boy, my Boy Tom, Monsieur Thomas, Or get you gone again, du gata whee, Sir; Bassa micu, good Launcelot, valetote. My Boy or nothing. @ Then to answer punctually. @ I say to th' purpose. @ Then I say to th' purpose, Because your Worships vulgar Understanding May meet me at the nearest; your Son, my Master, Or Monsieur Thomas, (for so his Travel stiles him) Through many foreign plots that Vertue meets with, And dangers (I beseech ye give attention) Is at the last arriv'd To ask your (as the French man calls it sweetly) Benediction de jour en jour. @ Sirrah, do not conjure me with your French fruits. @ Che ditt'a vou, Monsieur. @ Che doga vou, Rascal; Leave me your rotten language, and tell me plainly, And quickly, Sirrah, lest I crack your French Crown, What your good Master means; I have maintain'd You and your Monsieur, as I take it, Launcelot, These two years at your ditty vous, your jours. Jour me no more, for not another penny Shall pass my purse. @ Your Worship is erroneous, For as I told you, your Son Tom, or Thomas, My master and your Son is now arriv'd To ask you, as our Language beats it nearest, Your quotidian Blessing, and here he is in Person. @ What, Tom! Boy, welcome with all my heart, Boy Welcome, 'faith thou hast gladded me at soul, Boy, Infinite glad I am, I have pray'd too, Thomas, For you wild Thomas, Tom, I thank thee heartily For coming home. @ Sir, I do find your Prayers Have much prevail'd above my sins. @ How's this? @ Else certain I had perish'd with my rudeness, Ere I had won my self to that discretion, I hope you shall hereafter find. @ Humh, humh, Discretion? is it come to that? the Boy's spoil'd. @ Sirrah, you Rogue, look for't, I will make thee Ten times more miserable than thou thought'st thy self Before thou travell'dst; thou hast told my Father, I know it, and I find it, all my Rogueries By meer way of prevention to undo me. @ Sir, as I speak eight languages, I only Told him you came to ask his benediction, De jour en jour. @ But that I must be civil, I would beat thee like a Dog. Sir, however The Time I have mispent may make you doubtful, Nay harden your belief 'gainst my Conversion. @ A pox o' travel, I say. @ Yet dear Father Your own experience in my after courses. @ Prithee no more, 'tis scurvy; there's thy Sister Undone without Redemption; he eats with picks, Utterly spoil'd, his spirit baffled in him: How have I sin'd that this affliction Should light so heavy on me? I have no more Sons; And this no more mine own, no spark of Nature Allows him mine now, he's grown tame; my grand curse Hang o'r his head that thus transform'd thee: travel? I'll send my horse to travel next; #we Monsieur. Now will my most canonical dear Neighbours Say I have found my Son, and rejoyce with me, Because he has mew'd his mad tricks off: I know not, But I am sure this Monsieur, this fine Gentlemen Will never be in my Books like mad Thomas, I must go seek an Heir, for my inheritance Must not turn Secretary; my name and quality Has kept my Land three hundred years in madness, And it slip mow, may it sink. @ Excellent Sister, I am glad to see thee well; but where's thy father? @ Gone discontent, it seems. @ He did ill in it As he does all; for I was uttering A handsome Speech or two, I have been studying E'r since I came from Paris: how glad to see thee! @ I am gladder to see you, with more love too I dare maintain it, than my Father's sorry To see (as he supposes) your Conversion; And I am sure he is vext, nay more, I know it, He has pray'd against it mainly; but it appears, Sir, You had rather blind him with that poor opinion Than in your self correct it: dearest Brother, Since there is in our uniform resemblance, No more to make us two but our bare Sexes; And since one happy Birth produc'd us hither, Let one more happy mind. @ It shall be, Sister, For I can do it when I list; and yet, Wench, Be mad too when I please; I have the trick on't: Beware a Traveller. @ Leave that trick too. @ Not for the world: but where's my Mistress, And prithee say how does she? I melt to see her, And presently: I must away. @ Then do so, For o' my faith, she will not see you Brother. @ Not see me? I'll = @ Now you play your true self; How would my father love this! I'll assure you She will not see you; she has heard (and loudly) The gambols that you plaid since your departure, In every Town ye came, your several mischiefs, Your rowses and your wenches; all your quarrels, And the no-causes of 'em; these I take it Although she love ye well, to modest ears, To one that waited for your reformation, To which end travel was propounded by her Uncle, Must needs, and reason for it, be examined, And by her modesty, and fear'd too light too, To fyle with her affections; ye have lost her For any thing I see, exil'd your self. @ No more of that, sweet Doll, I will be civil. @ But how long? @ Would'st thou have me lose my Birth-right? For yond old thing will desinherit me If I grow too demure; good sweet Doll, prithee, Prithee, dear Sister, let me see her. @ No. @ Nay, I beseech thee, by this light. @ #I, swagger. @ Kiss me, and be my friend, we two were twins, And shall we now grow strangers? @ 'Tis not my fault. @ Well, there be other women, and remember You, you were the cause of this; there be more lands too, And better People in 'em, fare ye well, And other loves; what shall become of me And of my vanities, because they grieve ye? @ Come hither, come, do you see that Cloud that flies there? So light are you, and blown with every fancy: Will ye but make me hope ye may be civil? I know your Nature's sweet enough, and tender, Not grated on, nor curb'd: do you love your Mistress? @ He lies that says I do not. @ Would ye see her? @ If you please, for it must be so. @ And appear to her A thing to be belov'd? @ Yes. @ Change then A little of your wildness into wisdom, And put on a more smoothness; I'll do the best I can to help ye, yet I do protest she swore, and swore it deeply, She would never see you more; where's your mans heart now? What, do you faint at this? @ She is a woman; But him she entertains next for a servant, I shall be bold to quarter. @ No thought of fighting; Go in, and there we'll talk more, be but rul'd, And what lies in my power, ye shall be sure of. + @ He cannot be so wild still. @ 'Tis most certain, I have now heard all, and all the truth. @ Grant all that; Is he the first that has been giv'n a lost man, And yet come fairly home? he is young and tender, And fit for that impression your affections Shall stamp upon him, age brings on discretion, A year hence, these mad toys that now possess him Will shew like Bugbears to him, shapes to fright him; Marriage dissolves all these like mists. @ They are grounded Hereditary in him, from his father, And to his grave they will haunt him. @ 'Tis your fear, Which is a wife part in you; yet your love However you may seem to lessen it With these dislikes, and choak it with these errors, Do what you can, will break out to excuse him, Ye have him in your heart, and planted, Cousin, From whence the power of reason, nor discretion Can ever root him. @ Planted in my hear, Aunt? Believe it no, I never was so liberal; What though he shew a so so comely fellow Which we call pretty? or say it may be handsom? What though his promises may stumble at The power of goodness in him, sometimes use too? @ How willingly thy heart betrays thee, Cousin? Cozen thy self no more; thou hast no more power To leave off loving him than he that's thirsty Has to abstain from drink standing before him; His mind is not so monstrous for his shape, If I have Eyes, I have not seen his better. A handsome brown Complexion. @ Reasonable, Inclining to a tawney. @ Had I said so, You would have wish'd my tongue out; then his making. @ Which may be mended; I have seen legs straighter, And cleaner made. @ A body too. @ Far neater, And better set together. @ God forgive thee, For against thy Conscience thou lyest stubbornly. @ I grant 'tis neat enough. @ 'Tis excellent, And where the outward parts are fair and lovely, (Which are but moulds o'th 'mind) what must the soul be? Put case youth has his swinge, and fiery Nature Flames to mad uses many times. @ All this You only use to make me say I love him; I do confess I do, but that my fondness Should fling it self upon his desperate follies. @ I do not counsel that, see him reclaim'd first, Which will not prove a miracle, yet Mary, I am afraid 'twill vex thee horribly To stay so long. @ No, no Aunt, no, believe me. @ What was your dream #to night? for I observ'd ye Hugging of me, with good dear sweet Tom. @ Fye, Aunt, Upon my Conscience. @ On my word 'tis true, Wench; And then ye kiss'd me, Mary, more than once too, And sigh'd, and O sweet Tom again; nay, do not blush, Ye have it at the heart, Wench. @ I'll be hang'd first, But you must have your way. @ And so will you too, Or break down hedges for it. Dorothea, The welcom'st woman living; how does thy Brother? I hear he's turn'd a wondrous civil Gentleman Since his short travel. @ 'Pray Heaven he make it good, Alice. @ How do ye friend? I have a quarrel to ye, Ye stole away and left my company. @ O pardon me, dear friend, it was to welcome A brother that I have some Cause to love well. @ Prithee how is he? thou speak'st truth. @ Not perfect, I hope he will be. @ Never: #h'as forgot me, I hear Wench, and his hot love too. @ Thou would'st howl then. @ And I am glad it should be so; his travels Have yielded him variety of Mistresses, Fairer in his eye far. @ O cogging Rascal! @ I was a fool, but better thoughts I thank heaven. @ 'Pray do not think so, for he loves you dearly, Upon my troth most firmly, would fain see you. @ See me friend! do you think it fit? @ It may be, Without the loss of credit too; he's not Such a prodigious thing, so monstrous, To fling from all society. @ He's so much contrary To my desires, such an antipathy That I must sooner see my grave. @ Dear friend, He was not so before he went. @ I grant it, For then I daily hop'd his fair Conversion. @ Come, do not mask your self, but see him freely, Ye have a mind. @ That mind I'll master then. @ And is your hate so mortal? @ Not to his person, But to his qualities, his mad-cap follies, Which still like Hydras heads grow thicker on him. I have a credit, friend, and Maids of my sort, Love where their modesties may live untainted. @ I give up that hope then; 'pray for your friends sake, If I have any interest within ye, Do but this courtesie, accept this Letter. @ From him? @ The same; 'tis but a minutes reading, And as we look on shapes of painted Devils, Which for the present may disturb our fancy, But with the next new object lose'em so If this be foul, ye may forget it, 'pray. @ Have ye seen it, friend? @ I will not lie; I have not, But I presume, so much he honours you, The worst part of himself was cast away When to his best part he writ this. @ For your sake, Not that I any way shall like his scribling. @ A shrewd dissembling Quean. @ I thank ye, dear friend, I know she loves him. @ Yes, and will not lose him, Unless he leap into the Moon, believe that, And then she'l scramble too; young wenches loves Are like the course of quartans, they may shift And seem to cease sometimes, and yet we see The least distemper pulls 'em back again, And seats 'em in their old course; fear her not, Unless he be a Devil. @ Now Heaven bless me. @ What has he writ? @ Out, out upon him. @ Ha, what has the mad man done? @ Worse, worse, and worse still. @ Some Northern Toy, a little broad. @ Still fouler? Hey, hey Boys, goodness keep me; Oh. @ What ail ye? @ Here, take your Spell again, it burns my fingers. Was ever Lover writ so sweet a Letter? So elegant a style? pray look upon't; The rarest inventory of rank Oaths That ever Cur-purse cast. @ What a mad Boy is this? @ Only i'th' bottom A little Julip gently sprinkled over To cool his mouth, lest it break out in blisters, Indeed law. Yours for ever. @ I am sorry. @ You shall be welcome to me, come when you please, And ever may command me vertuously, But for your Brother, you must pardon me, Till I am of his nature, no access friend, No word of visitation, as ye love me, And so for now I'le leave ye. @ What a letter Has this thing written, how it roars like thunder? With what a state he enters into stile? Dear Mistress. @ Out upon him bedlam. @ Well, there be waies to reach her yet: such likeness As you two carry me thinks. @ I am mad too, And yet can apprehend ye: fare ye well, The fool shall now fish for himself. @ Be sure then His tewgh be tith and strong: and next no swearing, He'l catch no fish else, Farewel Dol. @ Farewel Alice. + @ Indeed he's much chang'd, extreamly alter'd, His colour faded strangely too. @ The air, The sharp and nipping air of our new climate I hope is all, which will as well restore To health again th' affected body by it, And make it stronger far, as leave it dangerous; How do's my sweet, our blessed hour comes on now Apace my Cellide, (it knocks at door) In which our loves, and long desires like rivers Rising asunder far, shall fall together, Within these #too daies dear. @ When heaven, and you Sir Shall think it fit: for by your wills I am govern'd. @ 'Twere good some preparation. @ All that may be: It shall be no blind wedding: and all the joy Of all our friends I hope: he looks worse hourly, How does my friend, my self? he sweats too coldly, His pulse, like the slow dropping of a spowt, Scarce give his function: how is't man, alas Sir, You look extreme ill: is it any old grief, The weight of which? @ None, gentle Sir, that I feel, Your love is too too tender, Nay believe Sir. @ You cannot be the master of your health, Either some feaver lyes in wait to catch ye, Whose harbinger's already in your face We see preparing: or some discontent, Which if it lye in this house, I dare say Both for this noble Gentleman, and all That live within it, shall as readily Be purged away, and with as much care soften'd, And where the cause is. @ 'Tis a joy to be ill, Where such a vertuous fair Physitian Is ready to relieve: your noble cares I must, and ever shall be thankful for, And would my service (I dare not look upon her) But be not fearful, I feel nothing dangerous, A grudging caus'd by th' alteration Of air, may hang upon me: my heart's whole, (I would it were.) @ I knew the cause to be so. @ No, you shall never know it. @ Some warm broths To purge the bloud, and keep your bed #a day Sir, And sweat it out. @ I have such cordials, That if you will but promise me to take 'em, Indeed you shall be well, and very quickly, I'le be your Doctor, you shall see how finely I'le fetch ye up again. @ He sweats extreamly: Hot, very hot: his pulse beats like a drum now, Feel Sister, feel, feel sweet. @ How that touch stung me? @ My gown there. @ And those julips in the window. @ Some see his bed made. @ This is most unhappy, Take courage man, 'tis nothing but an ague. @ And this shall be the last fit. @ Not by thousands: Now what 'tis to be truly miserable, I feel at full experience. @ He grows fainter. @ Come, lead him in, he shall to bed; a vomit, I'le have a vomit for him. @ A purge first, And if he breath'd a vein. @ No, no, no bleeding, A Clyster will cool all. @ Be of good cheer Sir. @ He's loth to speak. @ How hard he holds my hand aunt? @ I do not like that sign. @ Away to's chamber, Softly, he's full of pain, be dilligent With all the care ye have: would I had scus'd him. + . @ Why do you rail at me? do I dwell in her To force her to do this or that? your letter, A wilde-fire on your letter; your sweet Letter; You are so learned in your writs: ye stand now. As if ye had worried sheep: you must turn tippet, And suddenly, and truely, and discreetly Put on the shape of order and humanity, Or you must marry Malkyn the May Lady: You must, dear Brother: do you make me carrier Of you confound-mee's, and your culverings? Am I a seemly agent for your oaths? Who would have writ such a debosh'd? @ Your patience, May not a man profess his love? @ In blasphemies? Rack a maids tender ears, with dam's and Devils? @ Out, out upon thee, How would you have me write? Begin with my love premised? surely, And by my truly Mistress. @ Take your own course, For I see all perswasion's lost upon ye: Humanitie, all drown'd: from this hour fairly I'le wash my hands of all ye do: farewel sir. @ Thou art not mad? @ No, if I were, dear Brother I would keep you company: get a new Mistress Some suburb Saint, that six pence, and some others Will draw to parley: carowse her health in Cans And candles ends, and quarrel for her beauty, Such a sweet heart must serve your turn: your old love Releases ye of all your tyes; disclaims ye And utterly abjures your memory Till time has better manag'd ye, will ye command me = @ What, bob'd of all sides? @ Any worthy service Unto my Father Sir, that I may tell him Even to his peace of heart, and much rejoycing Ye are his true Son Tom still? will it please ye To beat some half a dozen of his servants presently, That I may testifie you have brought the same faith Unblemish'd home, ye carried out? or if it like you There be two chambermaids within, young wenches, Handsom and apt for exercise: you have been good, Sir, And charitable though I say it Signiour To such poor orphans: and now, by th'\way I think on't Your young rear Admiral, I mean your last bastard Don John, ye had by Lady Blanch the Dairy Maid, Is by an Academy of learned Gypsies, Foreseeing some strange wonder in the infant Stoln from the Nurse, and wanders with those Prophets, There is plate in the parlour, and good store Sir, When your wants shall supply it. So most humbly (First rendring my due service) I take leave Sir. @ Why Doll, why Doll I say: my letter fub'd too, And no access without I mend my manners? All my designes in Limbo? I will have her, Yes, I will have her, though the Devil roar, I am resolv'd that, if she live above ground, I'le not be bob'd i'th' nose with every bobtail: I will be civil too, now I think better, Exceeding civil, wondrous finely carried: And yet be mad upon occasion, And stark mad too, and save my land: my Father, I'le have my will of him, how e're my wench goes. + @ Sirrah, I say still you have spoil'd your Master: leave + your stitches: I say thou hast spoil'd thy Master. @ I say how Sir? @ Marry thou hast taught him like an arrant rascal, First to read perfectly: which on my blessing I warn'd him from: for I knew if he read once, He was a lost man. Secondly, Sir Launcelot, Sir lowsie Launcelot, ye have suffer'd him Against my power first, then against my precept, To keep that simpring sort of people company, That sober men call civil: mark ye that Sir? @ And't please your worship. @ It does not please my worship, Nor shall not please my worship: thirdly and lastly, Which if the law were here, I would hang thee for, (However I will lame thee) like a villain, Thou hast wrought him Clean to forget what 'tis to do a mischief, A handsom mischief, such as thou knew'st I lov'd well. My servants all are sound now, my drink sowr'd, Not a horse pawn'd, nor plaid away: no warrants Come for the breach of peace. Men travel with their mony, and nothing meets 'em: I was accurs'd to send thee, thou wert ever Leaning to laziness, and loss of spirit, Thou slep'st still like a cork upon the water. @ Your worship knows, I ever was accounted The most debosh'd, and please you to remember, Every day drunk too, for your worships credit, I broke the Butlers head too. @ No, base Palliard, I do remember yet that anslaight, thou wast beaten, And fledst before the Butler; a black jack Playing upon thee furiously, I saw it: I saw thee scatter'd rogue, behold thy Master. @ What sweet content dwells here! @ Put up your Book Sir, We are all undone else. @ Tom, when is the horse-race? @ I know not Sir. @ You will be there? @ Not I Sir. I have forgot those journeys. @ Spoil'd for ever. The Cocking holds at Derby, and there will be Jack, wild-oats, and Will Purser. @ I am sorry, Sir, They should employ their time so slenderly, Their understanding will bear better courses. @ Yes, I will marry again: but Monsieur Thomas, What say ye to the Gentleman that challeng'd ye Before he went, and the fellow ye fell out with? @ O good Sir, Remember not those follies; where I have wrong'd, Sir, (So much I have now learn'd to discern my self) My means, and my repentance shall make even, Nor do I think it any imputation To let the Law perswade me. @ Any Woman: I care not of what colour, or complexion, Any that can bear Children: rest ye merry. @ Ye have utterly undone; clean discharg'd me, I am for the ragged Regiment. @ Eight languages, And wither at an old mans words? @ O pardon me. I know him but too well: eightscore I take it Will not keep me from beating, if not killing: I'le give him leave to brake a leg, and thank him: You might have sav'd all this, and sworn a little: What had an oath or two been? or a head broke, Though 'thad been mine, to have satisfied the old man? @ I'le break it yet. @ Now 'tis too late, I take it: Will ye be drunk #to night, (a less intreaty Has serv'd your turn) and save all yet? not mad drunk, For then ye are the Devil, yet the drunker, The better for your Father still: your state is desperate, And with a desperate cure ye must recover it: Do something, do Sir: do some drunken thing, Some mad thing, or some anything to help us. @ Go for a Fidler then: the poor old Fidler That sayes his Songs: but first where lyes my Mistriss, Did ye enquire out that? @ I'th' Lodge, alone Sir, None but her own Attendants. @ 'Tis the happier: Away then, find the Fidler, and do not miss me By nine #a Clock. @ Via. @ My Father's mad now, And ten to one will disinherit me: I'le put him to his plunge, and yet be merry. What Ribabald? @ Don Thomasio. De bene venew. @ I do embrace your body: How do'st thou Sam? @ The same Sam still: your friend Sir. @ And how is't bouncing boyes? @ Thou art not alter'd, They said thou wert all Monsieur. @ O believe it, I am much alter'd, much another way: The civil'st Gentleman in all your Country: Do not ye see me alter'd? yea, and nay Gentlemen, A much converted man: where's the best wine boys? @ A sound Convertitie. @ What, hast thou made up twenty yet? @ By'r Lady, I have giv'n a shrewd push at it, for as I take it, The last I fell in love with, scor'd sixteen. @ Look to your skin, Rambaldo the sleeping Gyant Will rowze and rent thee piece-meal. @ He ne'r perceives 'em Longer than looking on. @ Thou never meanest then To marry any that thou lov'st? @ No surely, Nor any wise man I think; marriage? Would you have me now begin to be prentice, And learn to cobble other mens old Boots? @ Why, you may take a Maid. @ Where? can you tell me? Or if 'twere possible I might get a Maid, To what use should I put her? look upon her, Dandle her upon my knee, and give her sugar-sops? All the new Gowns i'th' Parish will not please her, If she be high bred, for there's the sport she aims at, Nor all the feathers in the Fryars. @ Then take a Widow, A good stanch wench, that's tith. @ And begin a new order, Live in a dead mans monument, not I, Sir, I'll keep mine own road, a true mendicant; What pleasure this day yields me, I never covet To lay up for the morrow; and methinks ever Another mans Cook dresses my diet neatest. @ Thou wast wont to love old woman, fat and flat nosed. And thou would'st say they kiss'd like Flounders, flat All the face over. @ I have had such damsels I must confess. @ Thou hast been a precious Rogue. @ Only his eyes; and o' my Conscience They lye with half the Kingdom. @ What's the matter? Whither go all these men-menders, these Physicians? Whose Dog lies sick o'th' mulligrubs? @ O the Gentleman, The young smug Seigniour, Master Valentine, Brought out of travel with him, as I hear, Is faln sick o'th' sudden, desperate sick, And likely they go thither. @ Who? young Frank? The only temper'd spirit, Scholar, Souldier, Courtier; and all in one piece? 'tis not possible. @ There's one can better satisfie you. @ Mistress Alice, I joy to see you Lady. @ Good Monsieur Thomas, You're welcome from your travel; I am hasty, A Gentleman lyes sick, Sir. @ And how dost thou? I must know, and I will know. @ Excellent well, As well as may be, thank ye. @ I am glad on't, And prithee hark. @ I cannot stay. @ #A while, Alice. @ Never look so narrowly, the mark's in her mouth still. @ I am looking at her legs, prithee be quiet. @ I cannot stay. @ O sweet Alice. @ A clean instep, And that I love a life, I did not mark This woman half so well before, how quick And nimble like a shadow, there her leg shew'd; By th' mass a neat one, the colour of her Stocking, A much inviting colour. @ My good Monsieur, I have no time to talk now. @ Pretty Breeches, Finely becoming too. @ By Heaven. @ She will not, I can assure you that, and so. @ But this word. @ I cannot, nor I will not, good Lord. @ Well, you shall hear more from me. @ We'll go visit, 'Tis Charity; besides, I know she is there; And under visitation I shall see her; Will ye along? @ By any means. @ Be sure then, I be a civil man; I have sport in hand, Boys, Shall make mirth for a Marriage day. @ Away then. + @ A Pleurisie, I see it. @ I rather hold it For tremor Cordis. @ Do you mark the Faeces? 'Tis most pestilent contagious Feaver, A surfeit, a plaguey surfeit; he must bleed. @ By no means. @ I say bleed. @ I say 'tis dangerous; The person being spent so much before-hand, And Nature drawn so low, Clysters, cool Clysters. @ Now with your favours I should think a Vomit: For take away the Cause, the Effect must follow, The Stomach's foul and fur'd, the pot's unflam'd yet. @ No, no, we'll rectifie that part by mild means, Nature so sunk must find no violence. @ Will't please ye draw near? the weak Gentleman. Grows worse and worse still. @ Come, we will attend him. @ He shall do well, my friend. @ My Masters love, Sir. @ Excellent well I warrant thee, right and straight, friend. @ There's no doubt in him, none at all, ne'r fear him. + @ That he is desperate sick I do believe well, And that without a speedy cure it kills him, But that it lyes within the help of Physick Now to restore his health, or art to cure him; Believe it you are cozen'd, clean beside it. I would tell ye the true cause too, but 'twould vex ye, Nay, run ye mad. @ May all I have restore him? So dearly and so tenderly I love him. I do not know the cause why, yea my life too. @ Now I perceive ye so well set, I'll tell you, Hei mihi quod nullis Amor est medicabilis herbis. @ 'Twas that I only fear'd; good friend go from me, I find my heart too full for further conference; You are assur'd of this? @ 'Twill prove too certain. But bear it nobly, Sir, Youth hath his errours. @ I shall do, and I thank ye; 'pray ye no words on't. @ I do not use to talk, Sir. @ Ye are welcome; Is there no Constancy in earthly things, No happiness in us, but what must alter? No life without the heavy load of Fortune? What miseries we are, and to our selves, Even then when full content seems to sit by us, What daily sores and sorrows? @ O dear Brother, The Gentleman if ever you will see him Alive as I think. @ O he faints, for Heavens sake, For Heavens sake, Sir. @ Go comfort him, dear Sister. And one word, sweet, with you: then we'll go to him. What think you of this Gentleman? @ My pity thinks, Sir, 'Tis great misfortune that he should thus perish. @ It is indeed, but Cellide, he must dye. @ That were a cruelty, when care may cure him, Why do you weep so, Sir? he may recover. @ He may, but with much danger; my sweet Cellide, You have a powerful tongue. @ To do you service. @ I will betray his grief; he loves a Gentlewoman, A friend of yours, whose heart another holds, He knows it too; yet such a sway blind fancy, And his not daring to deliver it, Have won upon him, that they must undo him: Never so hopeful and so sweet a Spirit, Misfortune fell so foul on. @ Sure she's hard hearted, That can look on, and not relent, and deeply At such a misery; she is not married? @ Not yet. @ Nor near it? @ When she please. @ And pray Sir, Does he deserve her truly, that she loves so? @ His love may merit much, his Person little, For there the match lyes mangled. @ Is he your friend? @ He should be, for he is near me. @ Will not he dye then, When th'\other shall recover? @ Ye have pos'd me. @ Methinks he should go near it, if he love her; If she love him. @ She does, and would do equal. @ 'Tis a hard task you put me; yet for your sake I will speak to her, all the art I have; My best endeavours; all his Youth and Person, His mind more full of beauty; all his hopes The memory of such a sad example, Ill spoken of, and never old; the curses Of loving maids, and what may be alledg'd I'll lay before her: and what her Name? I am ready. @ But will you deal effectually? @ Most truly; Nay, were it my self, at your entreaty. @ And could ye be so pitiful? @ So dutiful; Because you urge it, Sir. @ It may be then It is your self. @ It is indeed, I know it, And now know how ye love me. @ O my dearest, Let but your goodness judge; your own part's pity; Set but your eyes on his afflictions; He is mine, and so becomes your charge: but think What ruine Nature suffers in this young man, What loss humanity, and noble manhood; Take to your better judgment my declining, My Age hung full of impotence, and ills, My Body budding now no more: seer Winter Hath seal'd that sap up, at the best and happiest I can but be your infant, you my Nurse, And how unequal dearest; where his years, His sweetness, and his ever spring of goodness, My fortunes growing in him, and my self too, Which makes him all your old love; misconceive not, I say not this as weary of my bondage, Or ready to infringe my faith; bear witness, Those eyes that I adore still, those lamps that light me To all the joy I have. @ You have said enough, Sir, And more than e'r I thought that tongue could utter, But you are a man, a false man too. @ Dear Cellide. @ And now, to shew you that I am a woman Rob'd of her rest, and fool'd out of her fondness, The Gentleman shall live, and if he love me, Ye shall be both my triumphs; I will to him, And as you carelesly fling off your fortune, And now grow weary of my easie winning, So will I lose the name of Valentine, From henceforth all his flatteries, and believe it, Since ye have so slightly parted with affection, And that affection you have pawn'd your faith for; From this hour no repentance, vows, nor prayers Shall pluck me back again; what I shall do, Yet I will undertake his cure, expect it, Shall minister no comfort, no content To either of ye, but hourly more vexations. @ Why, let him dye then. @ No, so much I have loved To be commanded by you, that even now, Even in my hate, I will obey your wishes. @ What shall I do? @ Dye like a fool unsorrow'd, A bankrupt fool, that flings away his Treasure; I must begin my cure. @ And I my Crosses. + @ Clap on the Cataplasm. @ Good Gentlemen, Good learned Gentlemen. @ And see these broths there, Ready within this hour, pray keep your arms in, The air is raw, and ministers much evil. @ 'Pray leave me; I beseech ye leave me, Gentlemen, I have no other sickness but your presence, Convey your Cataplasms to those that need 'em, Your Vomits, and your Clysters. @ Pray be rul'd, Sir. @ Bring in the Lettice Cap; you must be shaved, Sir, And then how suddenly we'll make you sleep! @ Till dooms-day: what unnecessary nothings Are these about a wounded mind? @ How do ye? @ What questions they propound too! how do you, Sir? I am glad to see you well. @ A great distemper, it grows hotter still. @ Open your mouth, I pray, Sir. @ And can you tell me How old I am then? there's my hand, pray shew me How many broken shins within this two year. Who would be thus in fetters, good master Doctor, And you dear Doctor, and the third sweet Doctor, And precious master Apothecary, I do pray ye To give me leave to live a little longer, Ye stand before me like my Blacks. @ 'Tis dangerous, For now his fancy turns too. @ By your leave Gentlemen: And pray ye your leave #a while too, I have something Of secret to impart unto the Patient. @ With all our hearts. @ I mary such a Physick May chance to find the humour: be not long Lady, For we must minister within this half hour. @ You shall not stay for me. @ Would you were all rotten That ye might only intend one anothers itches: Or would the Gentlemen with one consent Would drink small Beer but seven years, and abolish That wild fire of the blood, unsatiate wenching, That your two Indies, springs and falls might fail ye, What torments these intruders into bodies. @ How do you worthy Sir? @ Bless me, what beams Flew from these Angel eyes! O what a misery What a most studied torment 'tis to me now To be an honest man! dare ye sit by me? @ Yes, and do more than that too: comfort ye, I see ye have need. @ You are a fair Physician: You bring no bitterness gilt o're, to gull us, No danger in your looks, yet there my death lyes. @ I would be sorry, Sir, my charity And my good wishes for your health should merit So stubborn a construction: will it please ye To taste a little of this Cordial For this I think must cure ye. @ Of which Lady? Sure she has found my grief: why do you blush so? @ Do you not understand? of this, this Cordial. @ O my afflicted heart: she is gone for ever. @ What heaven have ye brought me lady? @ Do not wonder: For 'tis no impudence, nor want of honour Makes me do this: but love to save your life, Sir, Your life too excellent to lose in wishes, Love, vertuous love. @ A vertuous blessing crown ye, O goodly sweet, can there be so much charity So noble a compassion in that heart That's fill'd up with anothers fair affections? Can mercy drop from those eyes? Can miracles be wrought upon a dead man, When all the power ye have, and perfect object Lyes in anothers light, and his deserves it? @ Do not despair: nor do not think too boldly, I dare abuse my promise, 'twas your friends An so fast tyed, I thought no time could ruin: But so much has your danger, and that spell The powerful name of friend, prevail'd above him To whom I ever owe obedience, That here I am, by his command to cure ye, Nay more for ever, by his full resignment, And willingly I ratifie it. @ Hold for Heaven sake, Must my friends misery make me a triumph? Bear I that noble name, to be a Traitor? O vertuous goodness, keep thy self untainted: You have no power to yield, nor he to render, Nor I to take: I am resolv'd to die first. @ Ha! saist thou so? nay then thou shalt not perish. @ And though I love ye above the light shines on me, Beyond the wealth of Kingsoms, free content, Sooner would snatch at such a blessing offer'd Than at my pardon'd life by the law forfeited, Yet, yet O noble Beauty, yet O Paradise For you are all the wonder reveal'd of it, Yet is a gratitude to be preserv'd, A worthy gratitude to one most worthy The name, and nobleness of friends. @ Pray tell me If I had never known that Gentleman, Would not you willingly embrace my offer? @ Do you make a doubt? @ And can ye be unwilling He being old and impotent? his aim too Levell'd at you, for your good? not constrain'd, But out of cure, and counsel? Alas consider, Play but the Woman with me, and consider As he himself does, and I now dare see it, Truly consider, Sir, what misery. @ For vertues sake take heed, @ What loss of youth, What everlasting banishment from that Our years do only covet to arrive at, Equal affections aim'd and shot + together: What living name can dead age leave behind him, What art of memory but fruitless doating? @ This cannot be. @ To you unless ye apply it With more and firmer faith, and so digest it, I speak but of things possible, not done Nor like to be, a Posset cures your sickness, And yet I know ye grieve this; and howsoever The worthiness of friend may make ye stagger, Which is a fair thing in ye, yet my Patient, My gentle Patient, I would fain say more If you would understand. @ O cruel Woman. @ Yet sure your sickness is not so forgetful, Nor you so willing to be lost. @ Pray stay there: Me thinks you are not fair now; me thinks more, That modest vertue, men delivered of you, Shews but like shadow to me, thin, and fading. @ Excellent friend. @ Ye have no share in goodness: Ye are belyed; you are not Cellide, The modest, immaculate: who are ye? For I will know: what Devil, to do mischief Unto my vertuous friend, hath shifted shapes With that unblemished beauty? @ Do not rave, Sir, Nor let the violence of thoughts distract ye, You shall enjoy me: I am yours: I pity By those fair eyes I do. @ O double hearted! O Woman, perfect Woman! what distraction Was meant to mankind when thou was't made a Devil? What an inviting Hell invented? tell me, And if you yet remember what is goodness, Tell me by that, and truth, can one so cherish'd So sainted in the soul of him, whose service Is almost turn'd to superstition, Whose every day endeavours and desires Offer themselves like Incense on your Altar, Whose heart holds no intelligence, but holy And most Religious with his love; whose life (And let it ever be remembered Lady) is drawn out only for your ends. @ O miracle!! @ Whose all, and every part of man: pray make me Like ready Pages wait upon your pleasures; Whose breath is but your bubble. Can ye, dare ye, Must ye cast off this man, though he were willing, Though in a nobleness, so cross my danger His friendship durst confirm it, without baseness, Without the stain of honour? shall not people Say liberally hereafter, there's the Lady That lost her Father, friend, herself, her faith too, To fawn upon a stranger, for ought you know As faithless as yourself, in love as fruitless. @ Take her with all my heart, thou art so honest That 'tis most necessary I be undone. + [@] With all my soul possess her. @ Till this minute, I scorn'd, and hated ye, and came to cozen ye: Utter'd those things might draw a wonder on me, To make ye mad. @ Good Heaven, what is this Woman? @ Nor did your danger, but in charity, Move me a whit: nor you appear unto me More than a common object; yet now truly, Truly, and nobly I do love ye dearly, And from this hour ye are the man I honour, You are the man, the excellence, the honesty, The only friend, and I am glad your sickness Fell so most happily at this time on ye, To make this truth the worlds. @ Whither do you drive me? @ Back to your honesty, make that good ever, 'Tis like a strong built Castle, seated high, That draws on all ambitions, still repair it, Still fortifie it: there are thousand foes Besides the Tyrant Beauty, will assail it: Look to your Centinels that watch it hourly, Your eyes, let them not wander. @ Is this serious? Or does she play still with me? @ Keep your ears, The two main Ports that may betray ye, strongly From light belief first, then from flattery, Especially where Woman beats the parley: The body of your strength, your noble heart From ever yielding to dishonest ends, Rig'd round about with vertue, that no breaches, No subtil minds may meet ye. @ How like the Sun Labouring in his Eclipse, dark, and prodigious, She shew'd still now? when having won her way, How full of wonder he breaks out again, And sheds his vertuous beams: excellent Angel, For no less can that heavenly mind proclaim thee, Honour of all thy sex, let it be lawful, And like a Pilgrim thus I kneel to beg it, Not with prophane lips now, nor burnt affections, But, reconcil'd to faith, with holy wishes, To kiss that virgin hand. @ Take your desire, Sir, And in a nobler way, for I dare trust ye, No other fruit my love must ever yield ye, I fear no more: yet your most constant memory (So much I am wedded to that worthiness) Shall ever be my Friend, Companion, Husband. Farewel, and fairly govern your affections, Stand, and deceive me not: O noble young man, I love thee with my soul, but dare not say it: Once more farewel, and prosper. @ Goodness guide thee: My wonder like to fearful shapes in dreams, Has wakened me out of my fit of folly, But not to shake it off: a spell dwells in me, A hidden charm shot from this beauteous Woman, That fate can ne'r avoid, nor Physick find, And by her counsel strengthen'd: only this Is all the help I have, I love fair vertue, Well, something I must do, to be a friend, Yet I am poor, and tardy: something for her too Though I can never reach her excellence, Yet but to give an offer at a greatness. @ Be not uncivil Tom, and take your pleasure. @ Do you think I am mad? you'l give me leave To try her fairly? @ Do your best. @ Why there Boy, But where's the sick man? @ Where are the Gentlewomen That should attend him? there's the Patient. Me thinks these Women = @ Thou think'st nothing else. @ Go to him friend, and comfort him: I'le lead ye: O my best joy, my worthiest friend, pray pardon me, I am so over-joy'd I want expression: I may live to be thankful:bid your friends welcome. @ How do'st thou Frank? how do'st thou Boy? bear up man: What, shrink i'th' sinews for a little sickness? Deavolo morte. @ I am o'th' mending hand. @ How like a Flute thou speak'st: o'th' mending hand man? Gogs bores, I am well, speak like a man of worship. @ Thou art a mad companion: never staid Tom. @ Let Rogues be staid that have no habitation, A Gentleman may wander: sit thee down Frank, And see what I have brought thee: come discover, Open the Scene, and let the work appear. A friend at need you Rogue is worth a million. @ What hast thou there, a julip? @ He must not touch it, 'Tis present death. @ Ye are Ass, a twirepipe, A Jeffery John bo peepe, thou mimister, Thou mend a left-handed pack-saddle, out puppey, My friend Frank, but a very foolish fellow: Do'st thou see that Bottle? view it well. @ I do Tom. @ There be as many lives in't, as a Cat carries, 'Tis everlasting liquor. @ What? @ Old Sack, Boy, Old reverend Sack, which for ought that I can read yet, Was that Philosophers stone the wise King Ptolomeus Did all his wonders by. @ I see no harm Tom, Drink with a moderation. @ Drink with suger, Which I have ready here, and here a glass boy, Take me without my tools. @ Pray Sir be temperate, You know your own state best. @ Sir, I much thank ye, And shall be careful: yet a glass or two So fit I find my body, and that so needful. @ Fill it, and leave your fooling: thou say'st true Frank. @ Where are these Women I say? @ 'Tis most necessary, Hang up your Julips and your Portugal Possets, Your barley Broths, and sorrel Sops, they are mangy, And breed the Scratches only: give me Sack: I wonder where this wench is though: have at thee. @ So long, and yet no bolting? @ Do , I'le pledge thee. @ Take it off thrice, and then cry heigh like a Huntsman With a clear heart, and no more fits I warrant thee. The only Cordial, Frank. @ Are the things ready? And is the Barber come? @ An hour ago, Sir. @ Bring out the Oyls then. @ Now or never Gentlemen, Do me a kindness and deliver me. @ From whom boy? @ From these things, that talk within there, Physicians, Tom, Physicians, scowring-sticks, They mean to read upon me, @ Let 'em enter. @ And be thou confident, we will deliver thee: For look ye Doctor, say the Devil were sick now, His horns saw'd off, and his head bound with a Biggin, Sick of a Calenture, taken by a Surfeit Of stinking souls at his Nephews, and St Dunstans, What would you minister upon the sudden? Your judgment short and sound. @ A fools head. @ No Sir, It must be a Physicians for three causes, The first because it is a bald-head likely, Which will down easily without Applepap. @ A main cause. @ So it is, and well consider'd. The second, for 'tis fill'd with broken Greek, Sir, Which will so tumble in his stomach, Doctor, And work upon the crudities, conceive me, The fears, and the fiddle-strings within it, That those damn'd souls must disembogue again. @ Or meeting with the stygian humour. @ Right, Sir. @ Forc'd with a Cataplasm of Crackers. @ Ever. @ Scowre all before him, like a Scavenger. @ Satisfecisti domine, my last cause, My last is, and not least, most learned Doctors, Because in most Physicians heads (I mean those That are most excellent, and old withal, And angry, though a Patient say his prayers, And Paracelsians that do trade with poisons, We have it by tradition of great writers) There is a kind of Toad-stone bred, whose vertue The Doctor being dri'd. @ We are abus'd sirs. @ I take it so, or shall be, for say the Belly-ake Caus'd by an inundation of Pease-porridge, Are we therefore to open the port Vein, Or the port Esquiline? @ A learned question: Or grant the Diaphragma by a Rupture, The sign being then in the head of Capricorn. @ Meet with the passion Huperchondriaea, And so cause a Carnosity in the Kidneyes. Must not the brains, being butter'd with this humour = Answer me that. @ Most excellently argued. @ The next fit your will have, my most fine Scholar, Bedlam shall find a Salve for: fare ye well Sir, We came to do you good, but these young Doctors It seems have bor'd our Noses. @ Drink hard Gentlemen, And get unwholesome drabs: 'tis ten to one then We shall hear further from ye, your note alter'd. @ And wilt thou be gone, saies one? @ And wilt thou be gone, saies t'\other? @ Then take the odd crown To mend thy old Gown. @ And we'l be gone all together. @ My learned Tom. @ Sir, the young Gentlewomen Sent me to see what company ye had with ye, They much desire to visit ye. @ Pray ye thank 'em, And tell 'em my most sickness is their absence: Ye see my company. @ Come hither Crab, What Gentlewomen are these? my Mistris? @ Yes Sir, @ And who else? @ Mistress Alice. @ Oh! @ Hark ye sirrah, No word of my being here, unless she know it. @ I do not think she does. @ Take that, and mum then. @ You have ty'd my tongue up. @ Sit you down good Francis, And not a word of me till ye hear from me, And as you find my humour, follow it: You two come hither, and stand close, unseen Boys, And do as I shall tutor ye. @ What, new work? @ Prethee no more but help me now. @ I would fain talk With the Gentlewomen. @ Talk with the Gentlewomen? Of what forsooth? whose Maiden-head the last Mask Suffer'd impression? or whose Clyster wrought best? Take me as I shall tell thee. @ To what end? What other end came we along? @ Be rul'd though. @ Your weasel face must needs be ferretting About the Farthing-ale; Do as I bid ye, Or by this light = @ Come then. @ Stand close and mark me. @ All this forc'd foolery will never do it. @ I hope we bring ye health, Sir: how is't with ye? @ You look far better trust me, the fresh colour Creeps now again into his cheeks. @ Your enemy I see has done his worst. Come, we must have ye Lusty again, and frolick man; leave thinking. @ Indeed it does ye harm, Sir. @ My best visitants, I shall be govern'd by ye. @ You shall be well then, And suddenly, and soundly well. @ This Air, Sir, Having now season'd ye, will keep ye ever. @ No, no, I have no hope, nor is it fit friends, My life has been so lewd, my loose condition, Which I repent too late, so lamentable, That any thing but curses light upon me, Exorbitant in all my wayes. @ Who's that, sir, Another sick man? @ Sure I know that voice well, @ In all my courses, careless disobedience. @ What a strange fellow's this? @ No counsel friends, No look before I leapt. @ Do you know the voyce, Sir? @ Yes, 'tis a Gentlemans that's much afflicted In's mind: great pity Ladies. @ Now heaven help him. @ He came to me, to ask free pardon of me, For some things done long since, which his distemper Made to appear like wrong, but 'twas not so. @ O that this could be truth. @ Perswade your self. @ To what end Gentlemen, when all is perish'd Upon a wrack, is there a hope remaining? The Sea, that ne'r knew sorrow, may be pitiful, My credit's split, and sunk, nor is it possible, Were my life lengthened out as long as = @ I like this well. @ Your mind is too mistrustful. @ I have a vertuous Sister, but I scorn'd her, A Mistris too, a noble Gentlewoman, For goodness all out-going. @ Now I know him. @ With these eyes friends, my eyes must never see more. @ This is for your sake Mary: take heed Cousin, A man is not so soon made. @ O my fortune! But it is just, I be despis'd and hated. @ Despair not, 'tis not manly: one hours goodness Strikes off an infinite of ills. @ Weep truly And with compassion, Cousin. @ How exactly, This cunning young Thief playes his part! @ Well Tom, My Tom again, if this be truth. @ She weeps Boy. @ O I shall die. @ Now Heaven defend. @ Thou hast her. @ Come lead me to my Friend to take his farewel, And then what fortune shall befal me, welcome, How does it show? @ O rarely well. @ Say you so, Sir. @ O ye grand Ass. @ And are ye there my Juggler? Away we are abus'd, Alice. @ Fool be with thee. @ Where is she. @ Gone; she found you out, and finely, In your own noose she halter'd ye: you must be whispering To know how things shew'd: not content to fare well But you must roar out roast-meat; till that suspicion You carried it most neatly, she believed too And wept most tenderly; had you continu'd, Without doubt you had brought her off. @ This was thy Roguing, For thou wert ever whispering: fye upon thee Now could I break thy head. @ You spoke to me first. @ Do not anger me, For by this hand I'le beat the buzard blind then. She shall not scape me thus: farewel for this time. @ Good night, 'tis almost bed time: yet no sleep Must enter these, till I work a wonder. @ Thou shalt along too, for I mean to plague thee For this nights sins, I will never leave walking of thee Till I have worn thee out. @ Your will be done, Sir. @ You will not leave me, Sam. @ Not I. @ Away then: I'le be your guide now, if my man be trusty, My spightful Dame, I'le pipe ye such a hunsup Shall make ye dance a tipvaes: keep close to me. + @ Never perswade me, I will marry again, What should I leave my state to, Pins and Poaking-sticks, To Farthingals, and frownces? to fore-horses And an old Leather Bawdy house behind 'em. To thee? @ You have a Son, Sir. @ Where, what is he? Who is he like? @ Your self. @ Thou lyest, thou hast marr'd him, Thou, and thy prayer books: I do disclaim him: Did not I take him singing yesternight, A godly Ballad, to a godly tune too, And had a Catechism in's pocket, Damsel, One of your dear disciples, I perceive it? When did he ride abroad since he came over? What Tavern has he us'd to ? what things done That shews a man, and mettle? when was my house At such a shame before, to creep to bed At ten #a clock, and twelve, for want of company? No singing, nor no dancing, nor no drinking? Thou think'st not of these scandals; when, and where Has be but shew'd his sword of late? @ Despair not I do beseech you, Sir, nor tempt your weakness, For if you like it so, I can assure you He is the same man still. @ Would thou wert ashes On that condition; but believe it Gossip You shall know you have wrong'd. @ You never, Sir, So well I know my duty: and for Heaven sake, Take but this counsel with ye ere you marry, You were wont to hear me: take him, and confess him, Search him to the quick, and if you find him false, Do as you please, a Mothers name I honour. @ He is lost, and spoil'd, I am resolv'd my roof Shall never harbour him: and for you Minion I'le keep you close enough, lest you break loose, And do more mischief; get ye in: who waits? @ Do you call, Sir? @ Seek the Boy: and bid him wait My pleasure in the morning: mark what house He is in, and what he does: and truly tell me. @ I will not fail, Sir. @ If ye do, I'le hang ye. + @ Keep you the back door there, and be sure None of her servants enter, or go out, If any Woman pass, she is lawful prize, Boys, Cut off all convoyes. @ Who shall answer this? @ Why, I shall answer it, you fearful widgeon, I shall appear to th' action. @ May we discourse too, On honourable terms? @ With any Gentlewoman That shall appear at window: ye may rehearse too By your commission safely, some sweet parcels Of Poetry to a Chamber-maid. @ May we sing too? For there's my master-piece. @ By no means, no Boys, I am the man reserv'd for Air, 'tis my part, And if she be not rock, my voyce shall reach her: You may record a little, or ye may whistle, As time shall minister, but for main singing, Pray ye satisfie your selves: away, be careful. @ But hark ye, one word Tom, we may be beaten. @ That's as ye think good your selves: if you deserve it, Why 'tis the easiest thing to compass: beaten? What Bugbears dwell in thy brains? who should beat thee? @ She has men enough. @ Art thou not man enough too? Thou hast flesh enough about thee: if all that mass Will not maintain a little spirit, hang it, And dry it too for dogs-meat: get you gone; I have things of moment in my mind: that door, Keep it as thou would'st keep thy Wife from a Servingman. No more I say: away, Sam. @ At your will, Sir @ I have him here, a rare Rogue, good sweet Master, Do something of some savour suddenly, That we may eat, and live: I am almost starv'd, No point manieur, no point devein, no Signieur, Not by the vertue of my languages, Nothing at my old masters to be hoped for, O Signieur du, nothing to line my life with, But cold Pyes with a cudgel, till you help us. @ Nothing but famine frights thee: come hither Fidler, What Ballads are you seen in best? be short Sir. @ Under you masterships correction, I can sing The Duke of Norfolk, or the merry Ballad Of Diverus and Lazarus, the Rose of England, In Creet when Dedimus first began, Jonas his crying out against Coventry. @ Excellent Rare matters all. @ Mawdlin the Merchants Daughter, The Devil, and ye dainty Dames. @ Rare still. @ The landing of the Spaniards at Bow, With the bloudy battel at Mile-end. @ All excellent: No tuning as ye love me; let thy Fidle Speak Welch, or any thing that's out of all tune, The vilder still the better, like thy self, For I presume thy voice will make no trees dance. @ Nay truly, ye shall have it ev'n as homely. @ Keep ye to that key, are they all abed trow? @ I hear no stirring any where, no light In any window, 'tis a night for the nonce Sir. @ Come strike up then and say the Merchants daughter, We'l bear the burthen: proceed to incision Fidler. @ Who's there? what noise is this? what rogue At these hours? @ O what is that to you my fool? O what is that to you, Pluck in your face you bawling Ass, Or I will break your brow. Hey down, down, down, A new Ballad, a new, a new. @ The twelfth of April, on May day, My house and goods were burnt away, &c. @ Why who is this? @ O damsel dear, Open the door, and it shall appear, Open the door, O gentle squire. @ I'le see thee hang'd first: farewel my dear, 'Tis master Thomas, there he stands. @ 'Tis strange That nothing can redeem him: rail him hence, Or sing him out in's own way, any thing To be deliver'd of him @ Then have at him: My man Thomas did me promise. He would visit me this night. @ I am here Love, tell me dear Love, How I may obtain thy sight. @ Come up to my window love, come, come, come, Come to my window my dear, The wind, nor the rain shall trouble thee again, But thou shalt be lodged here. @ And art thou strong enough? @ Up, up, I warrant ye. @ What do'st thou mean to do? @ Good Mistress peace, I'le warrant ye we'l cool him: Madge. @ I am ready. @ The love of Greece, and it tickled him so, That he devised a way to goe. Now sing the Duke of Northumberland. @ And climbing to promotion, He fell down suddenly. @ Farewel Sir. @ What hast thou done? thou hast broke his neck. @ Not hurt him, He pitcht upon his legs like a Cat. @ O woman: O miserable woman, I am spoil'd, My leg, my leg, my leg, oh both my legs! @ I told thee what thou hadst done, mischief go with thee. @ O I am lam'd for ever: O my leg, Broken in twenty places: O take heed, Take heed of women, Fidler: oh a Surgeon, A Surgeon or I dye: oh my good people, No charitable people, all despightfull, Oh what a misery am I in! oh my leg. @ Be patient Sir, be patient: let me bind it. @ Oh do not touch it rogue. @ My head, my head, Oh my head's kill'd. @ You must be courting wenches Through key-holes, Captain Hylas, come and be comforted, The skin is scarce broke. @ O my leg. @ How do ye Sir? @ Oh maim'd for ever with a fall, he's spoil'd too, I see his brains. @ Away with me for Gods sake, A Surgeon. @ Here's a night indeed. @ A Surgeon. @ Go run for help. @ Oh. @ Run all, and all too little, O cursed beast that hurt him, run, run, flye, He will be dead else. @ Oh. @ Good friend go you too. @ Who pays me for my Musick? @ Pox o' your Musick, There's twelve pence for ye. @ There's two groats again forsooth, I never take above, and rest ye merry. @ A grease pot guild your fidle strings: how do you, How is my dear? @ Why well I thank ye sweet heart, Shall we walk in, for now there's none to trouble us? @ Are ye so crafty, Sir? I shall meet with ye, I knew your trick, and I was willing: my Tom, Mine own Tom, now to satisfie thee, welcom, welcom, Welcom my best friend to me, all my dearest. @ Now ye are my noble Mistress: we lose time sweet. @ I think they are all gone. @ All, ye did wisely. @ And you as craftily. @ We are well met Mistress. @ Come, let's goe in then lovingly: O my Skarf Tom. I lost it thereabout, find it, and wear it As your poor Mistress favour. @ I am made now, I see no venture is in no hand: I have it, How now? the door lock't, and she in before? Am I so trim'd? @ One parting word sweet Thomas, Though to save your credit, I discharg'd your Fidler, I must not satisfie your folly too Sir, Ye'\are subtle, but believe it Fox, I'le find ye, The Surgeons will be here straight, roar again boy, And break thy legs for shame, thou wilt be sport else, Good night. @ She saies most true, I must not stay: she has bob'd me, Which if I live, I'le recompence, and shortly, Now for a Ballad to bring me off again. All young men be warn'd by me, how you do goe #a wooing. Seek not to climb, for fear ye fall, thereby comes your undoing, &c. + @ He cannot goe and take no farewel of me, Can he be so unkind? he's but retir'd Into the Garden or the Orchard: see Sirs. @ He would not ride there certain, those were planted Only for walks I take it. @ Ride? nay then, Had he a horse out? @ So the Groom delivers Somewhat before the break of day. @ He's gone, My best friend's gone Alice; I have lost the nobleest, The truest, and the most man I e're found yet. @ Indeed Sir, he deserves all praise. @ All Sister, All, all, and all too little: O that honesty, That ermine honesty, unspotted ever, That perfect goodness. @ Sure he will return Sir, He cannot be so harsh. @ O never, never, Never return, thou know'st not where the cause lyes. @ He was the worthiest welcom. @ He deserv'd it. @ Nor wanted, to our knowledge. @ I will tell thee, Within this hour, things that shall startle thee, He never must return. @ Good morrow Signieur. @ Good morrow Master Michael. @ My good neighbour, Me thinks you are stirring early since your travel, You have learn'd the rule of health sir, where's your mistress? She keeps her warm I warrant ye, i'\bed yet? @ I think she does, @ 'Tis not her hour of waking. @ Did you lye with her, Lady? @ Not #to night Sir, Nor any night this week else. @ When last saw ye her? @ Late yesternight. @ Was she 'bed then? @ No Sir, I left her at her prayers: why do ye ask me? @ I have been strangely haunted with a dream All this long night, and after many wakings, The same dream still; me thought I met young Cellide Just at [S.] Saint Katherines gate the Nunnery. @ Ha? @ Her face slubber'd o're with tears, and troubles, Me thought she cry'd unto the Lady Abbess, For charity receive me holy woman, A Maid that has forgot the worlds affections, Into they virgin order: me thought she took her, Put on a Stole, and sacred robe upon her, And there I left her. @ Dream? @ Good Mistress Alice Do me the favour (yet to satisfie me) To step but up, and see. @ I know she's there Sir, And all this but a dream. @ You know not my dreams, They are unhappy ones, and often truths, But this I hope, yet. @ I will satisfie ye. @ Neighbours, how does the Gentleman? @ I know not, Dream of a Nunnery? @ How found ye my words About the nature of his sickness Valentine? @ Did she not cry out, 'twas my folly too That forc'd her to this nunnery? did she not curse me? For God sake speak: did you not dream of me too, How basely, poorly, tamely, like a fool, Tir'd with his joyes? @ Alas poor Gentleman, Ye promis'd me Sir to bear all these crosses. @ I bear 'em till I break again. @ But nobly, Truly to weigh. @ Good neighbours, nor more of it, Ye do but fling flax on my fire: where is she? @ Not yonder Sir, nor has not this night certain Been in her bed. @ It must be truth she tells ye, And now I'le shew ye why I came: this morning A man of mine being employed about business, Came early home, who at [S.] Saint Katherines Nunnery, About day peep, told me he met your Mistress, And as I spoke it in a dream, so troubled And so received by the Abbess, did he see her, The wonder made me rise, and hast unto ye To know the cause. @ Farewel, I cannot speak it. @ For Heaven sake leave him not. @ I will not Lady. @ Alas, he's much afflicted, @ We shall know shortly more, apply your own care At home good Alice, and trust him to my counsel, Nay, do not weep, all shall be well, despair not. + @ At Valentines house so merry? @ As a pie Sir. @ So gamesom dost thou say? @ I am sure I heard it. @ Ballads, and Fidles too? @ No, but one Fidle; But twenty noyses. @ Did he do devises? @ The best devises Sir: here's my fellow Launcelot He can inform ye all: he was among 'em, A mad thing too: I stood but in a corner. @ Come Sir, what can you say? is there any hope yet. Your Master may return? @ He went far else, I will assure your worship on my credit By the faith of a Travellor, and a Gentleman, Your son is found again, the son, the Tom. @ Is he the old Tom? @ The old Tom. @ Go forward. @ Next, to consider how he is the old Tom. @ Handle me that. @ I would ye had seen it handled Last night Sir, as we handled it: cap #a pe, Footra for leers, and learings; O the noise, The noise we made. @ Good, good. @ The windows clattering And all the Chambermaids in such a whobub, One with her smock half off, another in hast With a serving mans hose upon her head. @ Good still. @ A fellow railing out of a loop-hole there, And his mouth stopt with durt. @ I' faith a fine Boy. @ Here one of our heads broke. @ Excellent good still. @ The Gentleman himself, young [M.] Master Thomas, Inviron'd with his furious Myrmidons, The fiery Fidler, and my self; now singing, Now beating at the door, there parlying, Courting at that window, at the other scalling And all these several noises to two Trenchers, Strung with a bottom of brown thred, which show'd admirable. @ There eat, and grow again, I am pleas'd. @ Nor here Sir, Gave we the frolick over: though at length We quit the Ladies Skonce on composition; But to the silent streets we turn'd our furies: A sleeping watchman here we stole the shooes from, There made a noise, at which he wakes, and follows; The streets are durty, takes a queen-hith cold, Hard cheese, and that choaks him o' Munday next: Windows, and signs we sent to Erebus; A crew of bawling curs we entertain'd last, When having let the pigs loose in out parishes, O the brave cry we made as high as Algate! Down comes a Constable, and the Sow his Sister Most traiterously tramples upon Authority, There a whole stand of rug gowns rowted manly And the Kings peace put to flight: a purblind pig here Runs me his head into the Admirable Lanthorn, Out goes the light, and all turns to confusion: A potter rises, to enquire this passion, A Boar imbost takes sanctuary in his shop, When twenty dogs rush after, we still cheering, Down goe the pots, and pipkins, down the pudding pans, The cream-bolls cry revenge here, there the candlesticks, @ If this be true, thou little tyney page, This tale that thou tell'st me, Then on thy back will I presently hang A handsom new Livery: But if this be false, thou little tyney page As false it well may be, Then with a cudgel of four foot long Ile beat thee from head to toe. @ Will the boy come? @ He will Sir. @ Time tries all then. @ Here he comes now himself Sir. @ To be short Thomas, Because I feel a scruple in my conscience Concerning thy demeanour, and a main one, And therefore like a Father would be satisfi'd, Get up to that window there, and presently Like a most compleat Gentleman, come from Tripoly. @ Good Lord Sir, how are you misled: what fancies (Fitter for idle boys, and drunkards, let me speak't, And with a little wonder I beseech [ou] you) Choak up your noble judgement? @ You Rogue Launcelot, You lying Rascal. @ Will ye spoil all again Sir. Why, what a Devil do you mean? @ Away knave, Ye keep a company of sawcy fellows, Debosh'd, and daily drunkards, to devour ye, Things whose dull souls, tend to the Celler only, Ye are ill advis'd Sir, to commit your credit. @ Sirrah, Sirrah @ Let me never eat again Sir, Nor feel the blessing of another blew-coat, If this young Gentleman, sweet Master Thomas, Be not as mad as heart can wish: your heart Sir, If yesternights discourse: speak fellow Robin, And if thou speakest less than truth. @ 'Tis strange these varlets. @ By these ten bones Sir, if these eyes, and ears Can hear and see. @ Extream strange, should thus boldly Bud in your sight, unto your son. @ O deu guin Can ye deny, ye beat a Constable Last night? @ I touch Authoritie, ye Rascal? I violate the Law? @ Good Master Thomas. @ Did you not take two wenches from the watch too And put 'em into pudding lane? @ We mean not Those civil things you did at [M.] Master Valentines, The Fiddle, and the fa'las. @ O strange impudence! I do beseech you Sir give no such licence To knaves and drunkards, to abuse your son thus: Be wise in time, and turn 'em off: we live Sir In a State govern'd civilly, and soberly, Where each mans actions should confirm the Law, Not crack, and cancel it. @ Lancelot du Lake, Get you upon adventures: cast your coat And make your exit. @ Pur Lamour de dieu. @ Pur me no purs: but pur at that door, out Sirrah, I'le beat ye purblind else, out ye eight languages. @ My bloud upon your head. @ Purge me 'em all Sir. @ And you too presently. @ Even as you please Sir. @ Bid my maid servant come, and bring my Daughter, I will have one shall please me. @ 'Tis most fit Sir. @ Bring me the mony there: here [M.] Master Thomas. I pray sit down, ye are no more my son now, Good Gentleman be cover'd. @ At your pleasure. @ This mony I do give ye, because of whilom You have been thought my son, and by my self too, And some things done like me: ye are now another: There is two hundred pound, a civil summe For a young civil man: much land and Lordship Will as I take it now, but prove temptation To dread ye from your setled, and sweet carriage. @ You say right Sir. @ Nay I beseech ye cover. @ At your dispose: and I beseech ye too Sir, For the word civil, and more setled course It may but put to use, that on the interest Like a poor Gentleman. @ It shall, to my use, To mine again: do you see Sir: good fine Gentleman, I give no brooding mony for a Scrivener, Mine is for present traffick, and so I'le use it. @ So much for that then. @ For the main cause Monsieur, I sent to treat with you about, behold it; Behold that piece of story work, and view it. I want a right heir to inherit Me, Not my estate alone, but my conditions, From which you are revolted, therefore dead, And I will break my back, but I will get one. @ Will you choose there Sir? @ There, among those Damsels, In mine own tribe: I know their qualities Which cannot fail to please me: for their beauties A matter of a three farthings, makes all perfect, A little beer, and beef broth: they are sound too. Stand all a breast: now gentle [M.] Master Thomas Before I choose, you having liv'd long with me, And happily sometimes with some of these too, Which fault I never frown'd upon; pray shew me (For fear we confound our Genealogies) Which have you laid aboord? speak your mind freely, Have you had copulation with that Damsel? @ I have. @ Stand you aside then: how with her Sir? @ How, is not seemly here to say. @ Here's fine sport. @ Retire you too: Speak forward [M.] Master Thomas. @ I will : and to the purpose; even with all Sir. @ With all? that's somewhat large. @ And yet you like it. Was ever sin so glorious? @ With all Thomas? @ All surely Sir. @ A sign thou art mine own yet, In again all: and to your several functions. What say you to young Luce, my neighbours Daughter, She was too young I take it, when you travel'd; Some twelve years old? @ Her will was fifteen Sir. @ A pretty answer, to cut off long discourse, For I have many yet to ask ye of, Where I can choose, and nobly, hold up your finger, When ye are right: what say ye to Valeria Whose husband lies #a dying now? why two, And in that form? @ Her husband is recover'd. @ A witty moral: have at ye once more Thomas, The Sisters of [St.] Saint Albons, all five; dat boy, Dat's mine own boy. @ Now out upon thee Monster. @ Still hoping of your pardon. @ There needs none man: A straw on pardon: prethee need no pardon: I'le aske no more, nor think no more of marriage, For o' my conscience I shall be thy Cuckold: There's some good yet left in him: bear your self well, You may recover me, there's twenty pound Sir, I see some sparkles which may flame again, You may eat with me when you please, you know me. @ Why do you lye so damnably, so foolishly? @ Do'st thou long to have thy head broke? hold thy peace And do as I would have thee, or by this hand I'le kill thy Parrat, hang up thy small hand, And drink away they dowry to a penny. @ Was ever such a wilde Asse? @ Prethee be quiet. @ And do'st thou think men will not beat thee monstrously For abusing their wives and children? @ And do'st thou think Mens wives and children can be abus'd too much? @ I wonder at thee. @ Nay, thou shalt adjure me Before I have done. @ How stand ye with your mistress? @ I shall stand nearer E're I be twelve hours older: there's my business She is monstrous subtile Dol. @ The Devil I think Cannot out-subtile thee. @ If he play fair play, Come, you must help me presently. @ I discard ye. @ Thou shalt not sleep nor eat. @ I'le no hand with ye, No bawd to your abuses. @ By this light Dol, Nothing but in the way of honesty. @ Thou never knew'st that road: I hear your vigils. @ Sweet honey Dol, if I do not marry her, Honestly marry her, if I mean not honourably, Come, thou shalt help me, take heed how you vex me, I'le help thee to a husband too, a fine Gentleman, I know thou art mad, a tall young man, a brown man, I swear he has his maidenhead, a rich man. @ You may come in to dinner, and I'le answer ye. @ Nay I'le go with thee Dol: four hundred a year wench. + @ Good Sir go back again, and take my counsel, Sores are not cur'd by sorrows, nor time broke from us, Pull'd back again by sighs. @ What should I do friend? @ Do that that may redeem ye, go back quickly, Sebastians Daughter can prevail much with her, The Abbess is her Aunt too. @ But my friend then Whose love and loss is equal ty'd. @ Content ye, That shall be my task if he be alive, Or where my travel and my care may reach him, I'le bring him back again. @ Say he come back To piece his poor friends life out? and my Mistres Be vow'd for ever a recluse? @ So suddenly She cannot, hast ye therefore instantly away Sir, To put that Daughter by; first as to a Father, Then as a friend she was committed to ye, And all the care she now has: by which priviledge She cannot do her this violence But you may break it, and the law allows ye. @ O but I forc'd her to it. @ Leave disputing Against your self, if you will needs be miserable Spight of her goodness and your friends perswasions. Think on, and thrive thereafter. @ I will home then. And follow your advice, and good, good Michael. @ No more, I know your soul's divided, Valentine, Cure but that part at home with speedy marriage E're my return, for then those thoughts that vext her, While there ran any stream for loose affections, Will be stopt up, and chaste ey'd honour guide her. Away, and hope the best still: I'le work for ye, And pray too heartily, away, no more words. + @ I care not for my broken head, But that it should be his plot, and a wench too, A lowzie, lazie wench prepar'd to do it. @ Thou hadst as good be quiet, for o' my conscience He'l put another on thee else. @ I am resolv'd To call him to account, was it not manifest He meant a mischief to me, and laughed at me, When he lay roaring out, his leg was broken, And no such matter? had be broke his neck, Indeed 'twould ne'r have griev'd me; gallows gall him. Why should he chuse out me? @ Thou art ever ready To thrust thy self into these she occasions, And he as full of knavery to accept it. @ Well, if I live I'll have a new trick for him. @ That will not be amiss, but to fight with him Is to no purpose; besides, he's truly valiant, And a most deadly hand; thou never fought'st yet, Nor o' my Conscience hast no faith in fighting. @ No, no, I will not fight. @ Besides the quarrel, Which has a woman in't to make it scurvy, Who would lye stinking in a Surgeons hands, A month or two this weather? for believe it, He never hurts under a quarters healing. @ No, upon better thought, I will not fight, Sam, But watch my time. @ To pay him with a project; Watch him too, I would with ye; prithee tell me, Dost thou affect these women still? @ Yes, 'faith Sam, I love 'em ev'n as well as e'r I did, Nay, if my brains were beaten out, I must to 'em. @ Dost thou love any woman? @ Any woman Of what degree or calling. @ Of any age too? @ Of any age, from fourscore to fourteen, Boy, Of any fashion. @ And defect too? @ Right, For those I love to lead me to repentance; A woman with no Nose, after my surquedry, Shews like King Philip's Moral, Memento mori; And she that has a wooden leg, demonstrates Like Hypocrites, we halt before the gallows; An old one with one tooth, seems to say to us, Sweets meats have sowr sauce; she that's full of aches, Crum not your Bread before you taste your Porridge, And many morals we may find. @ 'Tis well, Sir, Ye make so worthy uses; but quid igitur, What shall we now determine? @ Let's consider An hour or two how I may fit this fellow. @ Let's find him first, he'll quickly give occasion, But take heed to your self, and say I warn'd ye; He has a plaguey pate. @ That at my danger. + @ Aboard, aboard, the wind stands fair. @ These call for Passengers, I'll stay and see What men they take aboard. @ A Boat, a Boat, a Boat. @ Away then. @ Whither are ye bound, Friends? @ Down to the Straits. @ Ha! 'tis not much unlike him. @ May I have passage for my money. @ And welcome too. @ 'Tis he, I know 'tis he now. @ Then merrily aboard, and noble friend, Heavens goodness keep thee ever, and all vertue Dwell in thy bosome, Cellide, my last tears I leave behind me thus, a sacrifice, For I dare stay no longer to betray ye. @ Be no so quick, Sir; Saylers I here charge ye By virtue of this Warrant, as you will answer it, For both your Ship and Merchant I know perfectly, Lay hold upon this fellow. @ Fellow? @ #I, Sir. @ No hand to Sword, Sir, we shall master ye, Fetch out the manacles. @ I do obey ye; But I beseech you, Sir, inform me truly How I am guilty. @ You have rob'd a Gentleman, One that you are bound to for your life and being; Money and horse unjustly ye took from him, And something of more note, but = for y'\are a Gentleman. @ It shall be so, and here I'll end all miseries, Since friendship is so cruel, I confess it, And which is more, a hundred of these robberies: This ring I stole too from him, and this jewel, The first and last of all my wealth; forgive me My innocence and truth, for saying I stole 'em, And may they prove of value but to recompence The thousandth part of his love, and bread I have eaten, 'Pray see 'em render'd noble Sir, and so I yield me to your power. @ Guard him to th' water, I charge you, Saylers, there I will receive him, And back convey him to a Justice. @ Come, Sir, Look to your neck, you are like to fail i'th air now. + @ Come quickly, quickly, paint me handsomely, Take heed my nose be not in grain too; Come Doll, Doll, disen me. @ If you should play now Your Devils parts again. @ Yea and nay, Dorothy. @ If ye do anything, but that ye have sworn to, Which only is access. @ As I am a Gentleman; Out with this hair, Doll, handsomely. @ You have your Breeches? @ I prithee away, thou know'st, I am monstrous ticklish, What, dost thou think I love to blast my Buttocks? @ I'll plague ye for this Roguery; for I know well What ye intend, Sir. @ On with my muffler. @ Ye are a sweet Lady; come, let's see you courtesie; What, broke i'th bum? hold up your head. @ Plague on't, I shall bepiss my Breeches if I cowr thus, Come, I am ready. @ At all points as like. Sir, As if you were my Mistress. @ Who goes with ye? @ None but my fortune, and myself. @ 'Bless ye: Now run for thy life, and get before him, Take the by-way and tell my Cousin Mary In what shape he intends to come to cozen her; I'll follow at thy heels myself, fly Wench. @ I'll do it. @ My Father has met him; this goes excellent, And I'll away in time; look to your Skin, Thomas. @ What are you grown so corn fed, Goody Gillian, You will not know your Father? what vagaries Have you in hand? what out-leaps, durty heels, That at these hours of night ye must be gadding, And through the Orchard take your private passage? What, is the breeze in your Breech? or has your Brother Appointed you an hour of meditation How to demean himself; get ye to bed, drab, Or I'll so crab your Shoulders; ye demure Slut, Ye civil dish of sliced Beef, get ye in. @ I wi' not, that I wi' not. @ Is't ev'n so, Dame? Have at ye with a night Spell then. @ 'Pray hold, Sir. @ [St.] Saint George, [St.] Saint George, our Ladies Knight, He walks by day, so does he by night, And when he had her found, He her beat, and her bound, Until to him her troth she plight, She would not stir from him that night. @ Then have at ye with a Counter Spell, From Elves, Hobs, and Fayries, that trouble our Dayries, From Fire-Drakes and Fiends, and such as the Devil sends, Defend us good Heaven. @ Bless me master; look up, Sir, I beseech ye, Up with your eyes to heaven. @ Up with your nose, Sir, I do not bleed, 'twas a sound knock she gave me, A plaguey mankind Girl, how my brains totters? Well, go thy ways, thou hast got one thousand pound more With this dog trick, Mine own true spirit in her too. @ In her? alas Sir, Alas poor Gentlewoman, she a hand so heavy, To knock ye like a Calf down, or so brave a courage To beat her father? if you could believe, Sir. @ Who would'st thou make me believe it was, the Devil? @ One that spits fire as fast as he somtimes, Sir, And changes shapes as often; your Son Thomas; Never wonder, if it be not he, straight hang me. @ He? if it be so, I'll put thee in my Will, and there's an end on't. @ I saw his legs, #h'as Boots on like a Player, Under his wenches cloaths, 'tis he, 'tis Thomas In his own Sisters Cloaths, Sir, and I can wast him. @ No more words then, we'll watch him, thou'lt not believe + Launce, How heartily glad I am. @ May ye be gladder, But not this way, Sir. @ No more words, but watch him. + @ When comes he? @ Presently. @ Then get you up, Doll, Away, I'll straight come to you: is all ready? @ All. @ Let the light stand far enough. @ 'Tis placed so. @ Stay you to entertain him to his chamber, But keep close, Wench, he flyes at all. @ I warrant ye. @ You need no more instruction? @ I am perfect. @ More stops yet? sure the fiend's my ghostly father, Old Valentine; what wind's in his poop? @ Lady, You are met most happily; O gentle Doll, You must now do me an especial favour. @ What is it, master Valentine? I am sorely troubled With a salt rheum faln i' my gums. @ I'll tell ye, And let it move you equally; my blest Mistress, Upon a slight occasion taking anger, Took also (to undo me) your Aunts Nunnery, From whence by my perswasion to redeem her, Will be impossible: nor have I liberty To come and visit her; my good, good Dorothy, You are most powerful with her, and your Aunt too, And have access at all hours liberally, Speak now or never for me. @ In a Nunnery? That course must not be suffered, Master Valentine, Her Mother never knew it; rare sport for me; Sport upon sport, by th' break of day I'll meet ye, And fear not, Man, we'll have her out I warrant ye, I cannot stay now. @ You will not break? @ By no means. Good night. @ Good night kind Mistress Doll. @ This thrives well, Every one takes me for my Sister, excellent; This Nunnery's faln so pat too, to my figure, Where there be handsome wenches, and they shall know it, If once I creep in, ere they get me out again; Stay, here's the house, and one of her Maids. @ Who's there? O Mistress Dorothy! you are a stranger. @ Still Mistress Dorothy? this geer will cotton. @ Will you walk in, Forsooth? @ Where is your Mistress? @ Not very well; she's gone to bed, I am glad You are come so fit to comfort her. @ Yes, I'll comfort her. @ Pray make not much noise, for she is sure asleep, You know your side, creep softly in, your company Will warm her well. @ I warrant thee I'll warm her. @ Your Brother has been here, the strangest fellow. @ A very Rogue, a rank Rogue. @ I'll conduct ye Even to her Chamber-door, and there commit ye. + @ Come Sir, for this night I shall entertain ye, And like a Gentleman, how e'r your fortune Hath cast ye on the worst part. @ How you please, Sir, I am resolv'd, nor can a joy or misery Much move me now. @ I am angry with my self now For putting this forc'd way upon his patience, Yet any other course had been too slender: Yet what to think I know not, for most liberally He hath confess'd strange wrongs, which if they prove so, How e'r the others long love may forget all, Yet 'twas most fit he should come back, and this way. Drink that; and now to my care leave your Prisoner, I'll be his guard for this night. @ Good night to your Worship. @ Good night, my honest friends; come, Sir, I hope There shall be no such cause of such a sadness As you put on. @ 'Faith, Sir, my rest is up, And what I now pull shall no more afflict me Than if I plaid at span-Counter, nor is my face The map of anything I seem to suffer, Lighter affections seldom dwell in me, Sir. @ A constant Gentleman; would I had taken A feaver when I took this harsh way to distrub him. Come, walk with me, Sir, ere tomorrow might I doubt not but to see all this blown over. + @ I have dog'd his Sister, sure 'twas she, And I hope she will come back again this night too; Sam I have lost of purpose; now if I can With all the art I have, as she comes back, But win a parley for my broken Pate, Off goes her maiden-head, and there's vindicta. They stir about the house, I'll stand at distance. @ Is he come in? @ Speak softly, He is, and there he goes. @ Good night, good night, Wench. @ As softly as you can. @ I'll play the mouse, Nan, How close the little thief lies! @ How he itches? @ What would you give now to be there, and I At home, Mall? @ Peace for shame. @ In what a figure The little fool has pull'd it self together! Anon you will lye straighter; Ha! there's rare circumstance Belongs to such a treatise; do ye tumble? I'll tumble with ye straight, wench: she sleeps soundly, Full little think'st thou of thy joy that's coming, The sweet, sweet joy, full little of the kisses, But those unthought of things come ever happiest. How soft the Rogue feels! O ye little Villain, Ye delicate coy Thief, how I shall thrum ye? Your fy away, good servant, as you are a Gentleman. @ Prithee leave laughing. @ Out upon ye, Thomas, What do you mean to do? I'll call the house up. O God, I am sure ye will not, shall not serve ye, For up ye go now and ye were my father. @ your courage will be cool'd anon. @ If it do I'll hang for't, Yet I'le be quartered here first. @ O fierce Villian. @ What would he do indeed, Doll? @ You had best try him. @ I'll kiss thee ere I come to bed, sweet Mary. @ Prithee leave laughing. @ O for gentle Nicholas. @ And view that stormy face that has so thundred me, A coldness crept over't now? by your leave, candle, And next door by yours too, so, a pretty, pretty, Shall I now look upon ye? by this light it moves me. @ Much good may it do you, Sir. @ Holy Saints defend me, The Devil, Devil, Devil, O the Devil. @ Ha, ha, ha, ha, the Devil, O the Devil. @ I am abus'd most damnedly, most beastly, Yet if it be a she-Devil; but the house is up, And here's no staying longer in this Cassock. Woman, I here disclaim thee; and in vengeance I'll marry with that Devil, but I'll vex thee. @ By'r Lady, but you shall not, Sir, I'll watch ye. @ Plague o' your Spanish leather hide: I'll waken ye; Devil good night: good night, good Devil. @ Oh. @ Roar again, Devil, roar again. @ O, O, Sir. @ Open the doors before him; let him vanish: Now, let him come again, I'll use him kinder. How now Wench? @ 'Pray lye here your self next, next, Mistress, And entertain your sweet-heart. @ What said he to thee? @ I had a soft Bed, and I slept out all But his kind farewel: ye may bake me now, For o' my conscience, he has made me Venison. @ Alas poor Kate; I'll give thee a new Petticoat. @ And I a Wastecoat, wench. @ Draw in the Bed, Maids, And see it made again; put fresh sheets on too, For Doll and I; come Wench, let's laugh an hour now. #To morrow, early, will we see young Cellide, They say she has taken a Sanctuary; Love and they Are thick sown, but come up so full of thistles. @ They must needs, Mall, for 'tis a pricking age grown, Prithee to bed, for I am monstrous sleepy. @ A match, but art not thou thy Brother? @ I would I were, Wench, You should hear further. @ Come, no more of that, Doll. + @ I heard the doors clap; now, and't be thy will, wench. By th' Mass she comes; you are surely met fair Gentlewoman, I take it, Mistress Doll Sebastians Daughter. @ I take right, Sir; Hylas, are you ferretting? I'll fit you with a penny-worth presently. @ How dare you walk so late, sweet, so weak guarded? @ 'Faith Sir, I do no harm, nor none I look for, Yet I am glad I have met so good a Gentleman, Against all chances; for though I never know ye, Yet I have heard much good spoke of ye. @ Hark Ye, What if a man should kiss ye? @ That's no harm, Sir; 'Pray God he 'scapes my Beard, there lies the mischief. @ Her lips are monstrous rugged, but that surely Is but the sharpness of the weather; hark ye once once more, And in your ear, sweet Mistress, for ye are so, And ever shall be from this hour: I have vow'd it. @ Why, that's my daughter, Rogue, dost thou not see her Kissing that fellow there, there in that corner? @ Kissing? @ Now, now, now they agree o'th' match too. @ Nay then you love me not. @ By this white hand, Doll. @ I must confess I have long desir'd your sight, Sir. @ Why, there's the Boots still, Sir. @ Hang Boots, Sir, Why, they'll wear Breeches too. @ Dishonest me? Not for the World. @ Why, now they kiss again, there I knew 'twas she, and that her crafty stealing Out the back way must needs have such a meaning. @ I am at my small wits ends. @ If ye mean honourably. @ Did she ne'r beat ye before, Sir? @ Why dost thou follow me? Thou Rascal, Slave, hast thou not twice abus'd me? Hast thou not spoil'd the Boy? by thine own Convenant, Would'st thou not now be hang'd? @ I think I would, Sir. But you are so impatient; does not this shew, Sir, (I do beseech ye speak, and speak with judgment, And let the case be equally consider'd) Far braver in your Daughter? in a Son now, 'Tis nothing, of no mark; every man does it, But to beget a Daughter, a man maiden, That reaches at these high exploits, is admirable; Nay, she goes far beyond him; for when durst he, But when he was drunk, do anything to speak of? This is Sebastian truly. @ Thou sayest right, Launce, And there's my hand once more. @ Not without Marriage. @ Didst thou hear that? @ I think she spoke of Marriage. @ And she shall marry her, for it seems she likes him, And their first Boy shall be my heir. @ #I, marry, Now ye go right to work. @ Fye, fie, Sir, Now I have promis'd ye this night to marry, Would ye be so intemperate? are ye a Gentleman? @ I have no maw to marriage, yet this Rascal Tempts me extreamly: will ye marry presently? @ Get you afore, and stay me at the Chapel, Close by the Nunnery, there you shall find a night Priest, Little Sir Hugh, and he can say the Matrimony Over without Book, for we must have no company, Nor light, for fear my Father know, which must not ye be; And then #to morrow night. @ Nothing #to night, Sweet? @ No, not a bit, I am sent of business, About my dowry, Sweet, do not spoil all now, 'Tis of much haste; I can scarce stay the marriage, Now if you love me, get you gone. @ You'll follow? @ Within this hour, my sweet Chick. @ Kiss. @ A Rope kiss ye, Come, come, I stand o' thorns. @ Methinks her mouth still Is monstrous rough, but they have ways to mend it, Farewel. @ Farewel, I'll fit ye with a wife, Sir. @ Come, follow close, I'll see the end she aims at, And if he be a handsome fellow, Launcelot, Fiat, 'tis done, and all my 'state is setled. + @ Come to your Mattins Maids; these early hours My gentle Daughter, will disturb #a while Your fair eyes, nurtur'd in ease. @ No, vertous Mother, 'Tis for my holy health, to purchase which, They shall forget the Child of ease, soft slumbers, O my afflicted heart, how thou art tortur'd! And love how like a Tyrant thou reign'st in me, Commanding and forbidding at one instant; Why came I hither, that desire to have Only all liberty to make me happy? Why did'st thou bring that young man home, O Valentine, That vertuous Youth? why didst thou speak his goodness In such a phrase, as if all tongues, all praises Were made for him? O fond and ignorant! Why didst thou foster my affection Till it grew up to know no other Father, And then betray it? @ Can ye sing? @ Yes, Mother, My sorrows only. @ Be gone, and to the Quire then. + @ Hast thou enquire'd him out? @ He's not at home, Sir, His Sister thinks he's gone to th' Nunnery. @ Most likely; I'll away, an hour hence, Sirrah, Come you along with this young Gentleman, Do him all service, and fair office. @ Yes Sir. + @ Where hast thou been, man? @ Is there ne'r a shop open? I'll give thee a pair of Gloves, Sam. @ What's the matter? @ What dost thou think? @ Thou are not married? @ By th' mass but I am, all to be married, I am i'th' order now, Sam. @ To whom prithee? I thought there was some such trick in't, you stole from me, But who, for Heavens sake? @ Ev'n the sweetest woman, The rarest Woman, Samuel, and the lustiest, But wondrous honest, honest as the ice, Boy, Not a bit before hand, for my life, Sirrah, And of a lusty kindred. @ But who, Hylas? @ The young Gentleman and I are like to be friends again, The fates will have it so. @ Who, Monsieur Thomas? @ All wrongs forgot. @ O now I smell ye, Hylas; Does he know of it? @ No, there's the trick I owe him; 'Tis done, Boy, we are fast 'faith, my Youth now Shall know I am aforehand, for his qualities. @ Is there no trick in't? @ None, but up and ride, Boy: I have made no Joynture neither, there I have paid him. @ She's a brave wench. @ She shall be as I'll use her, And if she anger me, all his abuses I'll clap upon her Cassock. @ Take heed, Hylas, @ 'Tis past that, Sam, come, I must meet her presently, And now shalt see me a most glorious Husband. + @ In troth, Sir, you never spoke to me. @ Can ye forget me? Did you promise all your help and cunning In my behalf, but for one hour to see her, Did you not swear it? by this hand, no strictness Nor rule this house holds, shall by me be broken. @ I saw ye not these two days. @ Do not wrong me, I met ye, by my life, just as you entred This gentle Ladies Lodge, last night, thus suited About eleven a clock. @ 'Tis true, I was there, But that I saw or spoke to you. @ I have found it, Your Brother Thomas, Doll. @ Pray Sir, be satisfi'd, And wherein I can do you good, command me. What a mad fool is this? stay here #a while, Sir, Whilst we walk in, and make your peace. @ I thank ye. @ Why, what's the matter there among these maids? Now benedicite, have ye got the breeze there? Give me my holy sprinkle. @ O Madam, there's a strange thing like a Gentlewoman, Like Mistress Dorothy, I think the fiend Crept into th' Nunnery we know not which way, Plays revel rout amoung us. @ Give me my holy water-pot. @ Here, Madam. @ Spirit of earth or air, I do conjure thee, Of water or of fire. @ Hark Madam, hark. @ Be thou Ghost that cannot rest, Or a shadow of the blest, Be thou black, or white, or green, Be thou heard, or to be seen. @ It comes, it comes. @ What are ye? speak, speak gently, And next, what would ye with me? @ Any thing you'l let me. @ You are no Woman certain. @ Nor you no Nun, nor shall not be. @ What make ye here? @ I am a holy Fryer. @ Is this the Spirit? @ Nothing but spirit Aunt. @ Now out upon thee. @ Peace, or I'le conjure too, Aunt. @ Why come you thus? @ That's all one, here's my purpose: Out with this Nun, she is too handsome for ye, Pet tell thee, Aunt, and I speak it with tears to thee, If thou keepst her here, as yet I hope thou art wiser, Mark but the mischief follows. @ She is a Votress. @ Let her be what she will, she will undo thee, Let her but one hour out, as I direct ye, Or have among your Nuns again. @ You have no project But fair and honest? @ As thine eyes, sweet Abbess. @ I will be rul'd then. @ Thus then and perswade her, But do not juggle with me, if ye do Aunt. @ I must be there my self. @ Away and fit her. @ Come Daughter, you must now be rul'd, or never. @ I must obey your will. @ That's my good Daughter. + @ What a coyle has this fellow kept i'th Nunnery, Sure he has run the Abbess out of her wits. @ Out of the Nunnery I think, for we can neither see her, Nor the young Cellide. @ Pray Heavens he be not teasing. @ Nay you may thank your self, 'twas your own structures. @ Why there's the Gentlewoman. @ Mass 'tis she indeed; How smart the pretty Thief looks? 'morrow Mistress. @ Good morrow to you, Sir. @ How strange she bears it? @ Maids must do so, at first. @ Would ye ought with us, Gentlemen? @ Yes marry would I, A little with your Ladyship. @ Your will, Sir. @ Doll, I would have ye presently prepare yourself And those things you would have with you, For my house is ready. @ How, Sir? @ And this night not to fail, you must come to me, My friends will all be there too: for Trunks, and those things, And household-stuff, and cloaths you would have carried, #To morrow, or the next day, I'le take order: Only what mony you have, bring away with ye, And Jewels. @ Jewels, Sir? @ #I, for adornment, There's a bed up, to play the game in, Dorothy: And now come kiss me heartily. @ Who are you? @ This Lady shall be welcome too. @ To what, Sir? @ You neighbour can resolve ye. @ The man's foolish, Sir, you look soberly: who is this fellow, And where's his business? @ By Heaven, thou art abus'd still. @ It may be so: Come ye may speak now boldly, There's none but friends, Wench. @ Came ye out of Bedlam? Alas, 'tis #ill, Sir, that ye suffer him To walk in th' open Air thus: 'twill undo him. A pretty handsome Gentleman: great pity. @ Let me not live more if thou be'st not cozen'd. @ Are not you my Wife? did not I marry you last night At [St.] Saint Michaels Chapel? @ Did not I say he was mad? @ Are not you Mistress Dorothy, Thomas's Sister? @ There he speaks sence, but I'le assure ye, Gentleman, I think no Wife of yours: at what hour was it? @ 'S pretious; you'l make me mad; did not the Priest, Sir Hugh, that you appointed, about twelve #a Clock Tye our hands fast? did not you swear you lov'd me? Did not I court ye, coming from this Gentlewomans? @ Good Sir, go sleep, for if I credit have, She was in my arms then, abed. @ I told ye. @ Be not so confident. @ By th' mass, she must, Sir; For I'le no Husband here, before I know him: And so good morrow to ye: Come, let's go seek 'em. @ I told ye what ye had done. @ Is the Devil stirring? Well, go with me; for now I will be married. . + @ I have brought him back again. @ You have done a friendship, Worthy the love you bear me. @ Would he had so too. @ O he's a worthy young man. @ When all's try'd, I fear you'll change your faith: bring in the Gentleman. @ My happy Mistress too! now Fortune help me, And all you Stars that govern chast desires Shine fair, and lovely. @ But one hour, dear Daughter, To hear your Guardian, what he can deliver In Loves defence, and his: and then your pleasure. @ Though much unwilling, you have made me yield, More for his sake I see: how full of sorrow Sweet catching sorrow, he appears? O love, That thou but knew'st to heal, as well as hurt us. @ Be rul'd by me: I see her eye fast on him, And what ye heard, believe, for 'tis so certain, He neither dar'd, nor must oppose my evidence; And be you wife, young Lady, and believe too, This man you love, Sir? @ As I love my soul, Sir @ This man you put into a free possession Of what his wants could ask: or your self render? @ And shall do still. @ Nothing was barr'd his liberty But this fair Maid; that friendship first was broken, And you, and she abus'd; next, (to my sorrow So fair a form should hide so dark intentions) He hath himself confess'd (my purpose being Only to stop his journey, by that policy Of laying Felony to his charge, to fright the Sailers) Divers abuses done, Thefts often practis'd, Moneys, and Jewels too, and those no trifles. @ O where have I bestrew'd my faith! in neither! Let's in for ever now, there is vertue. @ Nay do not wonder at it, he shall say it: Are ye not guilty thus? @ Yes: O my Fortune! @ To give a proof I speak not enviously, Look here; do you know these Jewels? @ In, good Mother. @ These Jewels I have known. @ You have made brave sport. @ I'le make more, if I live Wench, Nay do not look on me; I care not for ye. @ Do you see now plain? that's Mistres Dorothy, And that's his Mistris. @ Peace, let my joy work easily, Ha, boy! art there my boy? mine own boy, Tom, boy, Home Lance, and strike a fresh piece of Wine, the Town's ours. @ Sure, I have know these Jewels. @ They are they, certain. @ Good Heaven, that they were. @ I'le pawn my life on't, And this is he; come hither Mistris Dorothy, And Mistris Mary: who does that face look like; And view my Brother Well? @ In truth like him. @ Upon my troth exceeding like. @ Beshrew me, But much, and main resemblance, both of face And lineaments of body: now Heaven grant it. @ My Brother's full of passion, I'le speak to him. Now, as you are a Gentleman, resolve me, Where did you get these Jewels? @ Now I'le tell ye, Because blind fortune yet may make me happy, Of whom I had 'em I have never heard yet, But from my infancy, upon this arm I ever wore'em. @ 'Tis Francisco, Brother, By Heaven I ty'd em on: a little more, Sir, A little, little more, what parents have ye? @ None, That I know yet: the more my stubborn fortune, But as I heard a Merchant say that bred me, Who, to my more affliction, dyed a poor man, When I reach'd eighteen years. @ What said that Merchant? @ He said, an infant, in the Genoway Galleys, But from what place he never could direct me, I was taken in a Sea-fight, and from a Mariner, Out of his manly pity he redeem'd me. He told me of a Nurse that waited on me, But she, poor soul, he said was killed. A Letter to I had enclos'd within me, To one Castruccio a Venetian Merchant, To bring me up: the man, when years allow'd me, And what of frinds compell'd, I sought, but found him Long dead before, and all my hopes gone with him. The Wars was my retreat then, and my travel In which I found this Gentlemans free bounty, For which Heaven recompenc'd him: now ye have all. @ And all the worldly bliss that Heaven can send me, And all my prayers and thanks. @ Down o' your knees, Sir, For now you have found a Father, and that Father That will not venture ye again in Galleys. @ 'Tis true, believe her, Sir, and we all joy with ye. @ My best friend still; my dearest: now Heaven bless thee, And make me worthy of this benefit. Now my best Mistress. @ Now Sir, I come to ye. @ No, no, let's in Wench. @ Not for the world, now, Mother, And thus, Sir, all my service I pay to you, And all my love to him. @ And may it prosper, Take her Francisco: now nor more young Callidon, And love her dearly, for thy Father does so. @ May all hate seek me else, and thus I seal it. @ Nothing but mirth now, friends. @ Nay, I will find him. @ What do all these here? @ You are a trusty Husband, And a hot lover too. @ Nay the, good morrow, Now I perceive the Knavery. @ I still told ye. @ Stay, or I'le make ye stay: come hither, Sister. @ Why how now Mistris Thomas? @ Peace a little, THou would'st fain have a Wife? @ Not I, by no means. @ Thou shalt have a wife, and a fruitful wife, for I find, + Hylas, That I shall never be able to bring thee Children. @ A notable brave boy. @ I am very well, Sir. @ Thou shalt be better, Hylas, thou hast 7 hundred pounds a year And thou shalt make her 3 hundred joynture. @ No. @ Thou shalt boy, and shalt bestow Two hundred pound in Cloaths, look on her, A delicate lusty wench, she has fifteen hundred, And feasible: strike hands, or I'le strike first. @ You'l let me like? @ He's a good handsome fellow, Play not the fool. @ Strike, Brother Hylas, quickly. @ If you can love me, well. @ If you can please me. @ Try that out soon, I say, my Brother Hylas. @ Take her, and use her well, she's a brave Gentlewoman, @ You must allow me another Mistriss. @ Then you must allow me another Servant. @ Well, let's together then, a lusty kindred. @ I'le give thee five hundred pound more for that wench. @ Now Sir, for you and I to make the feast full. @ No, not a bit, you are a vertuous Lady, And love to live in contemplation. @ Come fool, I am friends now. @ The fool shall not ride ye, There lye my Woman, now my man again, And now for travel once more. @ I'le barr that first. @ And I next. @ Hold your self contented: for I say I will travel, So long I will travel, till I find a Father That I never knew, and a Wife that I never look'd for, And a state without expectation, So rest you merry Gentlemen. @ You shall not, From my faith, I love you now extreamly, And now I'le kiss ye. @ This will not do it, Mistress. @ Why when we are married, we'l do more. @ There's all Boy, The keyes of all I have, come, let's be merry, For now I see thou art right. @ Shall we to Church straight? @ Now presently, and there with nuptial The holy Priest shall make ye happy all. @ Away then, fair afore.