WHat a devil makes thee in so musty a humour? Thou art as dull and dump [...] as a fellow that had been drunk over night with Ale, and had done no [...]ng but drunk Coffee, talked Politicks, and read Gazettes all this morning.

Hast lost thy money, or thy wench?

Nay faith Hazard, if he has lost his money, I am sure he has lost his wench, in spight of the noble vertue of con­stancy.

Come Theodore a lucky hand or two at the Groom Porters, will get thee as good a Mistriss as any about the Town.

No pox on't they are kept so high by foolish elder Brothers, that poor younger Brothers must despaire of 'em.

No Rant, thou art mistaken, the Elder Brothers are so kind to keep 'em for the younger, that can not do't for themselves; they are civil to the one for love, and the other for money.

I am not of your opinion, there was never so much ready money and so little love stirring, as at this time.

Faith then we (that have but shallow purses) must three or four club for one, shee'l serve us all, considering how we drink. Come Theodore be not melancholy, if thou hast [Page 2] lost thy Mistriss, I'le club with thee for another.

So Gentlemen, [...]his Dialogue run [...] off very smartly; you had rehearsed it before, but I find you have the effects of last nights debauch upon you, and are hot headed this morn­ing, what else should make you think me melancholy?

Come faith, thou art.

I must confess Gentlemen I am not in so brisk a humour as to leap over Joynt-stooles, or come over a stick for the King, or any of those pretty frolicks; but I have no trouble, unless you will create me one.

I am so far from that, that I'le tell thee news that will rejoyce the heart of thee, if thou wert as dumpish as a young Spark that is newly denyed to be trusted for a white Periwig.

Prethee what's that?

That which I am sure you'l bite at.

There is the most delicate, charming creature, come to lye over against us in Bow-street! Oh tis a melting Girle, she looks as if she would dissolve like an Anchovee in Claret.

She would relish better (when a man has the hot fit upon him) than small Beer in a Feaver.

Than small Beer a pox on't, she would be more wel­come to thee than a Reprieve would, if thou wert just now trolling out Hopkins and Sternhold upon a Ladder.

You are mighty witty, and, full of similies; but who the Devil is this incomparable Lady?

Pox on't, thou art as testy as an old Leane Judge fa­sting, upon the Bench, between eleven and twelve.

I'le put him into a better humour; with this young Lady, is Mrs▪ Cheatly, party per pale Match-maker, and Baud, got acquainted, and has promised to bring her to a Ball at the Bear at Charing-Cross, where you know there is a very conve­nient Couch.

Oh she's a delicate bit for him that can get her, she's fit for one of us honest Fellows to debauch, and for a dull rich Fellow (born to the drudgery of Plowing Land and getting Heirs) to Marry.

But (if you be not too much transported to tell me) Pray who is this young Lady?

Why, 'tis one Isabella that lyes over against our Lodge­ing at the Blew Balcone.

'Sdeath what said he?

How now, are you nettled? Gad I'le lay my life this Rogue has been before-hand with us.

No faith Gentlemen, but this Lady I have seen, and know she has some qualities very unfit for your Company.

What are those Man?

Dam'd unfashionable qualities, call'd vertue, and mo­desty.

Pish, but if she be not too much season'd with vertue in this warm age, she cannot keep long.

Indeed but she will, in spight of that Villanous Se­ducer Cheatly, whose Clutches scarce any young Lady can scape.

Prethee speak not against thy Mother-in-Law, thou hadst the debauching of her Daughter Lettice.

I the debauching of her; she was debauch'd from her Mothers Womb, she has it ex Traduce.

I'le hold thee ten pound Cheatly brings this Lady to Supper, for all her vertue, and modesty.

'Sdeath Sir, I know she cannot, shall not do't.

On my Conscience he's in downright abominable love with this Lady.

Well, because you are a couple of good honest Fel­lows, that is, as farr as those that use Cater-deuce-azes, and smooth Boxes, and Cheat at Dice, can be.

Cheat? we do play a little upon advantage I confess, (as many people of Quality and most Gentlemen that are Gamesters do.)

Indeed false Boxes, and Dice are an advantage, but to let that pass: I will prevent your Errour, with this Isabella I am unreasonably and desperately in Love.

But 'its in an honourable way, I hope, not at all inclining to wedlock.

Yes faith, I am in Love, even to Matrimony.

Pox on thee for an unseasonable Fellow, to think of Matrimony in this age, when an honest Woman is almost [Page 4] asham'd to shew her Face, she finds triumphant Punk so much preferred before her.

If we, honest Fellows of the Town, go on as we be­gin, honest Women will come to be Ston'd in the Streets.

What, thou art turn'd a publick spirited Fellow, I warrant, and wisely considerest, that people are wanting in England, and that more frequent Marriage would be a means of Propagation.

And I believe thou hast subtilly found out that whore­ing, and Monasteries, are as great causes of their wanting people in Spain, as their West Indian Colonies.

None of these politick considerations I assure you; and yet ever since I saw Isabella I care less for a Whore, than you do for an honest Woman: Yet you shall find I am not wholly unfit for your Company, I have not given over all sins at once, for if you'l go before and bespeak, Dinner at Shatolins you shall see how I'le sowce you in Burgundy.

Well, wee'l go and hope, by the helpe of Burgundy, to recover your Senses again.

Have a care of loosing your own.

That we may have no advantage over you, wee'l each of us drink 2 or 3 Beer-glasses, before you come.

Adieu.

How now Bellamour, where's my Father.

Sir, he's busie upon a question in Arithmetick, to see how much 15 l. comes to in seven years, with use upon use.

What use his fifty in the hundred, that he takes of Herb-women and Oyster-women? For which they Pawn, their dear Rings, and Wedding Petticoats.

Sir, he's willing to make the most of his money.

Has he taken account what Dripping has been sold this week to the Kitchen-stuff Women? Has he weighed the ends of Candle, and Suet, to change for Candles of 20 in the pound?

All this Sir, and he has been higling with a Fellow, above half an hour this morning, about 5 Coney-Skins he sold him; nay, Good man, he's very careful, and all for you.

For me, [...] Sdeath I expect he should live fifty years longer, unless the Parliament would bring down money to four in the hundred; and faith I thought the report of that last Sessions, would have done an honest Filius ante Diem some kindness, but a pox ont he's recover'd, but no more of him, prethee send in my man to me.

I will Sir Robin.

What say you Sir?

Go in to your Master

Here comes the Mistress of my heart, my dearest Theodora, I see you now this morning, with as much Joy, as the Persians do the Rising Sun, that gives e'm all their Comfort.

For all your complements Bellamour, I find little prospect of comfort for either of us.

My dearest Theodora, I have observed much dejection in your Countenance, ever since the obliging assurances you have given me of your faith; do you repent of that engage­ment? then I am miserable.

No Bellamour, I cannot repent of any thing I do for you; you have too great a power overme, to suffer such re­sentments in my mind.

What then can be the reason, that in the miest of all my Joyes, I see you grieve.

The thousand difficulties we are to undergo.

Ah Madam, do but Love enough, and there are none.

There is an impossibility of getting my Fathers consent, though it would be so much to my advantage: His covetous Shagrin Humour makes him hate a Gentleman.

I have gained so much upon him, that I do not de­spaire of it; But since I have your consent, I have too much happiness for one man.

I must confess, my Bellamour, I could justifie my Love to you to all the world, but to my Father; I have to defend me your Person, and your Merit: I can never repay the obli­gations I have received from you, that after seven years Tra­vel, you can be content to stay from your Countrey, your Friends, and Kindred, and conceal your self from all the [Page 6] world but me: But above all, to put your self for my sake, in so base a condition, as to serve my Father, which is worse than Rowing in Gallies, this Testimony of your Love can never be forgotten.

Ah Madam! one kind look from you will overweigh a thousand such small Services: I must confess, serving your Father is the severest Task I have, to minister to his wretched Ava­rice, and endure the curses of all whom his extortion grieves. Pardon me, dear Theodora, that I take this liberty before you: This is a Subject, you know I can speak little good of.

I am too sensible of it, but I am extreamly glad to see you gain so much upon him by your Artifices.

You see Madam, Love is able to turne a man into all Shapes, nay into the worst, a Flatterer, to a Covetous man: But by the sordid applauding of what he does, and observing all his Rules and Maximes, I have gained this point; That he will hear or believe no man so soon as me.

But why do you not discover this to my Brother, and procure his assistance in it?

Your Father's and Brother's tempers are so opposite, that it is impossible to accommodate my selfe to both of 'em, but do you please to mannage our interests with your Brother, he Loves you extreamly, and will hear you; I hear him com­ing, I'le away.

Robin go stay within till I call you.

I will Sir.

Dear Theodora I am glad you are here, I have a secret of the greatest concernment in the world to me, to dis­cover to you.

I shall be glad to hear't, and (if I can) to serve you in it; what have you to say?

A thousand things, in one little word, Love.

How Brother are you in Love, I'le tell you—

Hold Sister, I know as well as you that I depend

upon a Father, and that the name of Son, carries an inviolable Duty along with it.

But Brother—

And that I ought not to engage my heart with­out the consent of him who gave me breath.

Do you hear—

And that Heaven has made our Parents disposers of our wills, and that they are in a condition to see more and be less deceived than we.

Hold a little.

And that we ought to trust the Eyes of their wis­dom before the blindness of our own passion.

Are you mad—

And that the heat of our youth misleads, and be­trays us often to dangerous precipices.

Not one of these wise things would I have said to you, but tell me, are you engaged to her you Love?

No, but resolv'd, in spight of all opposition, and I conjure you, give me no reasons.

Why do you believe I will?

You are no Lover, and faith I am damnably affraid of your wisdom.

You know not my condition Brother; but pray who is it that has Charm'd you thus?

A young Lady that Lyes near this place, of so ex­cellent a Beauty, so delicate a creature, I cannot think of her without an extasie.

Pray save your oratory, and in short, tell me who she is.

Her name is Isabella; but that which is my extream­est trouble, I have discover'd under hand, that she is the Daughter of a sickly Widdow, and of a small Fortune: You know the abominable humour of my Father (whose damn'd covetousness, if I had not n [...]w and then a Lucky hand at play, would make me forget all use of money) so that I have scarce any possibility of giving this Lady the least proof of my af­fection; and if I find not some means to do it, I am lost.

It is an inhumane thing of him to put us both to our Shifts, thus, to get but ordinary Cloths.

Prethee Sister, lets Joyn in our Complaints to him; and if he opposes us, we will quit our selves of his insuppor­table [Page 8] Tyranny, and seek our Fortunes together.

I hear him coming, he's inraged at something, pray let us retire and consult what to say to him, here he comes, step in.

Come on.

Out of my house you Dog, begon, make no replyes, you Rascal, that are a Sworn Thief; the Gallows groans for you.

Well, there was never any thing so wicked as this

damn'd old Fellow, and I think, under correction, the Devil's in him.

What's that you mutter between your Teeth Sarrah?

Why do you hunt me up and down thus?

Out you Hang-Dog, must you ask questions? Out of my Doors, or I'le knock you down.

A pox on this damn'd flea-flint

Why what have I done to you?

Dispute no more, begon.

My Master gave me order to stay here for him.

Get you gone and wait in the Street, you Rascal, must you stand here like a Sentinel, and (with your damn'd watchful Eyes) be a Spy upon my actions, to devour what I have, [...] to ferret up and down to see what there is to Steal.

What a Devil do you think I should steal, unless I should steal you?

Besides, He's as watchful as an Owl, a man that had killed seven men, Pissing against a wall, would rest more quietly.

You Dog must I be daily in danger to be Rob'd by you?

You are not a man to be Rob'd, all you have is un­er Lock and Key; besides you profess your self to be in great dant.

Oh how I tremble! Least this Rogue should sus­pect I have money hidden in my Garden: If he do's I am ruin'd. Though I have but little Sirra [...], I should be loth to loose it by such Rascals as you are. Besides what's Lock't up, is not there [Page 9] a Tin Candlestick, a Pair of Brass Snuffers, a Nutmeg-Grater, Bellows, and a Darnock Carpet.

I scorne 'em all.

Come Sirrah, you are one of the Rogues that re­ported that I have money hid.

How, have you money hid say you?

No no you Dog, I don't say so, I have no money hid you Villain you.

'Sdeath he distracts me.

Why what is't to me whether you have or have not.

What are you arguing? I'le beat your foolish reasons out of your head, once more, begon.

Well, I go.

Stay, have you taken nothing with you?

You had best search me.

Shew me your hands.

There.

The other—Both together—Stay have you put nothing here.

What a Devil should I put there?

Let me see here.

Such a man as you deserves to be Rob'd.

What say you?

I say I think you'l grope me all over.

So I will Sirrah.

A Plague on all covetousness, and covetous men.

What's that?

I say, a Plague upon all covetousness, and covetous men.

Of whom do you speak Sirrah?

Of covetous men.

What are those covetous men?

Rogues, Villans, Dogs, Caterpillers, Horse-Leeches, Vipers, Theives, Robbers, Sons of Whores.

How now you Rascal.

Why do you trouble your selfe Sir, you are none of those; may not I curse covetous Rogues?

Sirrah, to whom did you speak thus? tell me.

I spoke it—I spoke it—to that Rogue Dives in the Picture there.

And I speak to your fools head there, Sirrah take that, do you feele me Rogue?

Ay, pox on you, against my will.

Again Sirrah, out of my doors, I say, you insolent Villain.

A curse on him, he has broken my bones.

Oh the pains, the Jealousies, and fears a man must suffer that has great summes of money to guard; I cannot find one place safe enough about the house; Coffers and Trunks Theives can never scape. Let me see this particular. Imprimis, a thousand Pound, for which I have Pawnes worth two, at above fifty per Cent. Item in the City five thousand Pound, for which I have ten per Cent, and the best security in England.

Item in Morgages of Land from young Gay Sparks 6000l. Oh but that dear sum of six thousand broad pieces in my Garden, that transports me.

'Sdeath that I should read this Note loud, I have betrayed my self, they have over-heard me, and I am ruin'd; would they were both hang'd: Well, what's the matter with you, have you been long there?

No Sir, but now come.

What do ye stand listening?

Not we, I assure ye.

Come come ye did: if they over-heard me, I shall hang my self—

Not we, I assure you Sir.

I was saying to my self, how happy should I be if I had but six thousand Pound in the world.

You need not wish that.

'Tis false, 'tis false, Oh would to heaven I had! Oh how happy should I be, I should never complain then, that the times are hard, not I.

This is all but Raillerie Sir.

You have more than five times as much.

'Sdeath, what says he? Oh thou Villain, thou Viper thou, have I bred thee up to destroy me? are my Children become my greatest enemies?

Are those your enemies that say you are rich?

Oh it is the vilest injury you can do me, such dis­courses as these will make my throat be cut, Thieves will be­lieve I am all made up of Gold; your extravagant expences too, will make 'em think so.

I know none I am guilty of, unless keeping my self clean be so.

Oh your Periwigs, your Ribbands, your Laces, you are as much a Spark as any of those that go fine, keep Whores, and pay no debts, about the Town; and if the truth were known, you, and your Sister, here, must Rob me to do it.

He will have good luck that Robs you:

You know my Sister ventures some money at Sea, (that was left her by an Aunt,) and (for me) I am sometimes lucky at play, and I eat and drink, and keep my self handsomly drest with it.

Handsomly, foolishly; to what end are these multi­tudes of Ribbands, this Flaxen Mop of Whores Hair, and this Flanders Lace upon the Shirt; I warrant this Habit cost thirty Pound: now if you do win money, put it to other uses (you foolish young Knave) 30 l. comes to six and thirty shillings a year, according to Statutable use; But thou mightest make twenty Pound a year on't, if thou hadst any braines, and (with such use upon use) what would 30 l. come to in seven years!

But Sir, my Brother and I came to talke with you of other business.

Well, and I have something to say to you, of other business.

Tis concerning Marriage, Sir.

And I intended to speak to you, concerning Marriage.

Ah Father!

Ah Father! what's that for? what? what? you would be at it already, would you? soft and fair young Gentle­woman.

No Sir, my Sister is affraid that your opinion of Marriage will not agree with ours.

Fear not, you shall have no cause of complaint, I shall do well for you both; and (first of all) have you Theo­dore, seen one Isabella, that lyes near this place?

O yes Sir, several times, in her Balcony.

And you?

I have heard of her, Sir.

Well Son, and how do you find that Lady?

She's admirably handsome, I have never seen her equal.

Her face, ha?

Beyond what e're a Lover fancied of his Mistress.

Her shape, is it not well?

Not only faultless, but excellent to a miracle.

Her meen, ha—

Graceful, and admirable.

Her ayer, and her manner—

The most charming in the world; her ayer so full of modesty and wit, her carriage so allureing and gentle, I have never seen the like.

Oh oh, would not this Lady make a pleasant bed-fellow?

It were a happiness beyond all expression, such as 'twere not safe to think on't.

But there is one point to be consider'd, her Portion.

Oh Sir, that (with so fine a Lady) is not conside­rable, not to be mentioned.

Besides Sir, I have heard she has a tollerable for­tune.

Never think of that.

Well, I am glad we agree so well in our opinions of this Lady; for (by these charming qualities) she has so won upon me, that I am resolved forthwith to marry her.

Oh heaven!

What say you?

Are you resolved say you—

Yes, to marry Isabella.

Who you? you?

Yes I, I, I, why, what do you make of me, young Cox-comb?

'Sdeath this has struck me to the heart.

Who cares, go get some Aqua-Vitae, I hope this young Prodigal Ass will hang himself at the news of a young Mother-in-Law—This Daughter, is that which I resolve for my self: now for him, I have provided a grave Matron of about 50, with a great deal of money; and you, I intend to marry to Timothy Squeeze, the rich Scriveners Son, a very thrifty young man.

Heaven, what do I hear!

He's a very pretty young man, and knowes how to make sixty per Cent of his money.

Sir, if you please, I will not marry.

Madam, if you please you shall marry.

Pray pardon me Sir.

Pray pardon me Madam.

You may command me in any thing, but this.

I will command you in this, and to night too.

To night, that shall not be.

That shall be.

No Sir.

Yes Sir.

I'le kill my self, before I marry him.

You shall not kill your self, and you shall marry him; but did ever Father endure such insolence from a Daughter?

Was ever Daughter so severely used by a Fa­ther?

All the world will allow of my choyce.

No man of sense will.

Here comes Bellamour, will you be judg'd by him.

Look you Bellamour, my Daughter disputes with me, which do you think has reason, she or I?

Oh Sir, you without question.

Do you know what we were talking of?

No Sir, but you cannot be in the wrong.

Look you, you are to be Judge, I would marry [Page 14] her to Timothy Squeeze, the rich Scriveners Son this night; and the baggage despises him.

And am I to be Judge?

Ay of this.

Oh heaven!

What say you?

I am of your opinion Sir, in the main, but your Daughter is not wholly in the wrong.

Why, why is Mr Timothy's Person, or Fortune, to be rejected? where can she have a better?

That's true Sir, but she may say, 'tis too rash to re­solve to do it so suddenly; and that she ought to have some time to accommodate her inclinations to him.

Time, come I must take occasion by the fore-lock; his Father (that is very rich, but of mean extraction) will (for the sake of good Allyance) let his Son marry her with­out a Portion.

Nay then, I must say no more, that is a convincing reason, she must submit to that.

What means Bellamour?

I know not what 'tis to her, I am sure 'tis the most confiderable reason in the world to me.

Without doubt Sir, no man can contradict that, but your Daughter may answer you, that Marriage is the most solemn thing in the world, and that which must make her al­ways either happy, or miserable.

Without Portion! mark that—

You have reason Sir, that decides all. But Sir, people will tell you, that the inclination of your Daughter, ought to be a little regarded; and that forcing affections has often ruined the best of Families.

What without Portion?

Nay, there can be no reply to that: 'tis true, there are a great many Fathers that prize the satisfaction of their Daughters, and would never Sacrifice them to interest, but would consult their affections.

But again I say, without Portion.

'Tis true, without Portion is an answer to every thing; and who can resist such reason as vours.

Oh heaven I hear the Dog bark, I am so affraid of this money, I must into the Garden: stay here.

Bellamour you are in the wrong, to talk thus with him.

If I should oppose him Madam, I should ruine our design, and you will do better to feign a consent to what he commands.

But for this sudden Marriage, to night.

Wee'l find means to break it, and make him consent to it.

What can you invent?

Feign some sickness, and desire him to delay't for that.

Physitians will find out that deceit.

Madam, he would scarce be at the charge of one to save his own life, much less yours.

But he has Kindred, that will give him their advice for nothing.

Madam do you believe in Doctors? do you think they know more than Nurs-keepers? I warrant you Madam, counterfeit what distemper you please, they'l find reasons enough to tell you from whence it comes.

Heaven be praised, all's well, there was no body.

Besides Madam, our last recourse shall be to discover our selves, and our affections, and if you can be constant, as I doubt not—

Madam (as I was saying) a Daughter ought not to dispute her Fathers will, or once think whether she likes the man or no, whom he chuses for her; especially where that invincible reason, of without Portion, offers its self.

Well said Bellamour.

Sir, I ask you pardon, that I make so bold with your Daughter.

I am orejoy'd at it, you have done exceeding well.

Sir, I will never fail to urge her with arguments, and especially, that undeniable one, of without Portion.

'Tis very well.

Oh Sir, there's nothing (in this world) so precious as money, not Honour, Birth, Education, Wit, Courage, Vertue, Wisdom, Religion, Loyalty—

Oh there spoke an Oracle! dear Bellamour I could hug thee for this, thou shalt follow, and advise her. But first, give me some little account of this days business, has Sarah the Orange-Wench redeem'd her Thumb-Ring, that I lent her ten shillings upon last week?

No Sir.

'Tis forfeited then, it weighs two and twenty. Has the fellow that cryes old Cloths, redeem'd the new Velvit Coat (which I believe he Stole) or the Oyster-Woman her Red Petticoat with Silver Lace on't? or has the Cobler redeem'd his Pewter that he Pawn'd for money to buy Soles? or has the Country Gentlewoman (that lost her money at play) taken out her Watch, for which she is feign to make excuses to her Husband, and say 'tis a mending?

None of these.

Has the Whetston Whore redeem'd her Mantoplicee, and her Silk-dy'd Petticoat, with Gold and Silver Lace?

No poor soul, she has had ill trading of late.

There is a Bauds Silver Aqua-Vitae Bottie, a Mid­wife's hackny Satin Mantle, with old fashion'd Gold Lace; a Herald Painter's Hears-Cloth, and Velvit Pall; besides (let me see) an Attorneys Clerk Pawn'd a Beaver of his Masters in the Country; there is too, a Porters and a Water-mans Silver Badge, the Fidler's Violin, the Hackny Trumpeter's Brass Trumpet, the Barber's inlayd Razor Case, with Silver heads to his Instruments, are any of these redeem'd to day?

None of 'em Sir.

They are forfeited, to Hell with them, ab inferis nulla redemptio, this has been a happy week Bellamour: two young Sparks have forfeited Morgages this week: they are the sweetest people to deal with, they seldom fail of forfeiting [Page 17] them, and I never fail to take 'em, but prethee go to my Daughter, and advise her.

How happy am I in this servant! well, (if this trade holds) I shall tumble in money; and next to that.

IS Mr. Goldingham at home?

He is in the Garden (where he always is) I'le tell him you are here.

Come Timothy, Cheere up, has't not thou forgot to put on thy little Cuffs, to Comb thy head, and get thy hair pow­der'd.

No no, I have my best Cloaths on too, just as I used to go to Church; but de' hear Sir, I shall be asham'd when Theo­dora comes, de' see, for (on my conscience and soul) I shall never learn how to Suitour a woman.

Take my directions, and I warrant thee.

How did you go to work to Suiter my Mother?

Why, I'le tell thee, when I was a young man, (Oh the happy days we lived in then) I could woe a young Gentlewoman, with as much dexterity, as the Sprucest Gal­lant on 'em all.

I long to hear, before Mrs. Theodora comes.

Why look you, suppose thou wert thy Mother, stand there (and I'le tell you she was as fine a young Lass, as any Aldermans Daughter, (though she was but a Button-makers Daughter) and as well bred too; I am sure it cost her Father ten shillings a month for her learning to Dance, and she play'd most violently upon the Cittern too But stand still, thus I be­gun.

Then forsooth your Servant, said I, wont you please to sit down? here's a Chair, and please you.

I vow this is very well, de' conceive me?

Then thus I went on; pray give me leave to kiss your hand.

O Lord Sir!

I protest and vow, I have a very great affection for you; the very thoughts of you, has often broke my sleep; and made me fetch many a sigh.

Ha, ha, ha, very well I vow.

For you are very handsom (as I am an honest man, and I cannot but love you, an I were to be hang'd for't.

'Tis your goodness more than my desert.

Good lack, to see the luck on't, she made that very answer, I protest.

Oh Gemini, why did she?

Yes, but to go on, said I, I am come to see if you can love such a one as I am, (and I was then as pretty a young Fellow as any in the City) and if you can, said I, I shall be very well content to make you my wife.

Ay but Mrs. Theodora, they say, is most pestilent Coy.

'Tis no matter, be thou bold, and she'l not deny thee.

Ay and I will now you bid me, though I venture my life for't, de' understand me?

Do, stand up to her man, and kiss her, she'l not deny thee, for thou art a very pretty Fellow, though I say't; stand up, let me see, turn thee about, well made too, well thou takest just like me, I was just such another when I was young.

Mr. Squeeze you are welcome.

Thank you good Sir.

And you Mr. Timothy.

Thank you good Sir, (as my Father said before me.)

This is the young man I bring to your Daughter.

Ay Sir, I make bold to come a woing to Mrs. Theodora, de' conceive me, if your worship please.

With all my heart.

An excellent choice, an accomplisht, Rival have I: I should sooner be jealous of a Ballad-singer, or a Pick-pocket.

Bellamour, go call my Daughter.

I will Sir, A curse on him, must she be baited by this Bandog.

While the young people are together, wee'l drink a Cup; I would send for a Pint of white Wine, or half a Pint of Sack for you, but the Vintners do play the Rogues so, and put Horse-flesh, dead Dogs, mens bones, Molossus, Lime, Brim­stone, Stumme, Allom, Sloes, and Arsnick into their Wine— but I'le send for a Cup of wholesome Ale for you.

With all my heart.

There's the sweet youth, he has provided for you.

Now Father stand by me.

This Daughter, is the pretty young man I told you of.

He looks more like a Corn-Cutter than a Lover.

Your servant young Gentlewoman.

Your servant forsooth, I make bold to Salute you, de' see: I vow 'tis the sweetest kiss that ever I had in all my life; you kiss very well Mrs. Theodora, pray let me have another.

Hold Sir, not too fast.

Why look you Father, did I not tell you how 'twould be?

You were a little too forward Son.

Come let's leave the young people, they'l do best together.

Ay I warrant you, they had rather be alone.

D'y' hear Theodora, be civil to him Bellamour!

So now we are alone Mrs Thea, I call you Thea for shortness, de' see? will you please to sit down?

Il'e try now if I can out-do my Father.

Come Mrs. Thea, I profess my Legs are very weary, I have been all this morning dunning for money, at this end of the Town; and I promise you I mind my business as well as e're a young man in the City that wears a head,, but (a deus take 'em) they do so fob me off with Protections here­abouts.

They do ill, to disappoint so fine a Person.

Ah forsooth, you are pleased to say so, but come (now I think on't) pray where's your Maid?

Why do you ask?

If you please to send her to some Tavern, where you have Credit, I'de make bold to send for a Pint of Sack for you, (there I out-do my Father a whole half Pint.)

Then I'le send for a Bottle of white Wine; I have Sugar in my pocket, the Rogues at Tavern's make us pay three pence a paper for it.

A thrifty consideration, but I drink no Wine.

Nay peuh Mrs Thea, you say this now to save me Charges, de' see; but alas I care no more for money than I do for the dirt under my foot, d' you understand me? if I had you at the Pope's Head, I'de give you half a peck of Oysters, I have as good Credit there as ere an Alderman's Son of 'em all, no dispraise: but faith I will send for White-Wine now, you shall not say me nay.

Oh intollerable! I will have none sent for.

Sir, your Father bids me tell you he is sent for to Chatolins, to some young Blades, whom he is to take up

'Tis very well. Come Mrs Thea, pray be not angry, but let us to our business.

Have you any with me?

Yes that I have, and very earnest business too, I'le tell you that.

What is it?

Look you Mrs. Thea, pauca verba, the short and the loug on't is, I have had a very great affection for you, any time these two months, ever since I saw you at Covengarden Church, de' conceive me?

Oh wonderful!

As I am an honest man, you have stuck as close to my heart (all the time,) as a Burr (de' understand me) nay I have scarce slept a quiet night, all that time, for dreaming on you.

'Tis impossible.

Nay feck now 'tis true, whereupon my Father seeing me in this condition, advised me to come to you for cure, de' hear me?

Oh Sir, doubt not but you may command me.

No forsooth pardon me, I shall intreat you.

To do what?

Feck only to love me a little, that's all.

No more but that! how can I chuse?

Ay but will you have me for a husband, de' see? that's the business I come about: if you will, I shall for my part, be very glad to make you my Bed-Fellow, as the say­ing is.

Oh Sir, you deserve one of a greater Beauty and Fortune than I am.

Pshaw what's matter for that, 'tis all one as long as my Father bid me ask you Mrs. Thea, de' conceive me?

Sure this Holiday Fool, ha's never been bred to any thing but throwing at Cocks, or demolishing evil houses on Shrove-Tuesday; or may be, he ha's Rid on a Pageant for a Neptune, or a Sea-god, or perhaps waited at my Lord Mayor's Table upon a Feast day.

What say you to the proposition, ha?

Did you see your Brother Madam?

He's gone out.

A deus take this Fellow for interrupting us.

Theodora.

Heark, I am call'd, farewell.

Nay an I leave you, the King shall know it.

Oh dear Robin, art thou here?

Mrs. Cheatly, what makes you here for heavens sake?

That which makes me go every where; I love to be serviceable to the Nation, in my faculty, I bring people to­gether, and make work for the Parsons, and the Wid-wifes. But where's Mr. Goldingham.

What business can you have with him? of all man­kind.

That which I hope to get by; you know I have no Rents, Industry, and Intrigue must maintain me; but thou art sure not to lose by it, my dear Robin.

And you not to get by it here, I assure you.

You don't know, there are some things within my power, that may touch very nearly.

Why thou mayst sooner hope to get by thy Trade in a Town three years besieged, and almost famished.

I warrant you, I have a way of tickling of 'em as they do Trouts out of their senses, but I must work upon him by degrees.

Why he would not give a shilling to save thy soul, nor eighteen pence for his own; I have heard him wish that that word Give, were blotted out of the English Tongue: you'l put him into Fits, if you but propound it to him. 'Slife here he comes, I must be gone I am sure.

Ah dear Sir, how briskly you look to day, good lack! If I had not been in your house, I protest I should not have known you.

I look well, alas, alas!

I never saw any creature so chang'd in my life, sure you drink nothing but Viper Wine.

Nay you wheadle.

Upon my life, you amaze me, you look so delicate­ly, so fresh, and gay.

Nay but do I? hah.

Sir, you were never so young in your life, I have seen men of five and twenty in white Periwigs, have less youth about them.

But (for all that) I am above six and fifty.

Six and fifty! alas that's nothing, that's the season of a perfect man, you are now in the flower of your Age— it was the time when the Patriarchs you know began to get Children.

That's true, but if I were twenty years younger, 'twould do me no hurt.

You jest Sir, you need no youth, I'le lay my life you will live till you are a hundred years old.

No no, but do you think so really?

Most certainly Sir, you have all the markes of long life; let me see, hold a little: Oh what a sign of life there is upon your forhead! I am sure you'l have four wives more.

—I care not how many wives I have, I love to bury wives much.

But have you such skill in these things?

Ay as much as e're an Almanack-maker, or Cunning-man of 'em all; let me see your hand, Heaven! what a Line of life is here.

How, let me see.

Do you not see how farr that Line goes?

Yes, but what does that import?

A hundred did I say? if you don't live to sixscore, I'le be content to be hang'd, when I am so old my self.

'Tis impossible.

You will live to bury all your Children, Grand-Children, Great-grand-children, and Posterity, to the fift and sixt Generation.

The more I bury, the better; what care I for Posteri­ty, I would be my self the last man of my family.

Yes Sir, as you are the first.

But pray Mrs. Cheatly, how goes our affair?

If it did not go extreamly well, you would not have me in so good a humour. Well on my conscience no woman in England ha's that faculty in Match-making, that I have: there are no two persons, so opposite, that I cannot bring to­gether: (if I had liv'd in that time) I would have been hang'd if I had not Married the Pope to Queen Elizabeth.

But I would not have had that done, that might have spoyl'd the reformation: but tell me?—

Why Sir? I acquainted the Mother with your pro­position, and brought Isabella to the window (as you appoint­ed,) where she survey'd your person, your age, your youth, I mean, your meen and all your motions.

And how lik'd she, ha?

She likes your person infinitely, and her Mother, and she entertained the proposal with a great deal of joy; and Isabella says you are the most Reverend charming old young Gentleman, in all Covengarden.

'Tis her goodness, but in troth that was a little too much: but have you spoke with her Mother about Portion?

Oh shee'l be a vast Fortune, she will be worth above two thousand Pound a year to you (besides her Beauty) which if you would, you might make as much more of, if she would consent.

And (if I can make so much more of her) I am sure I'le make her consent, or I'le strangle her.

But how will she be worth so much besides?

Why first, she ha's the most thrifty Stomach of any woman in Europe; she loves nothing but Sallads, Milk, Cheese, Butter, and Apples, nor does she ever desire sweet meats above Almonds, and Raysins, you need not keep a table fur­nished with varieties, or delicacies for her: Wine she drinks none, this will be worth a thousand Pound a year; then she hates all finery, Lace she detests out of hatred to the French.

She does well, it was a Roguish invention, and he that first invented it, is damn'd.

She hates rich Cabinets, Pictures, rich furnished Clos [...]ets, and costly furniture extreamly, this (with her own thrift in Habits) will amount to above six thousand Pounds; [Page 25] then she has a horrible aversion for Gaming, then Playes she detests.

This is admirable, I am each minute more in love with her.

Then she never gives a farthing to the poor, though she sees 'em starving.

How admirably shall we agree, for I hate the poor as much as she can do.

Then she abominates Singing-Masters, French-Masters, Dancing-Masters, Harpsical-Masters, above measure; now to sum up all these things they will amount to 2450 l. a year, for her life, there's four hundred and fifty Pound above your sum.

Mrs. Cheatly, these things are very good, but they are not real goods, I would have something that I might give an Acquittance for, and say, I say Received per me Hum­phrey Goldingham.

Are not all these excellent qualities real Goods? and I assure you, you may receive them when you please.

These are not Goods and Chattels Mrs. Cheatly; I must touch somthing.

Touch! why, you shall touch her, and touch her all over, and as much as you please, there's a delicate creature to touch, there's a touch for you.

Ay, but I must touch money; there's a delicate thing to touch, there's a touch for you.

Money you shall have too, they have a good Estate in the North, which I have heard them speak of—

That must be seen: But there's one difficulty more; she is young, and I fear will not be brought to love an old man.

Cods me I had like to have forgot that quality of hers, she has the most unconquerable aversion, in the world, for all young men; she was to have been Married t'other day, and broke off the match, because she found the man was not above fifty.

It cannot be, sure.

Upon my word 'tis true, she says the young men of this age, are nothing but brisk, airy, conceited, gay, proud, [Page 26] ignorant, foolish, singing, dancing, Baboones in huge Periwigs, not fit for wives.

It is impossible.

If you did but see her Seals, and the few Pictures she ha's, not of Adonis, Paris, Apollo, Narcissus, or any young Figures, but of Saturne, King Priam, Anchises, Nestor, Methusa­lem, and some of the old Partiarchs, Iohn of the times, and old Parre.

This is incomparable indeed, if I were a young wo­man I should never endure young Fellows; for my part I wonder what they can see in them, to love 'em so.

Ay I wonder what pleasure they can take in 'em, Oh yur fine old man for my money, he's the civilest, quietest Bed-fellow; worth a thousand of these young Fops, that are ever upon the spur, like a Citizen on a Journey.

'Tis your goodness: But canst thou not bring this Isabella to Supper, to night, to my house? I am to give Mr. Squeeze, and his Son a Supper; who shall marry my Daughter immediately, and (if you can bring this Lady) I would kill two Birds with one stone, as that excellent thrifty Proverb says.

Ne're doubt it Sir, I'le bring her after Dinner to see your Daughter, and they may take the ayr in your Coach to­gether, and so come back to Supper.

Prethee go about it instantly.

But Sir—

Nay prethee Mrs. Cheatly go about it, make no de­lays, prethee go now—

One word more.

No more for heaven sake, go now.

I must speak to you.

By no means, go just now about it, now, go quick­ly.

Well, there is nothing to be done with this old Fellow now.

This Cheatly is a rare woman, but I was plaguily affraid she would have asked to borrow money of me, after she had done her story. 'Sdeath what do I hear! the Garden [Page 27] door opens, she's gone in there; I must watch her, and my dear dear money.

What, makes my Father in such hast? I believe he is gone into the Garden; where he goes a hundred times a day: But pray Bellamour, is your man returned, you sent into the North to enquire of your Father?

Madam I expect him to night. But my dearest Theo­dora, since I have your heart, there's nothing else I have within my eye, or thought! let us not think of business, but imploy this happy minute in talking of love.

Here's my Father, to your advice again.

So all's safe in the Garden.

Madam you must obey, and marry him to night, your Father will not delay the making of you happy.

To night, is too sudden Bellamour.

'Tis never too soon to obey your Father Madam.

Admirably well said, dear Bellamour, never was man so happy in a servant! Come into the next Room Daughter; I warrant you, my man and I will soon convince you.

Let me beg you will defer it Sir.

I will have it despatch'd to night, come along.

That Theodore should be such a Villain, to disappoint us.

I wonder he should have no more care of his own soul, than to break his word with honest Fellows.

I believe he knows of my being here; and has not the face to see me (after some inconstancy, I have taken him in lately.)

That she should pretend to an interest in him, Mr. Rant! but if every body that has injoyd her should be con­stant to her, (as she calls it) she would have an Army of Lovers.

God-a-mercy Mrs. Ioyce, I'le drink thy health for that; here boy give me a Glass.

A pox on this thimble, give me such a Glass as your Noncon­forming [Page 28] Parson drinks in, after labouring at a Conventicle; as big as King Iohns Cup at Lyn, or Iohn Calvins at Geneva: That is fit for nothing but to wear in a mans Bandstring (as your Citizens do Rings.)

Here's one will fit you Sir.

Fill it, and strike it.

Here's thy health in a brimmer, Hazard have at thee.

I'le do thee reason, dear Rogue, an 'twere a Pulpit full of Burgundy; I love such honest Fellows, that let drinking and wenching go hand in hand.

Faith they are such sweet sociable sinnes, 'tis pitty they should ever be parted.

Come boy, my Glass.

But where's the Fiddlers you promised us?

How now Gentlemen, what so forward already? Ladies your servant.

You see Theodore we are not wanting, we provide you good Company; but I am sorry you came not to Dinner.

You see Mr. Theodore what I venture for your com­pany; to undergo the Scandal of these Gentlemen.

No Scandal I hope Mrs. Lettice! for women of your Tribe (like Fanaticks) are above Ordinances.

Mr. Theodore, you are very unkind of late, one can never see you: But you see I can venture to be ruin'd with my Alderman to see you; but not a word of this.

Fear it not, I am as much affraid of the Scandal as you are.

Come Theodore, thou wantest two or three Beer-Glasses; Is it not better to drink, and be free with these glorious Harlots, than to crouch to a foolish simpering Lady that's honest?

Thou art like a dry-foot-Dog, that (out of a whole Heard of Deer) singles out one, whose sent he only followes, and tires himself to catch that, when he might have twenty in the mean time.

Gentlemen! the Devil is much obliged to you, you are his great Champions; and defend Whoreing with as good arguments as any of his controversial Divines about the Town: But all this will not make me think ill of an honest woman.

I tell you there is not a woman in the world, that's honest at all times, and upon all occasions.

What not thy Mother, or thy Sister?

No gad, if they were, I would disown them, they had none of my blood in 'em.

Theodore let me advise thee not to speak contemp­tibly of Sons of Punks, for (if thou dost) Gad thou wilt raise a world of enemies.

I'le assure you, I have a better opinion of the Sex than what ill company, and your leud lives, have given you.

Ay pox on't, thou art not compos mentis, thou art in love; but here's a couple of remedies for that Disease; which (if thou dost not nip in the bud) will prove more dangerous than three Claps.

I hope it's nothing but some fumes of the Spleen, that make him base company (for the present:) I hope (with these Ladies assistance) and a Bottle or two of Burgundy, to set them right yet.

I am Mr. Theodore's humble servant, he shall want no assistance I can give him.

Nor will I be deficient in any thing to serve him.

Alas Madam, he does not ask your service, nor would it do him much good.

Goodlack Mrs. Lettice, you are so exalted by the bounty of Mr. Squeeze the Scrivener, and twenty or thirty more, that (unknown to him) Club with him.

Twenty or thirty, thou insolent creature; did you learn no better manners of your Alderman?

Hold Ladies, here are the Fiddlers.

Let them reconcile your quarrel. Come in youths.

Come Gentlemen you shall not be merry without me, I will participate.

Who is this thou hast brought with thee Mrs. Cheatly?

A pretty young Girle, which I am to marry to an old Prebend; but mum for that.

Boy give me a mighty Glass of Burgundy: Theodore here's thy Mistress's health; Hazard, to you, Fidlers play a health.

You are very brisk, but I shall tame you, I war­rant you.

Come Ladies, faith you shall not scape, wee'l warm ye first with Wine, and then with a Dance; Mrs. Cheatly.

I'le pledge you Sir, but with allowance

With all my heart, take your liberty.

Mrs. Ioyce, Mr. Theodore's Mistress.

With all my heart Madam Cheatly.

There's one in this Room, perhaps is as nearly con cerned in it, as any body.

For all that you know Mrs. Ioyce, I vow Mr. Theo­dore, her confidence makes me asham'd of her.

Alas poor modesty, fa la la.

If you will have any singing, I'le sing you a little Countrey Song shall stirr up these Girles more than your Fiddles and Voyces can do.

Prethee do Cheatly.

Really Madam Cheatly 'tis a pretty Song.

'Tis a little too wanton, that's the fault on't.

Nay, it cannot be too much of that; how dost like it Theodore?

Pox on't, there's no Wit in't.

Don't all your greatest Wits make Songs without any Wit at all in 'em, that take extreamly?

Come Theodore take out they woman; wee'l bounce their bodies in a Dance.

Is Robin here? he Dances well, (with his Master's leave) he shall be my partner.

With all my heart, but what news Robin?

Mr. Squeeze the Scrivener Sir will come to you, and bring the Gentleman that will lend the money.

Squeeze does not know me.

No Sir, I told him it was a young Gentleman in whom he must be satisfied, when he knew his name.

Come Theodore, I bar all business now.

Come Gentlemen I'le be as Idle for a while as the best of you, strike up.

Gentlemen by your leave, is my Farher here among ye?

Pox of this Rascal, knock him on the head.

Hold Rant, who is your Father?

Mr. Squeeze the Scrivener, de' understand me? Lord! that Gentleman needed not have been so angry, my Father is a Livery-man, de' see, I am no such contemptible person, I promise you.

Be civil to him, he has the Countenance of an excellent Buble.

I warrant thee, I'le make much of him; Sir I hope you'l forgive my ignorance of your person; had I known you, I should not have been so unmannerly.

Nay, 'las I'le be friends with you, for my part with all my heart; but my Father was sent for to this house, to some Gallants that wanted money: and by the noise and Ranting you kept here, de' understand me, I thought you had been the men.

We expect him here every minute.

Now will you brace of Knaves Cheat this fool.

If he scapes us one way or other, I'le forswear Caterdeus-ace, and smooth Box, as long as I live.

Heaven! if Mr. Squeeze finds me here I shall be ruin'd for ever.

Pray lets withdraw into another Room more private.

Go all into another Room, and I'le come to you suddenly; I will but speak one word with my man.

Come on Ladies: Come Sir we must engage you till your Father comes.

Sir your servant, I don't care if I spend my Pint with you; and it be a Quart, I have money enough, de' see?

And shall have little enough, de' see, before we leave you.

Come Robin, is there any hopes of procuring the three hundred Pound?

Yes Sir, you may have the money upon some few conditions; and I (seeing you could not have it upon other termes) told him you must have the money upon any con­dition.

So I must, but what are they?

I'le read 'em to you Sir, I have 'em here in writing; first, you must engage some reversion of Land for security.

That's reasonable.

Item Mr. Squeeze will have 30 l. for Broakerage, for he but procures it.

Oh damn'd Iew!

Have patience Sir, you shall hear more: Item the Gentleman that Lends it, will not in conscience take above 6 in the hundred; but he will have a Present of 30 l. for a pair of Candlesticks.

What cursed exaction's this!

Item he will have you take the greatest part of it in Goods.

A curse on him, what Moor or wild Arab is this?

Hold Sir, Imprimis a fine new Razor-Case, with Razors, and every thing suitable; the Case in-layd with Silver, and all the Instruments with Silver Heads, very fit for your man to learn to shave by.

Death and Hell! what's this?

Item A Bolonia Lute, a Roman-Arch Lute, 2 Gittars, a Cremona Violin, 1 Lyra Viol, 1 Viol de Gambo and a Trump-Marin, very fit for you, if you be a lover of Musick; Item a very neat Chess-Board, and a pair of Tables, very good to pass away the time with.

What abominable Villains are these?

Item 15 large Pewter Dishes, 2 Dozen of Pewter Plates, two Brass Pots and a Kettle, very useful for you a­gainst you keep house. Item a Furnace of Brick, with the Cornues, and Recipients, very fit for you, if you be curious in Distilling. Item 1 Scru'd Pistol, 3 Muskets, 1 Back, Brest, Head-Piece and Gauntlet, and 5 Swords; these things are valu'd at 160 l.

What Inhuman bloody Rogues are these? I should not have above 80 l. of all this money: Heaven what shall I do! money I must, and will have; though by all the extre­mities in the world.

But do you think there is no danger?

None at all, he says his Father is so well known, that no man will question him: Besides he is so pressed for money, that hee'l undergo what ever you can put upon him.

That's very well.

Besides, hee'l go to the ensurance Office, and ensure his own life and his Fathers death, as you know they will ensure any thing.

That's well again.

'Sdeath who's here, my Father? I am betrayd by this Rogue.

Oh Sir, your servant, this is the young Gentleman Mr. Goldingham that wants the money.

Oh Heaven, my Son! I am amaz'd.

Is it his Son? this is lucky, above my wishes,

he will disinherit him; and my Son will have a Portion then, a large one with his Daughter.

You Rascal, did you betray me? I'le cut your throat you Dog.

I betray you! heaven forbid it.

Oh you Villain, is it you that abandon your self to these wicked extremities?

Is it you Sir that are guilty of these abominable extortions?

Is it you that would ruin your self by your debau­chery? and borrow money upon such conditions?

Is it you Sir that seek to enrich your self by the Ruin of people, in lending money upon such shameful con­ditions?

Dare you appear before me after this?

Dare you appear before the world after this?

Have you no shame in you, you debauched Villain! to spend thus impiously, what I have sweat for; to make a­way the reversion of your Estate, upon such dishonorable conditions?

Do not you blush to dishonour your Name, and [Page 35] Family, by the most cruel exaction, and unheard of subtleties, that the most infamous of Usurers, nay Iews themselves could ne're invent.

Are you such a borrower?

Are you such a lender?

Come along Mr. Squeeze, I cannot endure the sight of this Villain any longer.

So, my affairs are in a very good posture, I am disappointed of money, and undone with my Father, if I can­not find out a way to bring my selfe off.

Make him believe, that it was for another you in­quired for the money; and knowing that Squeeze dealt with your Father (which I am sure you ne're suspected till now) that you intended it for your Father's advantage.

Wee'l think on't, and for Squeeze, I hope my friends in the next Room will Revenge me to the full upon his Son; I'le into 'em, and set them on'.

SIR, I have at length broke loose by force from my Company, to wait on you; my Sister has told the honour you have done her, and me.

Sir I humbly beg your pardon for not first making my address to you: My long absence had made me a stranger to all the Town, and by that means to your Character; had [Page 36] I known you to be a man of that honour I find you, I should not have gone so indirect a way.

Sir I am happy that (any way) this favour can be conferred by a person of your worth upon my Sister; and so much honour on my selfe; and therefore 'tis my interest, as well as inclination, to desire of you that all Names may be layd by between us too, but that of Brother.

It is a Name that since you are pleased to honour me with it, shall not be forgotten, or ungratefully own'd while I live.

Dear Brother, let me embrace you.

Let this eternally bind us, my dearest Brother.

I am extreamly glad you have prevailed so upon my Fathers opinion, since it may be of great use, as well to your own affairs, as to mine.

Do not distinguish our interests, for yours is now be­come mine.

I am extreamly oblig'd to you for your kindness, and I have now occasion to use you in a business of my own; I know you will excuse my freedom.

There's nothing you can ever do to me, can need an excuse; nor is there any thing you can ask of me, which I can deny.

I doubt not but my Father has e're this told you of his anger against me.

He has, and I am very sorry for it, but I hope to serve you in this affair.

I can put you in a way to do it, as thus, I'le tell you immediately.

Oh Mr. Theodore, your friends are very angry with you for leaving of 'em; but you Coxcomb young Squeeze is as drunk as a Bully, and so sweet upon Mrs. Ioyce (who is the only woman I have left with them) that there is no stav­ing him off her: She perswaded him to play with Hazard at Backgammon, and he ha's already lost his Edward shillings that he kept for Shovel-board, and was pulling out broad pieces (that have not seen the Sun these many years) when I came away.

I am heartily glad on't, I am sure the Rogues have no more mercy than a Bayliff with an execution in his pocket; but prethee what brings you hither? does my Father go astray towards the flesh?

No no, I come to borrow money of him upon Security; good enough, as you shall find to your cost.

I'le send him to you, come my dear Brother.

I wait on you.

If I be not reveng'd of Theodore, for using my Daughter unkindly, I have lost my cunning; I am sure there can be no Instrument of it so certain, as a Mother-in-Law.

—Dear Mrs. Cheatly! were not you discourag'd enough last time, but you must venture again hither?

I'le never give him over till I prevail upon him.

It is impossible, you'l sooner perswade a profest Iew to Swines flesh and Images, than him to parting with money.

Distrust not my art.

I heartily wish it might prevail, though I despaire on't, for (to say truth) Mrs. Cheatly I have need at present for a great deal of love, not forgetting a little money, from you.

Thou shalt want neither, as long as I can help thee; here's somthing, come to my house at night, and thou shalt have more.

Thank you dear Mistriss, it comes seasonably— Though loving such a one as she deserves very well; yet this is the freest Titt that ever had inclination to mankind.

S'death you Rogue, are you about my house? begon Rascal.

Call me Rascal before my Mistriss? I could find in my honour to beat him for an old Sink-cater.

Why do you use Robin so unkindly? he's a pretty ingenious young man.

Hang him Rascal! But prethee how goes our business on?

As you can wish: she says she sawy ou even now [Page 38] walk under her Window, and made me the pleasantest de­scription, and is so taken with you! She says you are of a fit Age and Beard for her, and infinitely admires the Gravity and Decency of your Habit

Does she like me, say you?

To admiration: Pray Sir turn you; just that deli­cate shape, that convenient height that she describ'd! Pray let me see you walk: just that free and janty meen, that very easie and unconstrained motion which she describ'd.

It is strange she should take so much notice of me in so short a time, hah.

She says you look as if you had no kind of in­firmity.

I have none very great, (thank heaven) I have only a defluction that troubles me sometimes.

Oh you are ne're the worse for that Rheume; you have an admirable grace, a good air and meen in Cough­ing; it becomes no man in Europe so well as you.

No no, you jest, you are a wag; but will Isabella come to see my Daughter?

Yes Sir, I am to go and wait on her hither im­mediately.

Dear Mrs. Cheatly you oblige me infinitly.

I oblige her of all things in the world.

But Sir, I have an humble Petition to you.

What the Devil says she?

I am just now at the point of being cast in a Suit, for want of a little money to Fee my Lawyers with; you may if you please easily supply me, you cannot

imagine what joy she had when I told her I would wait on her to your house; you cannot believe what pleasure shee'l have to see you.

Me, alas! alas!

Upon my word Sir, this Suit is of that consequence to me, that I shall be ruin'd, if I lose it;

and a little assistance from you will restore my business again; Oh! if you could but have seen what

transport she was in, when I was speaking of you, what joy [Page 39] shin'd through her eyes, when I repeated your excellent qua­lities to her: in fine, I have made her very impatient till this Marriage be concluded.

You have done me the greatest pleasure imaginable, and I owe all the kindness in the world to you.

Sir since it is so, I beg of you that you will afford me the small supply which I demand.

Well, adieu, I'le go see all things prepar'd for her re­ception in time.

I assure you, you could never supply me in so great an exigence.

Well, I'le see my Coach and Horses put in order, for ye to take the air.

I should not importune you, if I had not the great­est necessity in the world.

Let me know what she and you love best, that I may bespeak it to Supper.

I beg of you, do not refuse me; you cannot ima­gine the pleasure a little sum of money would do me.

Well, I must go see that Supper be ready in good time, for fear ye should be sick, if ye eat too late.

Pray consider my condition—

I warrant ye you shall have Supper ready early enough, I'le bespeak it instantly: Farewel.

This is the most obdurate, inhuman old Fellow; that are yet ventur'd a soul to the Devil for money.

What, you have succeeded just as I expected.

A curse on him, he was prepar'd and fortified a­gainst all my Attaques

I tell you, you will sooner perswade Quakers to con­form, and wear the Surplice; or Bauds to become Nuns; than him to part with any money.

I'le bait him once with the sight of this Lady here; and if that does not mollifie him, I can soon bring her over to another that shall bid high enough for her.

This Trafficking for Maiden-Heads is an exc [...]llent [Page 40] Profession; but they are very dear, for their Rarity.

But I think I must wholly leave of Trading about Marriages, the Market runs higher at present t'other way.

Faith then, its the wisest course.

I'le consider on't, but come you shall usher me to the Lady I speak of.

Allons.

On my conscience and soul you Cog, de' see? look on the Motto o'th' Tables, Play fair and swear not, de' hear me?

On my honour Sir.

A Devil take your honour for me, de' see? that's all your word at this end of the Town; de' conceive me? but for all that, one can't trust a man of ye: Here it goes Size-ace, Hazard hold out.

Did ever man see the like! on my conscience and soul you deal with the Devil, de' mark me? Mrs. Ioyce, let me have but one kiss, de' conceive me, and I shall win the Game fack.

Nay fie Mr. Timothy.

Nay ne're offer to resist, de' see? for would I might ne're stir if I han't it, if I set upon't; Come Come.

You are but a rude person, let me tell you that.

I told you I'de have it, I faith; now Sir I am for you.

Prethee Ioyce be not so coy to this young Fool, he may be of great advantage to us all, and especially to thee.

I hope he might use more Courtship to a person of my quality, there is some difference sure.

Prethee let there be none, I am sure you will not repent it. Mr. Timothy, here's the Ladies health in a brimmer.

I'le pledge you an't were a Peck (six and three) for would I might ne're go home alive if she be not one of the Prettiest Gentlewomen I ever saw in my life (Sink-Duce) Come drink it off.

'Tis off, and there's a brimmer for you.

Where are the Fiddles? I'le vow and swear I will not drink without Fiddles.

They are drinking in the next Room, Boy, call 'em in.

Twelve, there's, a Back-Gammon, the Gold is my own.

A duce tak't, I have lost all, as I am an honest man, on my conscience you have made a League; I make no more of Mr. Selware's Journey-man next Door to us, I give him one in five.

If you want any money, you shall have what you will of mee; but drink the health first.

Come on, Musicianers, strike up, Hey: Here forsooth, here's your health; and would I might ne're go out of this place, if I would not drink it sooner than my Sisters, or my Mothers, if she were alive: Ha ha,

this is the Prettiest way of drinking I vow; it incourages us, as Drums and Trumpets do, when we let off our Guns at a Muster. Come Hey, what care I for losses, my Father ha's money enough, de' see? Mrs. Ioyce, with your Cozens leave, I make bold to love you with all my heart.

I am oblig'd to you really, but I know not how to return it.

O your love! I warrant you, you know well enough if you would; well to morrow we show at Hide-Park, and (if I know your Lodging) I'le give you a Gun as I come back, and steal a Bottle of Sack, and the Tip of a Neats-Tongue, and bring you, I tell you that.

Nay prethee Hazard give an honest account, don't sink for shame.

Upon my honour; he lost no more, what dost take me for a Cheat?

Come Gentlemen you don't drink, give me a Glass, here's my Mistriss's health; I make bold to call you so, de' see?

O your servant.

Come Gentlemen, an't I pure Company now? strike [Page 42] up Musicianers, Hey; Gad you think we Citizens are

Good for nothing, de' conceive me? but there's a knot of us, of about sixteen or eighteen, if we get together, can be as merry, as the best of you; we can i faith, and sing, a Boat, a Boat, or herer's a health to his Majesty, with a fa la la la lero; and Roar gallantly Mrs. Ioyce.

Methinks you are as Pretty a Spark as any about the Town.

I think so fack, I'le scorn any of 'em should out-do me if I set upon it. Hey!

What, have you hurt your self?

'Pshaw, not at all, fa la la lero, come

Mrs. Ioyce, wee'l have a Song faik now; Violin men, (I dare not call 'em Fiddlers, for fear they should be angry) sing us a Catch; Oh I have seen one of these Act the Coun­trey man, and Simkin in the Chest rarely; and you may talk of your Playes, but give me such Pretty harmless Drolls for my money.

Well, you are a merry man.

I'le be as merry as the best, hang losses, Hey, Hey, strike up, fa la la la la lero.

Let me embrace you, dear Mr. Timothy; well he's admirable company Mrs. Ioyce.

Oh! am I so? Sing a Catch you Rogues, or I'le break your heads; give me a Glass; here Adversary, here's to you.

A pox on him, hee'l be too drunk.

An admirable Song Mrs. Ioyce, thank you honest friends: I have heard these men sing gallantly before my Lord Mayor; Diseases and Troubles are ne're, &c.

Come will you take Revenge on Hazard, here's twenty Pound if you will.

Hang revenge fack, he's a very honest Gentlemen; besides I have in my Fob 20. l. in broad Gold, I did not tell you of.

Is not that good news Hazard?

Come Mrs. Ioyce lets sing and be merry a bitt; Dis­eases and Troubles, &c. Hey.

Mrs. Ioyce come to Bed: Come I say quickly, I am in hast, come away.

So now you have done well, this Rogue has 20. l. about him; and you have made him so drunk, he cannot lose it to us.

Lets carry him into another Room to sleep, and pick his Pocket; gad it's all one.

No pox, our way is a little more honourable.

I have had excellent company of you to day Gentle­men.

I know thou hast goodness enough to pardon it; but if my design succeeds, you shall have cause to thank me; I will watch this Fellow, as Bacon did his Brazen Head; and (if I do not marry him to thee) I'le be bound never to Cheat the Son of a Citizen again.

Flatter not your self, 'tis impossible.

Ne're doubt him, you know not his Art; but whilest he watches him, I'le wait on you to my Lodging; whither he shall bring Timothy as soon as he wakes.

Come on, your servant Mr. Rant.

Your servant sweet Mrs. Ioyce. Mr. Timothy wake a little.

I'le not wake for my Lord Mayor, the Aldermen, and all the Common Council, de' see?

Here waiter, help to carry him into the next Room.

But it is really, as Bellamour tells me, that you would procure the money for another?

Upon my word Sir, the young Gentleman will give you a meeting to morrow morning.

'Tis somewhat better, but why did you keep such scurvy Prodigal company?

I did it only to draw him in, and get money of him.

That's very well. Now Son I have something else to say to you; the Lady which I intend for your Mother-in-Law, will be here instantly; and I charge you betray not the least dislike of any thing in your Countenance, but use her with all the respect imaginable.

I can't promise you to be glad of the coming of a Mother-in-Law; but I am sure I will not mislike her you have Chosen.

Nor you Daughter

I have never given you occasion to suspect so ill a thing of mee.

'Sdeath! what Instrument of the Devil has he made use of, to seduce Isabella hither?

Leave me now, and send in all my servants.

Here, where are you all, mind all your Charges. Oldwoman first, to you it belongs to make every thing clean; but do you here, do not Rub my Moveables too hard, to wear them out; if you do, I shall stop your Wages.

Hey, what's to do now?

You Roger take all the Bottles and Glasses, and rince them; and take Charge of 'em, if there be one lost or broke, I'le bate it out of your Wages, Sirrah.

That I am sure of.

Then do you William fill the drink; but, never but when they are dry, and let 'em call sor't twice, or thrice, pretend to be a little thick of Hearing; here are a company of Roguish Lackey's about the Town, that are always offer­ing [Page 45] the Glass, and provoking people to drink, and kill them­selves, I will have no such Rogues about me.

I warrant you Sir, I'le look to the Drink.

Then look you have your best Cloathe's on when the people come.

I have my best, and all I have on, but they are so horribly greasie before, that they are fit for nothing but to give to a Soapboyler, or Kitchin-stuff-woman.

And mine are so full of holes behind, as if I had a Volley of Musket-Bullets in my Posteriors.

You foolish Knaves, cannot you Sirrah take your Hat, and hold it before you to hide the Grease? And do you Sirrah turn your Face always to the people, to hide those holes behind; and when you are sent for any thing, go back­ward, thus you Rascal. Now to you Iames.

Would you speak to me as your Cook, or Coach­man? for you know I serve in both Offices.

As my Cook.

Good Sir hold a little.

What a Devil is this Ceremony for? you Rascal.

Good Sir have a little patience: Now speak, I am ready.

Oh Bellamour come and assist me; Iames, I am to give a Supper to night.

The most miraculous thing I ever heard of!

Can you make us good Cheer?

Yes, if you will let me have a great deal of money.

Money! you Rascal you, have ye nothing to say but money; nothing in your mouth but money, money, money?

I never heard so impertinent an answer, every fool can do that; but you must make a good entertainment with a little money.

Good Mr. Steward, I would you would teach me that secret.

Peace Sirrah, and tell me what we must have.

There's your Fac-totum, let him till you.

Answer me, or I'le break your head.

Hold Sir, I will, how many will there be?

Ten in all, but provide enough but for eight.

Why you must have, first, two great Soupes made of Veal, Ducks, Chickens, Coxcombs, Sweet-Breads, Mushromes, Palates, Forced-meat, Artichoak-bottoms.—

'Sdeath you Rogue, you would Feast all the Town.

Then Fricasees, Ragousts, a huge Dish (with all sorts of Fowles) as Duck, Teal—

Hold your Tongue you Rogue, you would undoe me.

Then Plover, Dotril—

Hold you Rogue.

Snipes, Ruffs, Woodcocks.

Hold you Dog, he puts me into a cold sweat.

Partridges, Gnats, Godwits.

Will the Rogue never have done?

Pheasants, Heath-Pouts, Black-Cocks, Quails, Rails, Larks, &c.

What do you intend to cramm all the Town? my Master does not invite people, to Murder 'em with eating.

But he would not starve 'em sure.

People should eat to live, not live to eat; as the Proverb says.

O dear Bellamour, let me Embrace thee for that word, he was a great man that said that; I will have that Sentence Engraven in Great Letters over my Hall Chimney.

Ne're trouble him Sir, I'le take care of the Supper.

Pray do Sir, with a little money, we shall see what 'twill be.

But now for my Coach.

Hold good Sir, good Sir hold a little: Now Sir, what were you saying of your Coach?

Let it be clean'd, and the Horses Harnessed.

Horses Sir, why they are in that poor Condition, [Page 47] that a man must stretch devillishly to call 'em Horses; they are but the Shadows or Ghosts of Horses.

Can they be sick and do nothing?

Yes Sir, you make 'em keep such severe Lents, they eat no more than Chamelions; I look every day when they should depart this life: For my part, it grieves my heart, for I have a tender love and respect for my Horses; and in­deed a man should not be so hard hearted, or unnatural, not to pitty his Neighbour in distress.

The Journey will not be far.

I have not the Courage to put 'em in; how can they draw the Coach, that cannot draw their Legs after them.

Sir, I'le engage one to drive 'em.

I had rather they should die under any bodies hands than mine; but you have a mighty necessary man here to your Superintendent.

Peace you unmannerly Rascal.

I'le about these things instantly.

Do good Bellamour.

Sir, I cannot endure these Flatterers, and Pickthanks, I speak my mind plainly; and it made me mad to hear him say things to your Face, of you, that none of all mankind besides will say.

Why, what does the world say of me?

Pardon me Sir, you'l be angry if I tell you.

On the contrary, it will please me infinitely to see that plain dealing in you, let the world say what they will.

Truly I must deal plainly with one I love, and (next to my Horses) you are the person in the world, that I have the greatest respect for.

Come speak.

Why Sir, in plain honest sincerity of heart, I tell you in short, no man gives one good word of you; one says you never fail to pick Quarrels with your Servants at Quar­ter day, that you may turn 'em away without their Wages, that you have been taken Robbing of your own Horses of their Provender: That (when you go by water to your house at Putney) you take a Sculler, and make him bate half his Fair, [Page 48] for your helping him to Row; in short, you would Rob, Pick, Pockets, Murder, betray your Countrey, and do any Villany in the world for money; your Name is never used without Cursing, and calling you Villain, Wretch, Knave, common Barreter, Oppressor, Horse-Leech.

You are a Rogue, a Son of a Whore, a Dog, a Rascal.

I was affraid this would be the end on't, a pox on plain dealing for me; did you not command me to tell you?

I'le teach you how to speak Rogue another time.

Well, I see it is not safe for any man to be honest in this Age.

How now Mr. Iames, your plain dealing is rewarded very ill.

'Sdeath do you make sport at my beating? Laugh at your own, when you have one.

Nay prethee be not passionate.

He intreats me, I'le huff a little and try

if he fears me: Do you know Sir that I cannot endure to be laught at? and that I will make you laugh in another fashion.

Nay softly Iames, if you please.

No Sir, it does not please me.

Nay good Iames.

You are a very impertinent Fellow.

Have patience a little.

I will have none; if I take a Cudgel, I will so Chastise you.

How Rascal a Cudgel, did you say a Cudgel?

No no no Sir, alas I have no occasion for one, not I.

Do you think I am to be beaten Sirrah?

Alas Sir not I, I have better thoughts of you.

Are you not a Son of a Whore?

Yes Sir, any thing in the world, what you please, I am a Son of a Whore Sir, a Son of a damn'd Whore.

Do you know me Rascal?

O Lord Sir, I honour you abundantly.

Did you say you would Cudgel me?

I was in jesting, I did but Droll upon my honour.

And I shall beat you in jesting.

Hold, hold, for heaven's sake.

Remember Sirrah, against another time, you are a very scurvy Railleur.

A pox on all sincerity, and plain dealing for me, I have had a couple of good substantial beatings; but if I be not reveng'd on this domineering Fellow, I will give Dogs leave to piss upon me.

Do you know whether your Master be within?

A pox on't, I know but too well.

Pray tell him, we are here.

But (that I am bound to obey my Mother) you should never have made me run my selfe into the danger of seeing this old man, for (though his Daughter, whom I come to wait on, I hear is an excellent person, yet) I strangely apprehend the trouble of seeing him.

Consult your Interest Madam, he's very rich, and very old, and will leave you a great deal of money, that may qualifie you to marry any young Gentleman you please, here­after.

But I have a natural antipathy to old men, as some have to Cats.

This old man will not have the Impudence to trouble your Ladyship above a year, after you are Married to him.

I shall never wait for that time, to make my self happy; one year of such punishment would out-weigh all the pleasure, I could have all my life after.

I find the young Brisk Gentlemen you spoke of yesterday is still in your head.

He is I confess, and in my heart too, and I think nothing will e're get him out; he keep's such a stir there, he will never let me rest a minute.

Do you know who 'tis Madam?

No, but I have often seen him walking by my Lodging, and perpetually looking up at the Balcony, either upon me when I was there, or watching for my coming thither; and by his look, and air, I guess all is not well with him neither; I hope he's in the same condition with my selfe.

Here comes the old Gentleman.

What Spectacle's that?

God save you Lady, I am obliged to you for the honour you do my poor house, which (if you can love an old man,) know Lady I am above six and fifty, and it shall be yours: What a devil Mrs. Cheatly! she answers nothing, nor shews any kind of pleasure at the sight of me.

O Sir! she's surprised extreamly; besides, Maids endeavour what they can to hide their affections; she is so full of joy, she cannot speak to you.

That's something indeed.

What a prodigious, ridiculous old Fellow is this?

What says my fair one?

That you are a most admirable person.

Fair Lady, you do me too much honour.

What an abominable, odious old Fellow's this!

I am infinitely obliged Madam, for your good opini­on of me: Here's my Daughter Madam.

Madam, I have too long delay'd waiting on you, but I hope you will pardon it.

Madam, you do what I ought to have done; 'Twas on my part, to have prevented you.

Here's my Son comes to kiss your hand.

Oh Mrs. Cheatly! what accident's this? This is the young Gentleman I spoke of.

This is wonderful.

I see you are a little amazed to see me have such lusty Children, but I will soon be rid of them both.

Madam, this is an adventure which I did not [Page 51] expect; nor was I ever in my life so surprised, as when my Father told me his design.

Sir, I am not less surprised then you, I assure you, I was not at all prepar'd for what I see now.

'Tis true, Madam, my Father cannot in the world make so fair a Choice, and I am infinitely happy to see you here; but you are the person in the world, I would not have my Mother-in-Law; that would break my heart: Madam, I know you have apprehension enough to take what I say in the right sence, and not be offended at it.

You coxcomb, what an impertinent, silly complement is this! you must be making confessions, must you?

Sir, we are so much upon even terms, that you are the man in the world, whom I would not have my Son-in-Law; and (if I were not brought here by an absolute power,) I should have given you no shadow of suspition.

She is in the right, your complement deserves no better return; I know you would anger her: I beg you Madam to forgive my Son's impertinence, he's a young Sot, that does not understand himself.

What he said, was so far from offending me, that it pleased me extreamly to hear him so frankly declare his opinion, and (if he had spoke in any other manner) I should have esteemed him less.

You have a great deal of goodness to forgive his faults; in time hee'l be wiser, and change his opinion.

Sir, I can never be capable of changing, and Madam, I beg of you to believe me.

'Sdeath what extravagance is this?

Brother, you will provoke him too much.

'Sdeath Sir, would you have me lye?

Again, I say change the discourse, you Sot.

Well Sir, since you command me to speak in a­nother fashion, give me leave Madam to put my self in my Fathers place; and now Madam, I protest to you I never yet saw so charming a creature: This is the happiest minute of my life, indeed my life began but from the time I saw you; the Name of your husband, is an honour, which I would prefer [Page 52] to the Titles of all the Princes upon Earth; and there is no­thing which I would not dare to do, for so glorious a con­quest.

Softly, hold a little.

'Tis a complement I make for you to this Lady.

I have a Tongue to express my selfe, I need no ad­vocate.

I am not so dull of apprehension not to know for whom that complement was intended, and am glad to find it.

Sir, if you please let us take the air, I hear your Coach at the door.

Oh is it? but I am sorry you will make such hast, I have not time to prepare you a Collation before you go.

Sir, I foresaw that, and provided beforehand upon your account, a great Dish of China Oranges, Cittrons, all sorts of Sweet-meats, Limonades, Sherbets, and all sorts of Wines.

Villain, who gave you commission to do this.

Pardon me Sir, if there be not enough, I know this Lady has goodness enough to excuse it; besides I can soon have more.

Is the Sot mad?

Madam did you ever see a finer Stone, than that Diamond upon my Father's finger?

It sparkles delicately.

What means the Rascal.

It is a delicate clear Stone indeed.

No Madam, no returning of it, it is in too fair hands already, it is a Present, my Father makes to you Madam.

Who I?

Is it not true, that you would have this Lady keep the Ring?

What do you mean you Villain, are you mad?

Madam, he desires you, by me, that you would please to accept of it.

The fear, she will take it, distracts me.

Pardon me Sir, I use not to receive Presents.

Madam, I am sure my Father will never receive it.

Oh this lying Rascal! you are mistaken.

Look you Madam, your Refusal has made him stark distracted.

O this damn'd Villain!

Do you not see how he frets, and fumes? for heaven's sake Madam receive it.

Well Sir, (rather than offend you Father,) I will keep it.

'Sdeath I am undone, but there is no remedy. Madam, I thank you for the favour you do me. But would they were all hang'd, and I had my Ring again.

Sir, there's one to speak with you.

I am engag'd, I cannot come.

He has brought you money.

Oh has he, I ask your Pardon Madam: Remember to go backward Will.

You have infinitely provoked my Father, and yet I could not but be pleased with it.

I had a violent temptation upon me, that I could not resist Madan; will you do us the honour to take part of this Collation.

Your humble servant Sir.

Come Madam.

I attend your Ladyship.

MAdam, you are one of the most hard hearted Ladies that ever triumphed over man.

And you the most violent Lover, that ever attaqued a woman; but this storme of love, is too great to last.

Never blame this violence, 'tis the best quality a Lover can have, to my knowledge.

Madam, my Brother has made me his confident in this affair, and I can answer for his truth; do not think me partial, for I assure you, I will value your interest equal with his, or with my own.

You extreamly oblige me with your kindness; and your friendship will be able to sweeten all misfortunes that can happen to me.

You Lovers had need have something to sweeten, for ye are an unlucky fort of people.

Love, when inclinations meet, is the only condi­tion to be enjoy'd. Love! there is no life without it; we do but sleep, and dream we live, when we are not in love; and pray Madam will you be pleased to wake out of this dream, and think a little of one that loves you so, that his life or death depends upon your breath.

You let me take no breath Sir.

A good Souldier, when he has made a breach, assaults it presently; and never gives time to repair, and for­tifie.

But extemporary love, is most commonly as Hypo­critical, as extemporary prayer: But if not dissembl'd, 'tis seldom constant.

Let me beg to know your resolutions, must I live or die?

Come Madam, be merciful, and reprieve the Gentle­man, that may be otherwise so far given over as to hang him­self for your Ladyships love.

Let me beg you will please to encourage my Brothers affection, which I am sure is true, and honourable.

Madam, think your self in my place, and imagine whether I have not given too much incouragement for the first time; and whether it becomes my honour to give more.

Pox o' this canting word Honour, it never did good yet, it is often the occasion of Killing men, and pre­vents the getting of 'em.

Madam, there is no honour but in love, the rest is but a shadow of honour; which the Authors of Romances have perplext with intricacies, more than the Schoolmen have Divinity.

You give me no time to think of love.

I that have so little time, ought to make what use I can of this; if my Father perceives this, he will with all the malice that can be, seek to prevent me.

But Sir, I have a Mother (whom yet I never dis­obey'd,) that hath engag'd her self to your Father; and though I confess, I can never think of marrying him, yet I must think of no other, without her consent.

This is you that made that engagement, I thank you, a Plague of all Matchmakers; but I must make

use of her yet, & not undeceive Isabella in the Character of her.

Sir, I did not know you had a passion here, but I will make you amends: if I can marry her to Theodore

he's liberal, and will reward me well; but his Father is the most hidebound Fellow—he has the Villany of fifty Iews, and, which is more, of ten London Brokers in him.

Madam, let me have but some assurance, not to to have your unkindness, and all other oppositions in the world are trifles.

Come Mrs. Isabella, hold off no longer; in short, you told me you loved this Gentleman violently, and wish't he were captivated with you; you did not wish it, that you might use him ill; therefore, since 'tis your inclination, dissemble [Page 56] no longer: Here's the Gentleman, take him by the hand, he is your own ipso facto, he's a proper Gentleman, make much of him; here he is for you, and there's the short and the long on't. Now Mr. Theodore I think I have made you amends.

Can I believe so great a happiness, I am so transpor­ted Madam, you must expect no sense from me.

Sir, since she has betray'd my weakness, which she for her Sex sake ought to have concealed, and I ought in modesty not to have told you, pardon my easiness, and think me not guilty of levity, if you do, you will be very unjust to censure one that esteemes you so well.

I should as soon censure heaven for granting my prayers; I have not words enough to tell you how welcome this minute is to me.

Now I hope you will do me the honour to let me call you Sister.

I shall be proud to be call'd so by you, but I can­not be so till my Mother consents.

Shall I have your leave Madam, to use all the means I can to procure her consent?

I freely give you leave to do and say what ever you can to obtain it; but I believe you will find it hard to break off her engagement with your Father.

Now comes my part, to set my braines on work, I'le shew you the mastery of my Art, and make your Father break off first.

It is impossible he should be such a wretch as as willingly to quit so great a Prize.

I warrant you, trust me, there is one of my ac­quaintance who I will perswade him is worth 500. l. more than this Lady; and though Madam he loves you very much, yet he loves a little money much more: This friend of mine is but a Taylors Daughter, but I will make her Act a Countess with some odd Title; and she can behave her selfe as proudly and statelily, as the best of 'em, I will make him believe that she has a very great mind to marry him for his care and thrift, &c. This may make him release my Lady of her engagement.

I think you have reason.

Reason ay, I think so; if I han't, who should have it? alas I have done things that shall be nameless, that no woman of intrigue but my self has been capable of, though I say it; and if I do not bring this about, I will never pretend to an intrigue again.

You will infinitely oblige me.

Madam, my Lady your Mother desires your com­pany instantly.

I wait on her. Madam, if possible I will wait on you at Supper.

I hope your affairs will permit you to do us that honour.

Let me have the honour to wait upon you to your Mother; and be pleas'd to make me so happy as to assist me in perswading her to break off the Engagement with my Father.

A man of your deserts needs no advocate with me, I am sure. Madam, your humble servant: your servant Mrs. Cheatly.

Now Madam I have something to impart to your Ladyship's privacy.

To me, what is it?

Your Ladyship is very young, and mighty Pritty, really I have never seen so charming an eye, so delicate an air in any Face, so excellent, such pleasant motion, and so be­witching a way—

Pray Madam don't raily me at this rate—

I protest Madam I speak my opinion. Now Madam there is an acquaintance of mine is extreamly taken with your Ladyship; he is one of the hansomest and most accomplisht Sparkes in Town: He has fifteen hundred Pound a year, and his love is honourable too; now if your Ladyship will be pleased to walk in Grays-Inn walks with me, I will design it so that you shall see him, and he shall never know on't.

I ask your pardon, I have no thoughts of put­ting my self off to Sale; but when I have, that Mart is too scandalous.

In the Mulbery-Garden, then Madam, he shall never know of it; I vow the poor Gentleman is ready to die for your Ladyship.

You must excuse me.

In Covengarden Church, will you see him? I'le or­der it so with him that keeps the Gallery, that you shall both set together there.

I assure you, I carry no such thoughts about me to Church.

Mrs. Cheatly, your Daughter ha's urgent business with you, and desires you to come home immediately; I find Mr. Squeeze is there privately.

I thank you dear Robin. Madam, I hope to con­vince you next time I see you; in the interim I kiss your Ladyships hand.

Your servant.

This woman I fear is a little scandalously given, I will not trust her.

Oh Madam I have been seeking you at the Park, and the Mulbery-Garden; and thought it an Age till I saw you.

What's the matter? you look as if you had some ill news for me.

I am sorry I must tell you, that which we must speedi­ly provide against. Your Father has prepared an entertain­ment, and will have a Hackney Parson ready, that will ven­ture all his Perferment, and go against the Canonical Hour, to marry you this night to that Rascal Timothy: and in spight of all my perswasion, your Father is resolv'd on't.

How sudden are these resolutions? I shall not need to counterfeit sickness, I shall have enough when I see him.

Be pleased suddenly to make use of that Artifice; and if that prevent not, I hope you will give me leave to own my person, and my love.

What disease must I make choice of now?

Here's one comes to help you to one.

This is lucky, above my wishes; he is very drunk, and that will certainly defeat your Fathers intention; this night, if you dare trust your self with him, I'le bring your Father to see him in this condition.

Pray do, it will do very well.

Oh dear Mistriss, have I found you! let me Salute you, de' see?

Hold Sir.

Nay prethee Mrs. Thea don't be so coy, look what I have brought you here; here's a Bottle of Campaigne, I think they call it, and almost a whole Neats-Tongue, and a power of Sweet-Meats, for you dear Mrs. Thea, there they are.

This Fellow has that advantage by nature, that not drunkenness, nor any condition can make him worse.

Well Mrs. Thea, I have been with the finest Ladies, and the merriest Gentlemen; we did rant, and roar, and sing, and tear, Hey, Diseases and Troubles are, &c. Faith I am as drunk as a Drum, or as the driven Snow, or as Davids Sow, as the saying is, de' see? Hey, fa la la la, prethee dear Mrs. Thea let me kiss thee now, nay prethee do, nay shaw poise on't.

Be not so passionate good Sir.

Nay peuh, I can't abide this, you might have given one a fall now, would I might ne're stir; but 'tis no matter for that, I'le drink six go-downs upon reputation in Cam­paigne to your health, de' see? I can be merry when I set on't: i' faith here's your health upon my knees, de' understand me? Oh if I had but Fiddles to play a health now!

Do you see Sir how abominably drunk he is?

He is a little in Beer, he is; he is disguis'd, that's the truth on't.

There Mrs. Thea I have done it, faith you shall pledge [Page 60] me by word of mouth; de' see, nay fack I am sound, you may drink after me, de' conceive me?

You see Sir he is too drunk to be married to night.

Come come, he's the fitter for't, for being drunk, if he be sober, he may repent him, and ask a Portion: stay here, I will fetch a Parson immediately.

This is worse and worse, Madam did you hear him?

Yes to my grief, I must into my Chamber, and be very sick.

Nay, if you stir I am a Rogue, a very Rogue, de' see? wee'l be very merry, Diseases and Troubles, &c.

Who taught you this insolence? unhand her.

Why you saucy Fellow you, what's to do with you? Ha, you are so purdy.

Where's Mr. Timothy Squeeze?

'Slife, what makes this Rascal here? if I do not carry him off, I lose the hopefullest Bubble in Christendom.

Where's Mrs. Thea, Mrs. Thea?

Mr. Timothy come along with me, Mrs. Ioyce is im­patient till she see's you.

I'le not stir till I see Mrs. Thea, where's Mrs. Thea? Hey, Hey.

She says you are a drunken Rascal, and she will have you kick'd out.

Does she so? would I might ne're stir if I do not do her errand to her Father.

Come away and leave her: Mrs. Ioyce is a person of Quality, and Fortune, and will use you with more civility.

I know she's a fine person, and I'le wait on her, but I am resolved to stay till Mr. Goldingham comes, that I may tell him of this Gilflirt his Daughter.

Nay then, I must to my last shift; Bayliffs come in.

I Arrest you, at the Suit of Humphrey Nit a Barber.

Sirrah, you lie like a Rogue, I owe him not a farthing.

No Sir, but you did vi et armis break, or cause to be broken a very large Window, where he us'd to expose his Flaxen Periwigs.

Is that all? I'le Bail him for that—

Will you? nay then I'le break 'em again, I'le break Windows with e're a Gentleman that wears a head.

Come come and talk of these things in another place.

Ay with all my heart, Diseases and Troubles, &c. What a pox care I, come.

This is a lucky Fellow that came in to our rescue.

Dear brother, I am glad I have found you, I have a design, and upon my Father too, in which I am confident you will joyn.

—You may be sure to command me in any thing.

I know some may blame me, but love excuses all.

Love, like the Crown, takes away all Attainders.

My design is to work so upon my Fathers cove­tousness, as to draw him into a Plot against the Government; and he is you know, a mighty well wisher to the damn'd good old Cause, yet.

This will be dangerous tampering with; how can you draw him into one, without being guilty your self?

It shall be but a seeming Plot, you may be sure; I would not engage my self in a real one; 'tis only a design to invert the order of nature for a while, and keep my Father in awe.

How can you contrive it?

I have several great Chests almost full of Lumber, but cover'd on the top with a great many fine Arms, here he comes, I have not time to tell you the rest; but pray second me, in what I shall say to him.

I'le not examine your design, but serve you.

Have you the confidence to appear before me, after your giving my Ring away, and sending for those moun­tains of Sweet-Meats, and that Ocean of Wine and Limonades?

I humbly beg your pardon; but I thought I had done well, since you commanded me to shew all the respect imaginable to my intended Mother-in-Law.

Respect with a pox, de' call it?

I beseech you be not angry, I'le get your Ring a­gain for you, and put you in a way to get forty Guinnes this night, but I must be very private in it.

How! can you do that? then I will forgive all your extravagance; but how is it? speak, you may trust Bella­mour.

Sir, there is one that was my Shcool-fellow, that I am very well acquainted with, that is called a Phanatick according to the flesh, he (after he had made me take an Oath of Secrecy, told me of a design his Brethren had, who (out of pure Zeal against Surplice and Common Prayer Book) were resolved upon an insurrection, and to sieze in one night upon Whitehal, and the Exchequer.

What say you?

They have accordingly provided Arms and Am­munition, which they dispose of in packs of goods; to their secret friends, and well wishers, for which they reward them liberally.

What can this come to?

He remembring that (when we were Boys to­gether) I had shewn him a secret Vault in the Garden, that is known but to few, propounded to me the concealing six Chests of Armour there, and promised forty Guinnes, and an Oath of Secrecy; this Sir you may chuse, whether you will accept of or no, but I thought I was obliged in duty to tell you, knowing you take all occasions whatsoever for the get­ting of money.

I got a good part of my Estate by Rebellion (as many other Estates were raised) but I would be loath to lose it by Rebellion again.

There is no danger, we will all take Oaths of Secrecy.

Ready money Sir is not to be despised, 'tis a precious thing.

There spoke an Angel.

Besides Sir, if the Chest should be discover'd, (which will be almost impossible) some of your Swcarers in Ordinary shall testifie you took 'em in Pawn.

The money is sweet, but the attempt is

dangerous; hold to Theodore. Now Sir, I am glad you have put me in a way to be revenged of you for all your Villanies; I will immediately acquaint the King with your Treason, and you shall be hang'd.

For heaven's sake, betray not your own Son.

My Loyalty is dearer to me than Son and Daughter, and all the Relations in the world; I will hang him, I'le to the King immediately.

I am at your disposal Sir, but be pleased to re­member I did this for your advantage, and out of love and duty to you.

No Sir, I will hang you, never speak on't; farewel, shall I betray my Countrey?

Hold Sir, for Heaven's sake conceal it, I will re­turn the twenty Guinnes he gave in earnest; here they are, I will go and give 'em him immediatly.

Did he give you twenty Guinnes, hum?

Yes Sir, and promised twenty more at the deli­very of the Chests.

Fourty Guinnes is a most delicious Sum, where are they? let me see them.

Here they are Sir, but I beseech you be not angry; I will carry them immediately.

Hold, it may be there's no necessity of that— I would hang this Rogue; but fourty Guinnes, dear fourty Guinnes.

He comes on a pace.

Sir, I will by no means offend you with the sight of 'em, I am gone.

Stay I say, and let me see them.

I am afraid it will provoke you to talk any more of this business▪ do not be offended, I will return them in­stantly.

'Sdeath Sir, I will see them.

There they are Sir.

Oh Sir, how I could hug that Gold.

Ay Bellamour, does it not look beautifully? they talk of the beauty of women; but give me the beauty of Gold, Oh dear, dear, sweet Gold.

Shall I return 'em Sir?

No Sir, you shall not: Oh dear, dear Guinnes, are we all secret?

We are.

Swear never to reveal this.

We do Swear.

Well Son, your importunity at last has overcome me, when shall these Arms be delivered?

This night at ten a Clock.

Do you Bellamonr see it done, and take his Oath of Secrecy. But I had forgot, where is Mr. Timothy? the Parson is ready in the Parlour.

He was Arrested here by Bayliffs, for breaking Win­dows when he was drunk, who have hurried him I know not whither.

'Sdeath how unlucky is this! send immediately to all the Bayliffs hereabouts, to find him out; go Bellamour.

Pox on't, I might have saved money, he would have consented to have betray'd his Countrey for half the Sum; and so will any covetous man, that can do it safely.

Sir, I am very glad I have taken you alone; I have a secret to impart to you.

'Sdeath she's come to borrow money of me.

Though it may be to no purpose, I think it my duty to acquaint you, that I have since I parted with you discovered a Countess that is not above thirty, that is extream­ly in love with you for your person, besides your care and [Page 65] thrift, which she says to me, would be very useful to her in the mannagement and improving of her Fortune, she has five hundred Pounds more than Isabella.

What you are merry, Mrs. Cheatly?

Nay Sir, if you distrust me, there's no hurt done; I did not think you would embrace the offer; but I thought my self bound to discharge my trust, for the truth is, she en­gaged me (though something unwilling) to use my care in this business.

Why, sure thou art not in earnest?

If ever you were (when you said your prayers) I am.

There must be something in this,

this is strange Mrs Cheatly.

You may chuse whether you will believe me or no, for my part I don't desire you should change; for I think if there be any difference, Mrs. Isabella is something more desirable.

Good faith, but if this be true, she is not more de­sirable, fifty Pounds is a noble Sum, and more than any wo­mans person is worth: for my part fifty Pounds with me would turne the ballance, were there ne're so much difference in their persons. But who is this?

You must not know, till you see her.

Can all this be true thou tell'st me?

If I make it not good, I'le forfeit my life; but I'le take my leave now, I have done my errand; but truly Sir, I think you ought not in honour to quit Isabella.

In good faith but I ought, I take it; Honour! quoth she; lose five hundred Pounds in honour! what a pox care I for their persons in comparison with money?

I am a little in hast, but I beseech you let not Mrs. Isabella know of this, she will be distracted.

Hold a little, it was unlucky we did not know of this before you brought Isabella acquainted with my Daugh­ter, I shall be troubled with her: but canst thou oblige me to contrive an interview between the Countess and me?

Ay and a Marriage too, if I would; but really I think you are too far engaged to Isabella.

Engag'd, I am not engag'd, I will have nothing to do with her; I will forbid her my house.

Is Mrs. Theodora here?

What would you have with her?

Mrs. Isabella presents her service to her, and says she cannot possibly wait on her at Supper.

'Tis very well, 'tis no matter whether she does or no, go get thee about thy business Lad; go go. This is very lucky: Mrs. Cheatly you'l Sup here.

Sir, I must go home first. Your Servant. This will be joyful news for the two Lovers.

Sir here's a Porter come from Mr. Squeeze, who says he is engaged upon extraordinary business, and cannot Sup here to night.

The Devil take thee for thy news.

Mr. Timothy was at the Rose Sir, under an Arrest, but was Bail'd by Mr. Rant and Mr. Hazard; and is gone a­long with them we know not whither.

All my designs are crossed this night, here's my Supper lost, and I have not given one this dozen years before, but I'le make these Rogues fast this month for't; begon Rogues, and call my Son: Oh here he is.

Son I have something to say to you of concernment, pray (now we are alone) speak freely, how do you like this Isabella? (setting aside the name of a Mother-in-Law.)

I like her, what does he mean?

Yes, her Air! her Shape! her Beauty! her Wit.

Faith Sir (to speak the truth) she is not what she appear'd to me, she has no Air or Spirit in her Face, her Shape's very indifferent, her Motion awkward, and her Wit little or none, but I like her well enough for a Mother-in-Law.

You talked at another rate to her to day.

I only made some few complements to her in your name, I meant not one of 'em▪ I assure you.

Do you think you could have no kind of inclination for such a kind of woman?

No not I Sir, if there were none but such women, I should be out of danger of Gun Shot.

I am sorry to find this, because it breaks a resolution I had made: I had reflected with my self upon Isabella's youth and my age; which are so disproportionable, that I have made choice of another, a Countess too of about thirty years old, that's worth five hundred Pounds more than she.

How has Cheatly wheadled him already! I'le try him further: Sure Sir you cannot be in earnest.

By Heaven I am, and (but for this aversion I find in you) I would have Married Isabella to you.

To me Sir?

Yes, to you.

'Tis a thing I must confe [...]s I have no inclination in the world to; but I will obey your commands in any thing.

No no, mistake me not, I'le not force your inclinati­on.

Sir, I am easily inclined to any thing you please to impose upon me.

No Sir, I will impose nothing; those Marriages can never be happy where affections do not meet.

I'le sacrifice my affection to interest, and your commands.

No no, if you had loved her, you should have Married her in my stead; but (since you have such an aver­sion,) I'le follow my first design, and marry her my self.

Then Sir I must speak freely to you, I love her infinitely, and designed to ask your consent at the same time you declared your intention to marry her your self, and you might easily have perceived how that declaration surprised me.

'Tis very well, & did you ever reveal your love to her?

I have Sir, and she received it very kindly; and her Mother too, if you will quit her of her engagement, will freely dispose of her to me.

And has the Daughter consented to this, say you?

She has Sir, and I am extreamly happy that you are pleased to give your consent; nothing else could be want­ing to compleat my happiness.

I will give you my consent to hang your self, but not to marry her, I assure you.

How's this?

'Slife I had been finely serv'd, to have been bob'd of my Mistriss, for a story of a Countess of I know not what, this was a fine conspiracy.

Sir, You are very mysticall, pray let me understand you.

I speak plainly: Do not dare once to think of loving this Lady: Have you the impudence to pretend to one whom I reserve for my selfe?

This makes me mad. Sir, Since you provoke me thus, I doe pretend to her, and will never quit those pretensions but with my life.

Impudent villaine! to speak thus to your Father.

In other things I respect you as my Father, but love knowes no body.

I will make you know me, or I'le cut your throat.

A lover, and affraid of threats?

And shall I that am a love endure this insolence?

I will not make use of my plot yet, things are not ripe.

Out of my doores you Rascall.

Fare you well Sir,

This designe was well scaped; but'le watch your wa­ters I warrant you.

My dear, I doubt not thy constancy, so pretty a creature cannot be false to one that loves her as I do.

Indeed I can think of no body but you; the thoughts of you are the last that leave me at night, and the first that salute me in the morning.

I am sure I am sufficiently troubled with her, she talkes and thinks of nothing but you; if I aske her a question about business, she answers me something about you, and is so out of [Page 69] humour when you are absent.

Alas poor thing! my deare pretty Lettice!

My dear Mr. Squeeze, I can find no satisfaction but in thy conversation, 'tis so charming and pleasant.

Thou art the rarest woman upon earth. Let me kiss thy hand upon my knees;

I know thou lovest me, and art true to me, for which I'le reward thee to the full: There's ne're a one of 'em all shall keep his Mistress better than I do; go to the Goldsmiths, and chuse a hun­dred pounds worth of Plate, I'le send mony for't by an un­known hand.

Alas how can I deserve it? I can returne nothing but my thanks, nor can I desire any thing from you but your constancy.

upon these termes.

I will be as constant to thee, as the Sun and Moon are to their courses.

But I shall have you get a young Wife, and forget mee.

If I should marry, my Dear, it should be for money, that I might spare the more for thee: besides what married man Loves not his Mistress better than if he were single? a Wife is but a foyle to a Mistress.

'Tis true, this is the fashionable opinion, but you would be of another mind I feare.

Prethee believe me if I had a Wife, thou should'st have power to turne her out of dores at thy pleasure, thou shouldst ride in myglass Coach when she took a hackney; thou shouldst have my purse, my heart, and every thing: are Wives to be compar'd to Mistresses, that would be a fine age i' faith.

This is extreame kind, you are a good Man: I could never endure that a Wife should share affection with me, espe­cially from thee my Deare.

Nay, prethee my dear, do not stroke my head, 'tis bald, but 'tis not with age, for I am not above eight and thirty, but the hair came off with a sicknesse.

'Tis no matter, I like it, I hate them that weare much haire upon their heads, 'tis greazy, and smells ill; but this is so sweet, and clean, and pretty, I could kiss it now.

Oh Daughter, here has been the young Knight you know of; he was so importunate to see you, I thought I should never have got rid of him.

What's that, pray let me know?

Nothing Sir,

Prethee my Dear tell me.

Pray Sir do not aske, it signifies nothing.

I shall take it unkindly if you do not tell me.

Nay there is nothing I can keep from you: the truth is, my Taylour came to Dun me, but the Rascall shall stay I war­rant him.

How much is the debt?

Twenty pounds.

As I am an honest man, but he shall not stay, here's the money, give it him immediately.

Sir Ieffery Smelsmock is coming up to see Mistriss Lettice; she was denied below, but he would not be answered.

Oh heaven, we are undone, if I stop him not.

What's the matter, is it another Dun? prethee have comfort I'le send thee 50 l. to morrow morning to discharge all little driblets.

I could not expect this from you.

I have got rid of Sir Ieffery much adoe. Well this Mercer's sawcy fellow, here's a stir for a little money indeed.

Hang him rascal, he shall not have it these six Moneths for his insolence, and I'le have him kickt besides.

Sir, I tell you she is not within.

Hold your tongue you insolent rascal! I'le break open

the door. Where's Lettice, where is your Ladyship? let me in, or by Heaven I'le break the dore.

For heavens sake Sir get into the Closset till I get rid of this roaring fellow, I know not who it is.

Ay with all my heart, where is it? I tremble every joint of me.

What Madam, your Ladyship

is grown coy and deny your selfe: What you do this for an old Rascal, they say that keeps you; If I can learn his name, or catch him here once, I'le cut off his eares, and his nose, both his arms, and both his leggs, I will mangle the old dog so.

Oh defend me heaven from this roaring Bully, he puts me in a cold sweat.

Let me beg of you to go into another Room, and I'le satisfie you.

Come on, now you are civill.

Would this Bully were hang'd, he'l ruine my daugh­ter. Come Mr. Squeeze, all's clear, come out.

Is he gone, he has put me in a dreadfull fright; this was a Dragon of a Bully▪

You see Sir what she suffers for your sake, because she will not yield to the temptations of men.

Ay poor heart, but whither is she gone? Pray heaven she be true to me.

She must give him faire words till she gets him out, and then she'l wait on you.

Oh me, where is she, she stayes long, pray heaven all be well.

What is this Girle doing?

Gad forgive me, will she never come, what is the matter? I am affraid the Bully is not gone.

Why Lettice, will you never come?

I hope in Gad she's honest, but I do not like this.

Oh fie upon you, you have been naughtwith this Bully, look how you are Ruffled.

Mum, not a word, I have sent him away much adoe, I'le have him clapt by the heeles if he comes to affront me again like an insolent fellow as he is.

Heaven, what noyse is that there?

there are more roaring Bullies abroad. Let us retire quickly to bed, and bolt the dore upon our selves, my dear Lettice; quickly Mistriss Cheatly barre the dores of the house.

Hey let's break windowes in abundance.

Ah brave Timothy, thou art as gallant a Bully as a man shall see in a summers day.

Here's the Constable, don't you use to beat him al­wayes when you see him?

Yes, and will now.

Stand in the Kings name.

I can stand in ne're a Kings name in Christendome but we will beat you in the Kings name very exceedingly.

Knock ▪em down, fall on Fellowes of the watch.

Have at you Rogues that disturbe the Kings Peace, and will not let honest fellowes give serenades, and break win­dowes in quiet, have at ye.

Hey, have we conquer'd you ye Rogues? lay down your armes.

Lay downe your weapons, or wee'l cut your throats.

Well sir, 'tis done.

Do you mutiny ye Rogues, against Bully Rocks, your Commanders?

Are you offended at the noyse of fiddles? strike up, and sound an alarme in the eares of 'em.

Come Rogues here are just eight

of you; either daunce to these fiddles, or we will slice you into steakes.

Ha ha, come fellowes of the watch, wee'l please them for once, they are very merry Gentlemen I fack,

'Tis very well done, there's a crown to drink for you: I, like Iulius Caesar, am generous to foes o're come.

Here's another for you to make ye as drunk as we are.

And I'le be outdone by no man, there's a broad piece for you, now I have beaten you.

Hee's plaguy liberal of our Money. Stay watch and be our guard.

We thank ye Gentlemen, and will live and dy with ye.

Strike up here, faith wee'l see Lettice before we have done: Cheatly open the door.

We are all abed: what Ruffians are those?

Bounce at the door, break the windowes, hey.

Heart! if I be discovered in this condition I am ruined for ever, my credit in the City will be quite lost: Heaven they have almost broke the door, I must venture to escape at this window.

Death I have broke my bones; oh, oh.

How now, what noyse is that?

Some body leaped out of a window: lets see what old Rogue's this.

Ay, what old Rogues this, ha?

I was frighten'd out of my Lodging by these Roa­ring Blades, and I thought to have escaped out of a win­dow.

Speak to me, I represent the King's person, who are you? what make you here?

Hang him, take him away to the Round house.

My Son here drunk with Bullies! then all my shame comes together.

What's here, he has been in bed with a woman, and for hast has mistaken a red silk stocking of hers for his own.

'Tis true, away with him an old whoring Rogue.

Ay away with him, an old Rogue, in bed with a whore! away with him, away with him.

We must secure the woman to.

Wee'l secure her, carry him away.

What a dreadfull mistake was this, I am for ever un­done, I am for ever ruined, what shall I do?

If you will Rant, let's first give Isabella a serenade, and then come hither againe. It will be time too, to bring our buble to Mistress Ioyce againe.

Come along Fiddles, strike up.

Rank your selves here, strike up, and put out the lights that we may not be discover'd.

Faire Isabella, sweet Isabella! look out and shine upon your servants.

How now, what Rascals are these: Robin fall on.

Are you so briske?

This must be Theodore and his man that are engaged, I parted from 'em but just now.

Fly, shift for your selves, the day is lost.

Who's this that is so kind to draw his sword for us? my dear Brother, is it you? a thousand thanks to you.

No words, but lets pursue the Rogues.

I Wonder who those Fellows were we rancounter'd last night.

Very active nimble youths, they ran like Irish Foot-men.

If we had catch'd 'em, we would have paid 'em for scouring under that Window: But now I can think of no­thing else but love. Revenge has given place to that. Yester­night I got a promise from my Mistress, and am within this hour to meet her, and marry her privately in the City; this day will make me richer than the Indies can.

I congratulate your good Fortune, but cannot envy any man, since I am happy in my Theodora's love.

Here's a Letter Mr. Bellamour came by the Post for you.

For me!

What is it that disturbes you?

News that nothing could make tollerable to me, but that it puts me into a condition of serving my Theodora bet­ter then I could before.

How's that?

My Father has been dead these nine months, and died without a Will; my younger Brother is at present possest of the Estate, and has inhumanly put my Mother and Sister out of the house, who live privately in this Town, somewhere about Covengarden. This account I have received from my man, who is hasting up to Town to me.

In good faith such news would break a mans heart; [Page 79] but pray beare it with a manly fortitude; if my Father should knock off, I could have no other remedy.

I have now no time to railly with you, I'le to my dear Theodora, and hope to get her into so good a humour, that we shall not be long after you in Marriage: adieu.

What ever you are in that, I am sure you are be­fore hand with me in the death of a Father. How now Bullies, are you up so early? sure you have lain rough, or have not slept to night.

How now Lover that are, and Whore-Master that was, you are full of your bobs.

What I warrant you, you are got up early to Write a fashionable Sonnet, without sense, upon the Divine Isabella.

How many Stars, Moons, Suns, Alabasters, Roses, Pearls, and Rubies, have you made use of for similies?

Come prethee communicate, let's see the labour of thy Muse.

As I live, drunk still: but Gentlemen I hate the name of a Muse, as I do that of a Baud; were I a Poet I would invoke Creswell or Gifford before any Muse in Christendom.

Faith thou art in the right, for they tw [...] can sup­ply our necessities better than all the nine Muses.

But this is not our business, here is a young Gentle­man at the door call'd Mr. Timothy Squeeze, that comes to wait on you.

Hang him Rascal, keep him to your selves, he's fitter for your purpose; have you fleec'd him soundly?

Very sufficiently I assure you, but he is come upon a pleasant occasion; he says he has done you, and your Fa­mily such an injury.

Pox on him, I will forgive him any but the trouble of his company.

Thou shalt see him, and when he tells thee his con­dition, thou wilt find we have Reveng'd thee to the full; I'le fetch him in.

How have you us'd the Rogue? you have won all his money.

That's not all, but I'le not forstall you, you shall be surprised into your pleasure; he beg'd of us to make him friends with you for fear you should kill him, he fears not your Father.

Are you sure he will do me no hurt?

I am, speak to him.

Sir, your Servant.

Sir, Yours.

I beg your pardon from the bottom of my heart, for an injury I have done you, and your Family.

What's that?

Pray Sir be not in passion, and I'le tell you, you know Sir I should have have been your Brother-in-Law Sir; and last­night it seems I was overtaken in Campaigne, and as these Gentle­men tell me (for I vow I remember not a word on't) I married one Mrs. Ioyce, Mr. Hazards Cousin Sir: But your Sister sent me word she would have me kick'd out of the house Sir last­night, or I should not have done it on my cnoscience Sir; I find I did it in passion really.

Oh brave Bullies, now you have Revenged me sufficiently.

Now Sir, I hope in God you will please to forgive me since I married in drink; and I vow to God Sir, as I am an honest man, I meant no more hurt in't Sir, than I do at this present; for I wak'd this morning Sir, and found my self in Bed with the said Mrs. Ioyce, de' understand me, (and I vow she's a pure Bed-fellow that's the truth on't) but at first I was frighted, and wondr'd what a dickens was the matter, when these Gentlemen came up with a Cawdle to me, and fac'd me down I was married Sir, and at last shew'd me the Ring, the Licence, and the Parsons Certificate Sir.

No more Sir, I forgive you freely Sir.

Sir I am beholding to you; but if there be an offence you must blame those Gentlemen; for I protest and vow I in­tended to marry Mrs. Thea, or would I might ne're stir out of [Page 78] this place alive. But I tell you in private, if I had not married the aforesaid Mrs. Ioyce, I believe they would have forc'd me to it: for my part Sir, I don't like 'em; for between you and I, they won above forty Pound on me. But to give the Devil his due, the Gentlewoman is a Pretty Gentlewoman, and they say has a good Portion.

This relation pleases me, but pray take away your Fool, for I have business of great concern­ment.

This was all we had to say to you. Fare you well.

Tim come along, dear soul.

Ay come Cousin

Sir your Servant to command.

Sir, I have a Present for you, but let us begon Sir, and take it in another place; pray follow me, I am weary with carrying it.

What means the fellow?

Here is a Chest of money of your Fathers that was hid in the Garden.

Of my Fathers! how camest thou by it?

Not very honestly Sir, but this is no place to ask questions in, now I am Reveng'd on him for calling me theif; follow me Sir.

This is a lucky supply.

Is Madam Theodora within?

She is gone out with Mr. Bellamour.

Is not your Master within?

We expect him every minute Madam.

Now Mrs. Bridget, can you represent a Stately Coun­tess.

Never fear me; Page hold up my Train Sirrah, I can beare my head as high as any Lady in Christendom.

Remember when any body Salutes you, to turne your Cheek to him, as great Ladies use; that's very convenient too, for concealing a tainted breath.

Mine is not so, but I'le not forget it.

But thou hast so used to offer thy mouth, that thou wilt forget it.

Oh Sir, your Servant, the Countess of Puddle Dock is come to see Mrs. Theodora.

Countess of Puddle-Dock! I never heard of that Title, it may be 'tis some Scotch or Irish Title.

Madam I kiss your Honour's hand: where is my Daughter that she comes not to wait on her Honour.

Not within. This is the Countess I spoke of

Let me see; if this be a Countess, and has such a Fortune, no more then of Isabella; but I must into the Garden to my dear Gold. Madam I'le wait on your Honour presently.

Is not this an amiable old Gentleman?

As bad as he is, I am not so nice, but I could make shift with him.

Murder, murder, Oh Theeves, theives.

What's the meaning of this, is the man mad.

Thieves, thieves, murder, murder, death, devils, dam­nation, Hell and furies, thieves, thieves, I am undone, undone, they have cut my throat, they have murder'd me, they have stole my money, where is it? what's become on't? where are the Thieves? where have they hid themselves? whither shall I go to find'em? what shall I do? shall I run? shall I stay? are they here? are they there? where are they?

What is it transports you thus?

Oh are you here, give me my money,

where's my Gold, confess, or I'le rack you, where is my dear Gold, my poor Gold, give it me, conceale it no longer.

Help, help, will you murder me?

Are you Mad, 'tis Mrs. Cheatly.

Another, is there more of your number, I will hang ye all, where is my money, Money, Money?

What's the Matter Sir,

Come Countess, 'tis time to shift for our selves.

Oh you thieves, my Gold, my Gold, give me my Gold, I'le hang ye, I'le drown ye, I'le murder ye all; oh my Gold, must I lose thee?

He raves help to hold him.

I have lost my money, my life, my blood, my entrals, my heart, my vitalls, I dye, I am dead, I am buried, will no body save my life, and help me to it, oh I am mad, what say you, will you, hum; alas I am mad, there's no body: Oh my money, my soule, Justice, Justice, I will hang all the Towne, if Isabella has a hand in't I will hang her, I will beg the help of Constables, Beadles, Churchwardens, Baylies, Sergeants, Justices, Aldermen, Judge, Gibbet, Gallowes, and Hangmen: I will hang my son and daughter if they be guilty: and if I find not my Mo­ney I will hang my self.

My master Sir is Mad, be pleased to command him in his Majesties name to keep his worships wits.

Oh neighbour Justice, you are come in season, I am rob'd undone, make me a Mittimus.

For whom neighbour Goldingham.

For all Covengarden, I will hang every body, oh my Gold.

You'l spoyl all, if you be thus outragious, we must ex­amine such things privately, or you will never have notice of your Money.

Oh my money, I cannot containe my selfe, but if you will assist me, I'le endeavour.

Ha, is my Master Rob'd? now I may be fully reven­ged of our dominus factotum for my beating, and other things.

I am mistaken, or I can give you some light into this business.

Speake what can you say, if you do not discover it, I will hang you.

I do certainly believe that Mr Bellamour has it.

What he that appear'd so true, and faithfull to me?

The same Sir, I believe 'tis he that has rob'd you.

Pray Sir make his Mittimus, I'le hang him if there were no more of the race of all mankind.

But why do you believe it Sir!

Why do I believe it Sir?

Yes.

Why, why, why, because I do believe it.

But I must have some proofs.

Did you see him dig where my money was hidden?

Oh yes Sir, why should I say so else? Where did you lay your money?

In the Garden.

Ay there I saw him digging: What was your mo­ney in?

In a Chest.

Why there's the business, now I saw him have a Chest, and the very same Chest you mean.

What manner of Chest is it?

What manner of one: 'Sdeath I shall be snap'd!

How is it made?

Why 'tis made—'tis made very like a kind of a Chest, extraordinary like a Chest.

But how?

Why 'tis a great Chest.

Mine is a little one. Oh my Gold!

Ay so was this in it self, but for what it contained it was a great one, and was so heavy that I am sure it made him puffe and blow to carry it.

It must be the same, mine is very heavy.

Hold a little pray, what Colour is it of?

Of what Colour.

Yes.

Why it is of a colour, a certain Colour, I know not what a deus they call it, but really it is very pretty Co­lour, for a chest, that's the truth on't.

Was it not a red?

No, no, mine's a green one.

Lord, you are so hasty, a reddish green I was going to say.

The same Sir; pray make his mittimus, and let him be hang'd.

Here he comes, let him not discover this of me; perhaps hee'l confess it.

Come you Villain, come near and confess your wic­kednesse, your abominable action.

What do you mean Sir?

Oh horrid traytor, do you not blush?

Has he heard any thing of his daughter and me; for what should I blush Sir?

Oh impudence, as if he knew not what I meant; but all your villany is discover'd: oh wretch, to come into my house to betray me, and abuse my goodnesse with so infamous an action!

Sir, since you have discover'd me, I'le make no more excuses.

That I should guess so right when I swear at a venture: I told you Sir, hee'd confesse.

He ha's confess'd in part, but we must have more yet▪

It was my designe to tell you of this, but I stay'd for a happier opportunity, and I beseech you be not angry' till I give my reasons.

Oh abominable insolence, he would be giving me reasons for his infamous theft, like an impudent Thiefe.

These Titles are none of mine, and you'l find, if you ex­amine it, that my crime is pardonable.

Oh devill, pardonable, to take away my soul, my life, my blood!

I am in a condition to do your blood no wrong, and to make full reparation for this pretended injury.

Oh you overjoy me, will you make restitution.

Your honour shall be fully satisfyed.

Pox on my honour, I don't talk of my honour. But what could incite you to such action?

Love.

A pox on your love, admirable love indeed, love of my broad pieces.

No sir, it is not your Gold that I care for, let me but en­joy [Page 83] what I have already, and I care for nothing in the world beside.

Oh intollerable insolence, he justifies his theft, and would keep what he has stollen. He distracts me, Sir you shall be hang'd, drawn and quarter'd, before you shall keep the least part of it.

No Sir, you must not keep what you have got, by your favour.

With your favour Sir, but I must; we have mutually enga­ged our faiths, and are now married, and nothing but death shall part us.

Ingaged his faith, and married to my Chest:

'tis enough, make his Mittimus, that he may be hang'd, and so be divorced from it.

Here is some mystery: where is this Treasure you have taken?

Here in the house.

Have you not broke it up?

Broke her up; better words Sir, or I shall forget my re­spect to you; I assure you shee's too honest.

How my Chest of money too honest.

Her fair eyes have inspired in me a more refined passion.

The Faire eyes of my chest.

I see Sir 'tis in vaine to conceale the truth any longer. 'Tis not a quarter of an Houre since your daughter, and I were married in Covengarden; and without a Portion.

Oh devil, is that affront added to my losse?

Without portion, consider that Sir.

Make his Mitt [...]mus, you shall be hang'd you Villaine, send him to the Gatehouse quickly.

How be hang'd! I assure you, though I stole your daughter, 'twas with her own consent.

But you have confest a more capital theft; or if you had not, 'tis sworn against you, and I must send you to the Gaol.

Oh Heaven! what do I hear? S [...]r, [...]veou had any affection for me, hear me now; this Gentleman is a man of Quality and Fortune.

A curse on him, he has rais'd his Fortune on my ruines, and for his Quality 'twill bring him to the Gallows.

For Heaven's sake Sir use no extremity on him, I consented to all he did; if there be a fault committed against you, I am equally guilty, and will suffer with him.

Heaven! my own Daughter guilty of such an action, she shall be hang'd, send her to the Gaol immediately; no less then six thousand broad pieces at a time.

Sir, I underotand you not.

Oh cunning Baggage! look you Mr. Iustice, she under­stands me not; I'le have her hang'd, my own Daughter Rob me.

Rob you! I am amaz'd.

Sure Sir, you are not compos mentis.

I am sorry to find ye guilty of so great a Fellony, I must send ye both to the Goal without Bail or Mainprize.

Brother, I heard you were in this condition, and came to rescue you.

Oh Villian! are you come to heighten my affliction with the sight of you?

Sir, I come about a little business that concerns you.

Business with me? you insolent Rebel, what can that be.

Sir, the money is right.

What money you impertinent Ass?

The broad pieces that were in the Garden, they are just six thousand; and I'le give you an acquittance under my hand for them.

O Devil, had you them?

They were received by my order, to my own proper use and behoo [...]e; I say Received per me Theodore.

O Barbarous insolence, I will cut your throat.

Nay, good Neighbour keep the peace.

I cannot keep the peace, I will not keep the peace▪ [Page 85] let the peace keep its self; 'tis impossible to keep the peace.

By your leave Sir, you must keep the peace, and not be Judge in your own case.

Send him to Gaol then presently.

Be patient, and I will.

Why would you have the Conscience to hang your Son?

Give me my Gold, and I'le spare your life.

No Sir, your Gold is in sure hands, 'tis held in Mortmain.

Then I will hang you Rogue, make his Mittimus.

You may please to remember, that there is a Col­ledge Lease of 4 hundred Pounds a year, that you hold only by my life; you will lose that (if you hang me) besides your broad pieces, of which you shall never have one by Heaven.

Nay then, I cannot be in a worse condition than I am; make hast Sir with his Mittimus.

'Tis a making.

Hold Sir, you must not make it, I did not St [...]al the Gold; I did but Sieze upon't for the Kings use.

By Heaven, I owe the King not a farthing, I paid the last assessment, it went to my heart I am sure; and yet, to say truth, the Assessors have stretch'd their consciences against the King all over England, God bless them: Have you the impu­dence to say I owe the King money?

Assist me Brother.

Do you think Sir the King will let you commit

Treason for nothing?

Treason.

There are Arms and Ammunition in the Vault Sir, if you be pleas'd to remember.

Have a care what you do Sir, Treason will fall heavy upon a rich man; you will be an excellent morsel for a Cour­tier.

Have ye the impudence to speak of a Plot ye drew me into, ye brace of Traitors and Villains?

Sir I know nothing of a Plot, not I, but my Bro­ther and I can swear we saw Arms and Ammunition put in a [Page 86] Vault; and we know from whom they were Receiv'd, and the consideration too. We shall find friends Sir.

Sir Release the Gold, and make no more ado; if it should be found out that we know of the Plot, we should be pardon'd, for bringing in so rich and Capital an offender; but you would find no more mercy, than ever you shew'd to one that forfeited a Morgage.

A curse on these Villains, I am caught in my own snare; they are in the right, I shall be sure to be hang'd, but if I were sure they were to be hang'd with me, it were no matter: But Son, are you in earnest? will you not give me some of my Gold again?

Not one piece by heaven, and pray Sir believe I deal fairly with you, that I ask no more; you know, I have not had a shilling of you these dozen years, 'tis time now to gather my Arrears.

What will become of me? I must either lose my mo­ney or my life, I know not which is best; I think I must go hang my self, for fear of being hang'd.

What shall I send him to Goal?

No, let it alone, I must forgive the Rogue for this time.

And do you release me of the money, before all these witnesses?

Yes yes, but you cursed Villain I will be reveng'd on you, I'le marry Isabella, get Children and disinherit you of all the rest of my Estate.

Now since you have Releast me, look in your Chests in the Vault, and you will find nothing but Lumber.

And was it no Plot you drew me into?

No by heaven, I but pretended it, and your hard usage forced me to these extreamities.

Oh unheard of Villain, I will go marry Isabella in­stantly, and I hope you will hang your self.

Stay Sir, I have one thing more to ask of you. This Lady and I are Married; and beg your pardon, and your bles­sing.

Sir I beg your blessing and your pardon: Heaven would have it thus, and I could not help it.

'Sdeath and Hell! Married! you two Married!

'Tis now too late to perplex your self.

Oh Treacherous wretches! Oh this Engine of the De­vil, Cheatly with her damn'd Countess of Puddle-Dock.

Will you give us your blessing Sir? we kneel for it.

Yes, I will give you my blessing.

I shall receive it joyfully.

May all the curses e're attended Marriage fall on you.

Oh impious wish.

We are obliged to you Sir.

May invincible impotence possess you, raging Lust her, and tormenting jealousie both of ye.

For shame Neighbour be not so wicked.

May the perpetual spirit of contention wait on ye, may ye never in your lives agree in one thing; may the name of quiet ne're be heard betwixt ye; and to compleat all, may ye never be assunder: and so Farewel.

I'le after him, and try if I can mollifie him.

Dear Sister, I am infinitely happy in my relation to you.

It must be so. Oh heaven! it is my Sister (though I have not seen her these nine years) yet she has so much of her former Countenance remaining, that I am sure 'tis she.

Dear Isabella, here is a worthy. Gentleman you must call Brother.

I have a neerer Title to her than what you can give me, she's my own Sister Isabella.

This is wonderful.

Indeed I had an Elder Brother beyond Sea, but we (having not seen him in nine years, nor heard from him these fifteen months) concluded him dead.

(To his great grief) my younger Brother will find it otherwise.

But is it possible! are you my Brother? indeed you have some resemblance of my Father, when he was living.

If you be Sir William Raines his Daughter of the North (as I am sure you are) I am your Brother; but thou wert too young when I left England; to have any impressions left of me now.

My dear Brother, I am convinced, this is a happy hour, this will revive my dear Mother, who has kept her Cham­ber ever since my Fathers death.

My dear Brother, now you are doubly so, but friendship yet shall be the stricter tye.

This is a wonderful and happy union of our Fa­milies.

To shew you more clearly I am your Brother, (though my Father died without a Will) I know it was his intention to give you five thousand Pounds, which upon my honour you shall have.

This is generosity in the highest point; but I was rich in the possession of my Isabella, beyond the thoughts of Dowry; but if I live to have my Fathers Estate, faith I'le be even with you.

This noble offer confirms me, you are my Brother; but why did you so long conceal your self?

That my dear Theodora can best tell you. But let us hast to see my afflicted Mother.

They say the Justices Worship is here Gentlemen.

The Constable with Squeeze! pray lets stay a mo­ment after our Comedy, that ends so pleasantly, in hopes to see a Farse.

Heaven! what confusion am I in, and besides my bones are all loose with the fall last night.

What's the matter Mr Constable?

Why Sir, this old Gentleman (not having the fear of God before his eyes) by the malice and instigation of the De­vil, did yesternight vi & armis, contrary to the Peace of our Soveraign Lord the King, his Crown and Dignity; commit car­nal copulation with one Mris Lettice.

The Stile of an Inditement.

How now Mr. Squeeze, is the snare fallen upon you? can you help a man to three or four hundred Pound at fifty in the hundred, with good security?

You are very merry Sir, 'tis well if you have cause. Oh! Mrs. Cheatly what shall I do? my reputation is ruin'd, I am undone for ever.

Oh Sir, there is more affliction for you yet, your Son lost fifty Pound last night, and Married a wench, one Mrs. Ioyce, that was kept by Alderman Do-Little.

Oh Heaven! all my misfortunes come together; this added to the other, will distract me.

This is for your damn'd Brokeage and Use.

Could you not have brib'd the Constable?

He durst not let me go for fear of the Bullies? what shall I do; what shall I do?

I would be loath to put you to inconvenience, but if you would own my Daughter for your wife, it would soon preserve or at least repair your credit.

She says true.

And if you would really make her your wife, you would be fully reveng'd on your Son for his rash Marriage.

Ha, that's true again directly.

If you do it not, the poor Girle will be ruin'd for ever in her reputation; which you know is her support at pre­sent.

She is in the right, there is no way to save my re­putation but this; if my disgrace should be published, no Godly Citizen will trust me; old men in this Town had as good mar­ry their wenches, for they stand 'em in more money, and they keep 'em as long as if they were their wives.

Mr. Squeeze. here's your Lady, pray restore her Red Stocking, and take your own Black one; Oh Theodore, thou art gone the way of all flesh, I hear thou't Married.

I am Sir, for all your instructions to the contrary.

Then thou art a lost man; yet faith 'tis as Pretty a [Page 90] Girle for a fortnights, use or so, as a man could wish.

I find this Bully has the common place wit of all the young Fops in this Town; in Railing against Marriage.

Now art thou, Theodore, for a year condemn'd to eat and drink, go to Playes, to Church, and lie with thy own wife most unreasonable; But 'tis but having a little patience, and we shall have you amongst us again, as honest a sinner as the best of us.

O Lord, here's my Father, I am so affraid of him.

Bear up to him, you say you have two hundred Pound a year left by an Aunt, which he can't touch.

Ay, I have so.

Stand up and own your wife to him; then besides 'twill vex the heart of Theodora to see how you have bob'd her.

Ay, I think so, (do you understand me?) I hope 'twill break her heart, de' see?

Sir, here's your Son and his Lady, come to ask your blessing.

Oh you infinite Rascal!

Rascal Sir, I am the Son of a Scrivener, and they say I take mightily like my Father too.

Oh Villain! marry a Whore, out of my sight.

A Whore Sir, I vow to God I scorn your words, do you mark me, she's as Pretty a civil young Lady, and I am sure I had her Maiden-Head, had I not my dear?

Yes indeed my dear, the best I had for you.

Oh infamous Villain! marry a Strumpet?

Sir, I'd have you kick'd if you were not my Father-in-Law.

Dare to speak one ill word more of my Cousin, and I'le cut your Throat, old Sot.

I am horrible affraid of this Hector; but I will be Reveng'd of the Rogue my Son.

Now Madam Lettice I hope you'l own me to be equal at least with your Ladyship, Mr. Tim. has made me an honest woman; ther's more that you are.

Farewel Theodore, thou art no more a man of this world; Marriage alters some men, and makes them forget their friends, as much as Perferment does

But I hope he has more grace.

No more of your senseless Railing against Marriage, 'tis dull and common.

There is no mollifying of your Father, he's run out in a rage; he has shut himself in his Closset, and will not be spoke to; Constable what makes you here?

Sir we have brought an old Gentleman here be­fore you, upon suspition of Fornication, an please your Wor­ship.

Whom, Mr. Squeeze! can a man of your years be guilty of Fornication?

Sir, we took him leaping out of a Window half undress'd, and for haste he had puton a Red Silk-stocking of the Gentlewomans from whom he rose:

Is this true?

'Tis true, I was in bed with this Gentlewoman, but she's my wife; and I hope that's no offence.

Your wife.

Yes, and before all this company I a vow her to be so.

O fie for shame Sir, marry a Strumpet

Peace you insolent Rascal.

Lettice, I wish thee joy of thy old Rascal.

I thank you Mr. Theodore. Now Mrs. Ioyce I hope you think not your self my equal: Down on your knees hus­wife and ask me blessing.

I scorn your words, I shall never endure to call you Mother-in-Law while I live.

Madam Isabella, I wish you much joy with this Gentleman, and he is young enough, and handsom enough to give you good store on't.

Mrs. Cheatly, to shew my gratitude to you, I have a hundred pieces ready for you; and Robin, you I will make my particular care.

Sir, to shew you that I have taken some care of you, I have provided Fiddles for you.

Let 'em enter, wee'l borrow my Fathers house for a Dance; for perhaps we shall never come in it again.

What say you Mrs. Cheatly, shall you and I marry, or continue to love on as we did?

I am very indifferent Robin, take thy own choice.

Why then as you were.

Content.

Strike up.

Now we have done, I must confess I have trans­gress'd in my duty to my Father, which I could not help; unless I would have neglected a greater, which I ought to your Beau­ty my dear Isabella, and my Love; and I hope