GOod morrow Master Tim.

Morrow Sim, my father stirring Sim?

Not yet I thinke, he heard some ill newes of your Brother Alexander last night, that will make him lye an houre extraordinarie.

Hum, I am sorry the old man should lye by the hower, but oh, these wicked Elder Brothers, that sweare refuse them, and drinke nothing but wicked Sacke, when wee sweare nothing but niggers noggers, make a meale of a bloate Herring, water it with foure shillings Beere, and then sweare wee have dined as well as my Lord Maior.

Here was Goody Finne the fish-woman fetcht home her Ring last night.

Yee should have put her money by her selfe, for feare of wronging of the whole heape.

So I did fir and washt it first in two waters.

All these petty pavvnes sirrah, my Father committs to to my managing, to instruct me in this craft, that when he dyes, the common-wealth may wanta good member.

Nay, you are curst as much as he already.

Oh Brother, 'tis well you are up.

Why, vvhy?

Now you shall see the dainty Widdow, the sweete Widdow, the delicate Widdovv, that to morrow morning must bee our Mother in Lavv.

What the Widdow Nagge.

Yes, yes, she that dwells in Blacke-fryers, next to the signe of the Foole laughing at a feather.

Shee, shee, good Brother make your selfe handsome, for my father will bring her hither presently.

Niggers noggers, I thought hee had bene sicke and had not bene up Sim.

Why so did I too, but it seemes the Widdow tooke him at a better hand, and rais'd him so much the sooner.

While I tye my Band, prethee stroke up my fore-toppe a little, Niggers, and I had but dreamed of this an houre before I wak't, I wood have put on my Sunday cloathes, 'mailes my shoo [...]s are as pale as the checke of a stewd Pander, a clout, a clout Sim.

More hast, the vvorse speed, here's ne're a clout now.

Whats that lyes by the bookes?

This 'tis a Sumners coate.

Prithee lends a sleeve of that, had a Noble on't last night, and neuer paid me my Bill money.

Looke, looke vpon, and ready, all ready Widdow is, he is in some deepe discourse with Sim, concerning moneyes out to one or another.

Has he sayd his prayers sit?

Praver before providence, when did yee know any thrive, and swell tha [...] uses it, hee's a chip o'th old blocke, I exercise him in the trade of thrift, by turning him to all the petty pawnes, If they come to me, I tell 'em I haue given over Brokering, moy­ling for mucke and trash, and that I meane to live a life Monasticke, a praying life, pull out the tayle of Cressus from my pocket, and sweare 'tis cal'd Charities looking glasse, or an exhortation to for­sake the World.

Dainty Hypocrite.

Peace.

But let a fine foole that's well feathered come, and with­all good meate, I have a friend it may be, that may compassionate his wants, Ile tell ye an olde Saw for't over my chimnie yonder, a poore man seeme to him that's poore, and prayes thee for to lend, but tell the prodigall (not quite spent) thou woo't procure a friend.

Trust me a thristy sawe.

Many will have vertuous admonitions on their walles, but not a piece in their coffers, give mee these vvittie politique sawes, and indeed my house is furnisht vvith no other.

Hovv happy shall I be to vved such vvisedome.

Shall bed it, shall bed it wench, shalt ha't by infusion, looke, looke.

Save ye Master Tim.

Who's this, goodman fyle the black-smith, I thought'had beene our old collier: did you goe to bed vvith that durty face goodman fyle?

And rise vvith it too sir.

What have you bumming out there goodman fyle?

A vice sir, that I would faine bee furnisht vvith a little money upon't.

Why how vvill you doe to vvorke then goodman fyle?

This is my spare vice, not that I live by.

Hum, yee did not buy this spare vice of a leane Courtier, did yee?

No sir, of a fat Cooke, that strain'd of a Smith for's rent.

Oh hard hearted man of grease.

Nay, nay, Sim, vve must doo't sometimes.

Ha thrifty whorsonne.

And vvhat wood serue your turne goodman fyle?

A Noble Sir.

What upon a spare vice to lend a Noble?

Why sir, for ten groats you may make your selfe drunke, and so buy a vice outright for halfe the money.

That is no noble vice I assure ye.

How long vvood y [...] have it!

But a fortnight, 'tis to buy stuffe I protest sir.

Looke ye being a neighbour, and borne one for another.

Ha villaine, shalt have a [...]l.

There is five shillings uppon't, which at the fortnights end goodman Fyle you must make five shillings sixe pence.

How sir?

Nay and it were not to doe you a curtesie—

Ha Boy.

And then I had forgot three pence for my Bill, so there is foure pence, and nine pence, which you are to tender backe, five shillings sixe pence, goodman Fyle at the end of the fortnight.

Well and it were not for earnest necessitie, hay boyes, I come, I come, you blacke rascalls, let the Cans goe round.

Sim, because the man's an honest man, I pray lay up his Vice, as safe as it were your owne.

And if hee misse his day, and forfeit, it shall bee yours and your heires for ever.

What, disbursing money boy? here is thy mother in law

Your nose drops, ' [...]will spoyle her ruffe.

Pray forsooth—what's a cl [...]cke.

Oh fie upon him Mistresse, I thought he had begunne to aske you blessing.

Peace, vveele have more oa't.

I wonnot kisse indeed.

And he wonnot, here are those that will forsooth.

Get ye in you Rogue.

I hope yee will Sir? I was bred in Ireland where the wo­men beginne the salutation.

I wonnot kisse truely.

Indeed you must.

Wood my girdle may breake if I doe.

I have a minde.

Niggers noggers I wonnot.

Nay nay, novv his great oath's past, ther's no talke on't, [...]ke him nere the worse, ther's an old savv sort,

But he can talke though, whose Boy are you Tim?

Your boy forsooth Father.

Can ye turne and vvind a penny Tim.

Better then yourselfe forsooth father.

You have look't in the Church booke late, bovv olde are you Tim?

Tvvo and tvventy yeeres, three moneths', three dayes, and three quarters of an houre, forsooth Father.

He has Arethmaticke.

And Grammer too, vvhat's Latine for your head Tim?

Caput.

But vvhat for the head of a blocke?

Caput blockhead.

Doe ye heare, your eare.

Aura.

Your eye.

Occules.

That's for one eye, vvhat's Latine for tvvo.

Occulies, occulies.

An admirable accidentall Gramarian I protest sir.

This boy shall have all, I have an elder rogue that sucks and dravves mee, a saverne Accademian: one that protests to Whores, and shires vvith High-vvay lavvyers; an arrant unclari­fied Rogue, that drinkes nothing but vvicked Sacke.

Here's a Gentleman would speake with you,

Looke, looke, novv hee's come for more money.

A very hopefull house to match into wench, the Fa­ther a Knave, one sonne a drunkard, and tother a foole.

O monster Father, looke if hee bee not drunke, the very sight of him makes me long for a cup of sixe.

Pray Father, pray to God to blesse me.

Looke, looke, takes his brother for his Father.

Alas Sir, when the drink's in, the wit's out, and none but wise children know their owne Fathers.

Why I am none of your Father, brother, I am Tim, doe ye know Tim.

Yes, umph—for a coxecombe.

How wild he lookes: good sir weele take our leaves.

Shalt not goe faith Widdow: you Cheater Rogue, must I ha my friends frighted out my house by you, looke heele steale [Page] nothing to feast his Bawdes, get ye out sirrah, there are Con­stables, Beadles, whips, and the Colledge of extravaging, E­clipt Bridewell yee Rogue, yee Rogue there is, there is—marke that.

Can you send mee a Marke vpon this Ring sir, and there set it downe in your Booke, and vmph—marke that.

Ile have no stolne Rings, pickt out of pockets, or taken upon the way, not I.

Ile give you an old saw for't.

There's a Rogue mocks his Father, sirrah, get 'ye gone, Sim, goe let loose the Mastiffe.

Alas sir, heele teare and pull out your sonnes throate.

Better pul't out, then a halter stretch't, away out of my doores rogue, I defie thee.

Must you be my Mother in Law?

So your father sayes sir.

You see the worst of your eldest sonne, I abuse no body.

The Rogue will fall upon her.

I will tell ye an old sawe.

Pray let's heare it.

Did yee ever heare such a Rascall? come come, let's leaue him: Ile goe buy thy wedding Ring presently, y'are best bee gone sirrah: I am going for the Constable, I and one of the Church-wardens, and now I thinke on't, hee shall pay five shil­lings to the poore for being drunke, twelve pence shall goe into the boxe, and tother foure, my partner and weele share betwixt us, there's a new path to thrist wench, wee must live, wee must live girle.

And at last die for altogether.

'Tis a Dyamond.

Youle be at the fountaine after dinner?

White, twill runne boy.

Here's a noble now, and Ile bring you tother as I come [Page] by to the Taverne, but Ile make you sweare, I shall drinke no­thing but small Betre.

Niggers naggers thou shalt not, there's thine owne oath for thee, thou shalt eate nothing and thou woo't, but a poacht spider, and driue it downe with sirrup of Toads.

Ah, prithee Sim bid the maid eate my breakefast her selfe.

Has turn'd his stomacke, for all the World like a Puritanes, at the sight of a surplesse, but your breakefast shall bee devoured by a stomacke of a stronger constitution I war­rant you.

No Game abroad this morning, this Coxecombe Parke, I thinke bee past the best, I have knowne the time the bottome twixt these hilles has beene better fledg'd.

Looke out Captaine, there's matter of imployment at foote o'th hill.

A businesse?

Yes, and hopefull, there's a morning bird, his flight it seemes for London, hee hallowes and sings sweetely, prithee let us goe and put him out of tune.

Thee and I haue Cratchets in our pates, and thou know­est two Crotchets make one quaver, he shall shake fort.

Well, was neuer mortall man in Wales, coo'd have wagd pra­ver, finers, and nimblers, then Randals have done, to get service in Londons: whoope, vvhere vvas her novv, just upon a pridge of stone, between the legs of a couple of pretty hils, but no more nere mountaines in Wales, then Clim of the Cloughes bowe, to her Cozen Davids Harpe, and now her prattle of Davie, I thinke yonder come prancing down the hils from Kingstone a coupl of her [Page] tother cozens Saint Nicholas Clarks. the morning was so red as an egge, and the place ferry full of dangers, perills, and bloody busi­nesses by reports: augh her swords was trawne, God plesse us and her cozen Hercules was not stand against too, which shall her take if they take Randalls, will rippe Randals cutts out, and then Ran­dals shall see Pawles steeples no more, therefore her will goe di­rectly vnder the pridge, here was but standing to knees in little fine coole faire waters, and becat if her have Randalls out, her shall come and fetch Randalls and her will, were her nineteene Nicholas Clearkes.

Which way tooke hee?

On streight I thinke.

Then we should see him man, hee was just in mine eye when we were at foot o'th hill, and to my thinking stood here loo­king towards us upon the bridge.

So thought I, but with the cloud of dust wee rais'd about us, with the speed our horses made: it seemes we lost him, how I could stampe and bite my horses eares off.

Let's spurre towards Coomb house, he strucke that way, sure hee's not upon the Roade.

'Sfoot if wee misse him, how shall vvee keepe our word with Sander Bloodhound in Fleetstreete after dinner at the Foun­taine, hee's out of cash, and thou knowest by Cutters Law, wee are bound to relieve one another.

Let's scowre towards Coomb house, but if we misse him.

N [...] matter, dost see yonder Barne o'th left hand?

What of that?

Dost know the place to fetch it againe?

Away, let's spurre.

Spurre did her call her, have made Randals stand without pootes, in ferry pittifull pickles, but her will run as nimbles to Londons, as Creyhound after Rabbits, and yet now her remember what her Cozens talkt, was some wiser and some too, Randals heard talke of Parne upon left hand, and a prave bag with hundred pounds in round shil­lings Cod plesse us, and yonder was Parnes and upon left hands too, now here was questions, & demands to be made, why Randals should not rob them would rob Randals, her will goe to parnes, plucke away pords, pull out paggs, and shew her cozen a round paire of heeles, with aule her round sillings, marke her now.

The Rogue rise right, and has out stript us this was staying in Kingstone with our unlucky Hostesse, that must be dandled, and made drunke next her heart, she made us slip the very Creame o'th morning, if any thing stand augward, a woman's at one end on't.

Come, we have a hundred pieces goodyet in the Barne, they shall last us, and Saunder a moneths mirth at least.

Oh these sweete hundred pieces, how I will kisse ye, and hugge ye with that zeale a Vsurer does his bastard money, when hee comes from Church, wert not for them, where were our hopes, but come, they shall bee sure to thunder in the Taverns, I but now, just now I see pottle pots throwne downe the stayres, just like Serieants and Yeomen, one i'th necke of another.

Delicate vision.

Her have got her pag and aule by the hand, and her had ferrily thought in conscience, had not bin so ma­ny round sillings in whole worlds but in Wales, twas time to supply her store, her had but thirteene pence halfe [Page] penny in awle the worlds, and that her have left in her little vvhite purse, with a rope her sound py the parne, just in the place her had this: Randals will bee no serving mans now, her will buy [...]er prave Parrells, prave Swords, prave Taggers, and praue [...]eathers, and goe a wooing to prave comely pretty ma [...]ds, r [...]b Randalls, becat and her were ten dozens of coz [...]ns, Randals rob her, marke her now.

A plague of Friday mornings, the unfortunate day in the whole weeke.

Was ever the like sate, 'sfoote when I put it in I was so wary, though it were midnight, that I watcht till a cloud had mask't the Moone, for feare shee should have seen't.

Oh lucke.

A Gale of wind did but creepe ore the bottome, and because I heard things stirre, I staied, 'twas twelvescore past mee.

The pottle pots will sleepe in peace to night.

And the sweete clinkes.

The clattering of pipes.

The Spanish fumes.

The more wine boy, the nimble a [...]on, [...]non sir.

All to night will be nothing, come wee must shift, sfoot what a vvitty rogue 'tvvas t [...]ave, this faire thirteen pence halfepenny, and this old halter, intimating a [...]tly.

Come, come, vve must make friends.

There sirrah, there's his bond, runne into the Strand, s [...]xe weekes the [...]allow Chandler fetcht my hundred mark [...], [...]ent him to set him up, and to buy greate, this is his day, Ile have his bones fo [...]' [...] [...]se, so pray tell him.

But are a Chandlers ones worth so much Father?

Out Coxecombe.

Worth so much, I know my Master will make dice on them, then 'tis but letting Master Alexander carry them next Christmas to the Temple, he'le make a hundred marks a night of them.

Masse that's true.

And runne to Master Eare-lacks the informer, in Theeving lane, and aske him what he has done in my busi­nesse he gets aboundance, and if he carry my cause with one false oath, he shall have Moll, he vvill take her with a little, are yee gone Sir?

No forsooth.

As yee come by Temple-barre, make a steppe to'th Divell.

To the Divell father?

My Master meanes the signe of the Divell.

And he cannot hurt ye foole, ther's a Saint holds him by the nose.

Sniggers, what does the Divell and a Saint both in a signe?

What a question's that, what does my Master, and his prayer booke a Sunday both in a pew?

Well, well, ye Gipsy, what do wee both in a pew?

Why make a faire shew, and the Divell and the Saint does no more.

[...]'are witty, y'are witty, cal to the man o'th house, bid him send in the bottles of wine to night, they will be at hand i'th morning,—will ye runne sir?

To the devill as fast I can Sir, the world shall know who's sonne I am.

If she be quick, shee's with child, vvhosoever got it you must father it, so that you come o'th nicke, forthe wid­dow's quicke, there's a witty posie for you quick Widow▪

No, no, Ile have one shall savour of, of a sawe.

Why then 'twill smell of the painted cloth.

Let me see, a Widdovv vvitty.

Is pastime pretty, put in that for the sports sake.

No, no, I can make the sport, then an old man.

Mine Alminacke.

A prayer booke sir.

A prayer booke for devote beggers I hate, looke I beseech thee, Fortune now befriend mee, and I will call the plaguy whore in, let me see, sixe moneths.

Yes, tis he certaine, this is a businesse must not bee slackened sir.

Looke I beseech thee, wee shall have oat meale in our pottage sixe weekes after.

Foure dayes too late Sim, foure dayes too late Sim.

Plummes in our pudding a Sunday, plummes in our pudding.

Master bloodhound as I take it.

You are a stranger Sir, you shall be witnesse, I shall be rayl'd at else, they vvill call me devill, I pray you hovv many moneths from the first of May, to the sixt of November following?

Sixe moneths and foure dayes just.

I aske, because the last first of May, a noble gentle­man, one Antient Young.

I am the man sir?

My spectacles Sim, look Sim, is this Ancient Yong?

Tvvas Antient Young sir:

And is't not Ancient Young?

No sir, you have made him a young Ancient

Oh Sim, a Chayre, I know him now, but I shall not live to tell him.

How fare yee sir?

The better for you, he thanks you sir.

Sicke, sicke, exceeding sicke,

O'th suddaine, strange.

A qualme of threescore yeeres come over his sto­macke, nothing else.

That you beloved, you, who of all men i'th world, my poore heart doted on, whom I loved better then Father, Mother, Brother, Sister, Vncles, Aunts, what wood yee have, that you should stay foure dayes too late.

Nay, nay, I am Noble, fellow, very Noble, a very rocke of friendship, but, but, I had a house and barne burnd downe to the ground, since you were here.

How?

How burn'd aske Sim?

By fier, sir, by fier.

To build vp which, for I am a poore man, a poore man, I was forced by course of Law to enter upon your Land, and so for lesse money then you had of me, I was faine to sell it to another, that by foure dayes stay, a man should lose his blood, our liuings, our blood, ô my heart, ô ny head.

Pray take it not so hamons, weele goe to him. Ile buy it againe of him, he wonnot be too cruell.

A dogge, a very dog, there is more mercy in a paire of unbrib'd Bailiffes, to shunne all such solicitings, he's rid to Yorke, a very cut-throate Rogue, but Ile send to him.

A honest olde man, how it mooves him, this was my negligence, good Sim convay him into some vvarmer roome, and I pray, how ever Fortune, shee that gives ever with the dexteritie she takes, shall please to fashion out my sufferings, yet for his sake, my deceas'd Father, the long friend of your heart, in your health, keepe me happy.

Oh right honest young man Sim.

Sir, Blood. Have I don't well?

The deu'll himselfe coud not have don't better.

I tell thee an old sawe sirrah, hee that dissembles in wealth shall not want, they say doomes day is comming, but thinke you not an't, this will make the pot seeth Sim, [Page] good Sir talke no more, my mouth runnes over, Sleepe, wake, worthy begger, worthy indeed to be one, and am one worthily—how fine it is to wanton without afflicti­on, I must looke out for Fortunes, over againe, no, I have money here, and 'tis the curse of merit [...], not to worke, when shee has money: there was a handsome Widdow, whose vvild ma [...] j [...]alous husband died at Sea, let mee see, I am neere Black-fryers, Ile have o [...]e start at her, or else—

By my troth tis he Captaine Yongs soone, I have l [...]ved him even with languishings, ever since I was a girle but should I know it, I should run mad sure, what handsom Gentlemen travaire and manners makes, my Father begun to ye Sir, in a cup of finall Beere.

How does he pray?

Pretty well now Sir.

Mas 'tis small indeed—youle pledg me?

Yes sir.

Pray will ye tell me one thing?

What is't.

Which is smaller, this Beere, or your maidenhead?

the Beere a great [...]eale Sir.

I in qualitie.

But not in quantitie.

No?

Why?

Let me try, and Ile tell you.

Will you tell me one thing before you try?

Yes.

Which is smaller, this Beere or your wit?

O the Beere, the Beere.

In qualitie.

Yes, in quantitie.

Why then I pray keepe your quantitie of your wit, from the quality of my maydenhead, and yee shall find my maydenhead more then your wit.

A witty maydenhead by this hand.

Is my Mistresse ready for dinner?

Yes, if dinner be ready for my Mistresse.

Halfe an houre agoe man.

But prithe [...] sir, is't for certaine, for yet it cannot sink into my head, that she is to be married to morrow.

Troth, shee makes little preparation, but it may be she wood be wedded, as sh [...] wood be bedded, privatly.

Bedded call ye it, and she be bedded no better then heele bed her, she may lie [...]antaliz'd and eate wishes.

Pox on him, they say hee's the arrantst [...]. i er, we shall never live good day with him.

Wel, and she be s [...]ipt by threescore and ten, may she live sixescore and eleven, and repent twelve times a that's once an houre.

Set meate o'th board.

Yes.

Why doe's your fellow grumble so?

And are you grieu'd at that?

No, but my friends are.

What friends are grieu'd?

My guts.

So it seemes, you begon Clowne?

Yes, and shall conclude Coxecombe, and I be fed with herring bones, 'sfoo [...]e, I say no more, but if wee d [...]e want as much bread of our dany allowance, as wood dine a Sparrow, or as much drinke as wood foxe a Flie, I know what I know.

And what doe ye know sir?

Why, that there goes but a paire of sheetes, a pro­moter, and a knave, if you know more, take your choice of either.

O Mistresse, yonder's the mad gallant, Master A­lexander Bloodhound entred into the Hall.

Alas, nere a wench in towne could doo't hee's so nimble, I had no sooner opened the doore, but hee thrust in ere I was aware.

And how does my little handsome daintie, deli­cate, welfavoured, streight, and comely delicious bewitch­ing Widdow.

Tis pudding time wench, pudding time, and a daintie time, dinner time my nimble eyd witty one, woot be married to morrovv sirrah.

For once I be as merry as you are mad, and learne fashions, I am set you see Sir, but you must pardon Sir our rudenesse, Fridayes fare for my selfe, a dish of egges and a Rabbet, I lookt for no stranger faces.

Nay, nay, nay, two to one is extremitie—but as [...] was telling thee, I have such a husband for thee, so knowing, so discreete, so sprightly, fill a Cup of Claret, so; Admira­bly, in desires so excellently, Admirably deserving, that an old man, fie, fie, prethe—ha to thee.

Yes, and swell like a couple of gib'd Cats, met both by chance i'th darke, in an old Carret.

Look, looke, now ther's no feare of the wild beasts, they have forgot their spleenes, and looke prettily, they fall to their pasture, I had thought they had bin angry, and they are hungry.

Are they none of Duke Humsreyes furies, doe you thinke, that they devis'd this plot in Pauls to get a dinner?

Another Barre, this is the Cooke-maids leaving, ope the doore, and this is the daintiest dish shee has sent in, a Widgia in Welch sawce—pray lets make a merry day on't.

What doe her keepe open house, had her heard her was Widdovves that dwelt here, are you Widdowes good wo [...]ns?

Augle Randalls comes in very good times, you [Page] keep Ordinaries her thinke, what have you set a cat before gallants there?

They will eate him for the second course—these are suters to my Mistris sure, things that she sleights, set your feere boldly in, Widowes are not caught as maids kisse, faintly, but as Mastiffes fight, valiantly.

Is her so, I pray bid her Mistresse observe Ran­dals for valours, and prave adventures?

Troth sir here's none i'th house, pray make a ver­sue of necessitie, and drinke to her in this glasse of Claret.

Well, because her will make a great deales of ne­cessities of vertues, marke with what a grace Randals will drinke to her Mistresse.

Let him come, I have ever an English vertue to put by a welch.

'Sounds, was that her manners to take away Randalls cups?

Let her come, let her come, Randals will [Page] redeeme reputations her warrant her.

Redeeme your wit sir, first for you Sir, you are a stranger, and see you,—but you, fie Master Bloodhound.

Sounds, what doe Randals amongst ploodhounds, good Widdowes lend her an eare.

Ancient Young, how false our memories have plaid through long discontinuance, but why met here man, is Mars so bad a pay-master, that our Ancients fight under Cupids Banner?

Faith this was but a sudden start begotten from distraction of some fortunes, I pursue this Widow but for want of wiser worke.

A payre of a hundred of seepes, thirtie prave Cowes, and twelue dozen of Runts.

He has the morgage still, and I have a handsome sister, doe but meet at the Fountaine in Fleetestreete after dinner, ô I will reade thee a History of happines, and thou shalt thanke me.

Oh prave VViddowes, her vvill meete her there, he [...] know her times and her seasons, her warrant her, Ran­dalls will make these prave Gallants hang her selfes in those garters of willow Garlands apout her pates, marke her now, and remember.

You meane, 'tvvas worth more then, and that's another handsomely beg'd.

Yes, and men good benefactors, my best wishes wait on so sweet a Mistris—will ye walke?

Ile follow yee, woo't thinke on't soone at night, or not at all?

I wood not have my wishes wrong'd, if I should bring it about handsomely, you can be honest?

No, a smooth Gallant sir, doe not you faile to bee here soone at nine, still provided, you wil be honest, if I con­vey you not under her bed, throvv me a top o'th Tester, and say mee o [...] o'th way like a rusty Bilboe.

Enough, drinke that, fare [...]el, Widdovv, Fate, the Destinies, and the three ill favoured Sisters, have concluded the meanes, and vvhen I am thy Husband?

Doe but remember these crosse Capers, then yee pitter sweete one?

This dinner would have shewed better in bed-lane, and shee a tother side, holdeth her whole nest of suters play, vvhat Art decks the darke Labyrinth of a womans heart.

They are both a concluding on't yonder, to mor­row's the day, one vvedding dinner must serve both mar­riages.

Oh Sim, the Ancient, the delicate Ancient there's a man, and thou talk'st of a man, a good face & sparkling eye, a strenght body, a delicate hand, a cleane legge and foote, ah sweete Sim, there's a man worth, Maidenhead.

But I say, Master Eare-lacke the old man, a foote like a Beare, a legge like a bed-staffe, a hand like a hatchet, an eye like a pigge, and a face like a vv [...]ter Pigme, there's a man for a Maydenhead.

Oh looke, looke, oh alas what shall I doe vvith him?

VVhat, vvhy vvhat shall fifteene doe vuith sixtie and tvvelve, make a screene of him, stand next the fier, [Page] whilest you sit behind him, and keep a friends lips warm [...], many a wench vvod be glad of such a fortune.

Mol, come hither Mol, I hope Sim has discouer'd the project?

And to morrovv must bee the day Mol, both of a day, one dinner shall serve, we may have store of little ones, vve must save for our familie.

Good Sir, what rashnesse was parent to this mad­nesse, marry an old man— Eare-lacke the Informer?

An arrant vhore, to refuse Master Innocent Eare­lacke of Rogue-land, that for his dwelling, next that hee doth Informe novv and then against enormities, and hath bin blancketted, it may be pump't in's time: yet the vvorld knovves, he dos't not out of need, hee's of mighty meanes, but takes delight now and then to trot up and dovvne, to a­void Idlenesse, you vvhore.

VVhy, right Sir, and then 'tis but tickling you o'th forehead vvith her heeles, you are avvake againe, and ne're the vvorse man.

Ile tell thee an old sawe for't girle, old, say he be, old blad [...]s are best, young hearts are neuer old.

Gold is great Glee, gold begets rest, what fault is found in Gold?

Young, say she be yong, young Mutton's sweete, content is above Gold, if like an old Cocke he with yong Mutton meetes, he feedes like a Cuckold.

A very pretty pithy one, I protest, looke and Moll dee not laugh, shalt have a payre of gloves for thee, what leather do'st love?

Nay, 'tis a witty notable knave, he should never serve me else.

My Mistresse remembers her love, and requests you would endure her so much to your patience, as to reade that.

Love letters, love lies, do'st marke Sim, these Women are violent, Sim, whilst I reade the lie, doe you rayle to him upon the Brewer, sweare has deceiv'd us, and saue a cup of Beere by't.

I can make thee a hundred a yeere joynture wench, at the first indeed, I began vvith petty businesses wench, and here I pickt, and there I pickt, but novv I runne through none but things of Value.

Sir, many thoughts trouble me, and your words carry such vveight, that I will chuse a time, when I have nothing else to doe, to thinke on 'em.

By my troth, she talkes the vvittiliest, and I wood understand her.

Oh nimble, nimble Widdow, I am sorry wee haue no better friends, but pray commend me, tho in a blunt dry Commendations at the time and place appointed, I wonnot faile, I know she has a nest of suters, and wo'd car­ry't close, because she feares surprisall.

I must meete a friend i'th darke soone, let me see, we lovers are all a little mad, doe you and Moll take a turne or two i'th garden, whilest Sim and I goe up into the Gar­ret and device, the guesse come.

He's a little mad, and I had best hang him upon the crosse beame in the Garret.

Come Mol, come Molkin, wee'le even to the Ca­mamile bed, and talke of houshold stuffe, and bee sure thou remembrest a Trade.

Nay, an old Ape has an old eye, I shall goe before, and thou vvoo't shevv mee a Love-tricke, and locke mee into the Garden, butterflies, I will come discreetely be­hind Moll.

Out upon him, what a suiter have I got, I am sorry you are so bad an Archer sir.

VVhy, to shoote at Buts, vvhen you shou'd [...] prick-shafts, short shooting vvill loose ye the game, I a [...] [...] you sir.

Her minde runnes sure upon a Fletcher, or a Bow­yer, hovvsoeuer, Ile informe against both the Fletcher, for taking vvhole money for piec't arrovves, the Bowyer for horning the head men of his Parish, and taking money for his paines.

Possible [...]us cheated of a hundred pi [...]ces, A han [...]some halter, and the Hangmans wages pop' [...] in the place, what an acute vvitnesse we have in vvickednesse.

Here's a pottle of rich Cannary, and a quart of neate Clarret Gentlemen, and there's a Gentleman belovv, he sayes he is your Brother, Master Bloodhound, he appoin­ted to meete you here.

The expected thing that bought the Bristovv stone.

Send him up prithee, remember hovv it must bee carryed?

I am her Grandmother, forg [...]t not that by any meanes.

And pray remember that you doe not mump [...] as if you were ch [...]vving Bacon, and spoile all.

Yes, but those I [...]k [...] not, the [...]e are not they, Ile stay i'th next roome till my company come.

Oh hee tramples upon the bosome of a Taverne vvith that dexterity, as your Lavvyers Clearkes doe to VVestminster Hal upon a durty day vvith a paire of vvhite silke stockings, Brother Tim, vvhy novv y'are a man of your vvord I see.

Nay I love to be as good as my say, see brother, looke, there's the rest or your money upon the Ring, I can­not spend a penny, for I have ne're a penny left, vvhat are these, vvhat are these?

That beares the b [...]sh of [...]ing vpon her cheekes, whoseeyes are like a payre of [...]ing Twi [...]es.

But then to touch th [...]se lips—you stay too long sure.

Pish I tell you, I doe no [...], I know my time, pray what's her name?

But 'tis descended from the [...]cian steeme, the great tributie L [...] her [...]e, th [...] [...]ci [...]t [...]on is her reuerent Granham.

Niggers I haue read of her in the Mirr [...]r of Kaighthood.

Indeed but you shall not Sir, I went out early, and forgot to wash e'm.

Sir, I shall call it [...] [...]efie if you shall [...] to [Page] vouchsa [...]e to pledge me.

[...]oure or sixe, 'tis rich Canary, it came from be­yond the Sea [...].

I wi [...] doe no curtesie at this time Sir, yet for one cup I care not, because it comes from b [...]yond the Seas.

Now truly the Gentleman drinkes as like one Ma­ster Widgen a kinsman of mine.

I ha' heard of that Widgin, I ha' beene taken for him, and now I thinke on't, A cup of this is better then our foure shilling Beere at home.

Is it the law, that if a man drinks to no body, hee must drinke againe.

Why, then I will drinke to no body once more, because I will drinke againe.

Mee thinks this glasse was better then the to'ther Gentlemen.

Why then I pray giue me tother cup that I may drinke to some body.

Againe ye Witch? drinke to the young Gentle­wom [...]n.

Shee's a little shame fac'd, the deeper the sweeter for [...]ooth.

I'th next roome I haue seene and heard all.—Oh noble [...]ouldiers.

Here Boyes, giue vs some more wine. There's hundred Markes Gallants. 'Tis your owne. And doe but let mee beare on Office amongst yee. I know as great a matter has beene done for as small a summe. Pray let mee follow the fashion.

Well, for once take vp the money, Giue mee a cup of Sacke. And giue me your hand sir, and because our Flemish Corporall was lately choakt at Delph with a Flap­dragon. Beare you his name and place, and be henceforth call'd Corporall Codshead. Let the health goe round.

Round. And this goe not round. Some wine there Tapster. Is there ne're a Tapster i'th house?

My worthy friend, thou art Master of thy word, Gentlemen 'tis Auntient Young, y'are Souldiers, come come, saue cap, complement in cup. Prithee sit downe.

Why, l [...]t me see: but come in company: let's sit sir. True Souldiers scorne vnnecessary discourse, especially in Tauernes.

Kill him, and there be no more men in Christen­dome.

I know my Sister loves him, and hee sweares hee loves her,—and by this hand, it shall goe hard if hee have her not, smocke and all, brave excellent man, with what a strength of zeale wee admire that goodnesse in another, which we cannot call our owne.

Well, here's your Corporall, and you

can be quiet.

Looke and he have not in [...]const himselfe in a wood­den Castle?

Yes, yes, has taken wing, and your Brother's gone after him, to fight with him.

Thats well, he cannot in conscience but doe us the curtesie and kill him for us, come gallants, what shall wee doe? Ile never goe home to go to bed with my guts full of [...] shillings beere, when I may replenish them with [Page] Sacke,—Hay, now am I as lusty, me thinkes wee two have blew [...]eards, is there nere a wench to be had? Drawer bring us up impossibilities, an honest Whore, and a conscionable reckoning.

Ah whore, ô tempting, handsome Sir, thinke of a rich Wife rather.

Tempting handsome Sir, shee is not married is she Gentlemen?

A woodcock spring'd, let us but keepe him in this bachavalian mist till morning, and 'tis done.

Tempting handsome Sir, I have knowne a wo­man of handsome tempting fortunes, throw her selfe away upon a handsome tempting Sir.

Harke you sir, if shee had, and coo'd bee tempted too't, have you a mind to marry: woo'd ye marry her?

Pray give mee but a piece from you, Ile pay this reckning intoth' argaine, and if I have not a tricke to make it your owne, Ile give you ten for't—here's my witnesse.

There 'tis, send thee good lucke with't, and goe drunke to bed.

Do not you be too rash, for she observes you, and is infinitely affected to good breeding.

I wonnot speake I tell you, till you hold up your finger, or fall a vvhistling.

Come, weele pay at Barre, and to the Miter in Bredstreete, weele make a mad night on't, please ye sweete Ladies but to walke into Bredstreete, this gentleman has a foo [...]ish sleight supper, and he most ingenuously professes, it would appeare to him, the Meridian Altitude of his de­sired happinesse, but to have the table deckt with a paire of perfections, so exquisitely refulgent.

Oh, is it so, I have heard there be more changes in a womans heart in an houre, then can be rung up on sixe bells, seven dayes, well go thy wayes, little do'st thou think how thou shalt be betrayed, within this foure and twenty houres, thou shalt be mine owne Wife, flesh and blood, by Father and Mother, ô tempting hansome Sir.

But sirrah, can'st tell what my Mistresse meanes to doe with her suiters?

Nay, nay, I know not, but there is one of them I am sure worth looking after.

The witty man, the pretty man, the singing man, he has the dantiest dittie, so full of pith, so full of spirit, as they say.

Old ends, I am sure they are new beginnings with me.

Alas, the sight on's eyes enough to singe my little May denhead, I shall never be able to endure him.

[Page] Harke you Widdowes, Randals was disturb'd in cogitati­ens, about Lands, Ploughs, and Cheese presses in Wales, and becat her have forgot where her, and her meete soone at pright darke Evenings.

Oh haw, have her—but Randals was talke no Ducth, pray meete her in the Welch walke, was no Welch walke there?

Mas, was ferry true, was aule Shentlemen in Wales, her never saw her Shamber-maid, pray where was her Shamber-maid?

Can her make wedding pedd pravely for Randals, and Widdowes?

Sir, not to delay, but to debellitate the strength of your Active apprehension of my Mistresse favour.

Hearke in your eare, shee will have her nest fea­thered with no Brittish breed.

Zounds, was not Prittish so good as English?

Yes, Where ther's Wisedome, Witt, and Valour, but as amongst our English, wee may have one Foole, a Knave, a Coxecombe, and a Coward, shee bid mee tell yee, shee has seene such wonders come out of Wales in one shirt, y'are an Asse, and sheele have none of you

Augh, S. Tauie, Owen Morgan, and aule her Co­sins, was Widdow her selfe [...]ay so?

Good sir, let every circumstance make up one an­swere, take it with you.

And the R [...]mane answere is, the English goose Sir.

Sounds, her vvas kill novv, gog, and gogmagog, a whole dozen of shiants, make [...]oole of Randals, Randalls vvas vvisht to as prave match as widows vvas, know one Mary Bloodhound, [Page] was ha aule, when her father kicke up heeles, and becat though her never saw her, her will send her Love letters presently, get her good wills, and goe to shurch and marry, and her were eight and thirtie, two hundred and nine and fifty widdowes, marke her novv.

Pray goe to Algate, to my Sempstris for my ru [...]e, I must use it say too morrow, did yee bid her hollow it just in the French fashion cut?

Twas well, we have no other proofe in use, that we are English, if wee doe not Zany them, let Iohn goe with you.

But pray forsooth, how doe you meane to dispose of your suitors?

Shall I tell thee, for this thou hast given him this cure, and he is past care, for old Bloodbound the Saw-mong­er, I writ to him, to meet me soone at ten in the darke, vpon the change, and if I come not by ten, he should stay while twelue, intimating something mystically, that to avoid sur­prizalls of other Rivals, I meane to goe from thence with him to lye at his house all night, and goe to Church with him i'th morning, when my meaning is onely kn [...]very, to make my selfe merry, and let him coole his heeles there till morning.

And now have I a whimsey, newly jumpt into the coll of ingenious apprehensive, to sawce him daintisy, that for that, what thinke yee of the Gentleman that brought a a stoole with him out of the Hall, and sate downe at dinner with ye in the parler?

They say hee's an Ancient, but I affect not his C [...]llours.

Hee will minde you ere morning: troth Mistris There waytes a Gentleman i'th next roome, that hath a long time loued you, and has watcht for such an houre, when all was out of doores, to tell you so; and none being within but you and I, hee desires you would heare him speake, and there's an end on't.

And why were you such a foole to take his owne word?

Because all the witte I had cood get no bodies else.

But an honest man will neuer tell you hee's a knaue.

Well sir, your Mistresse dares looke vpon the ho­nest man.

And the honest man dares looke vpon my Mi­stresse.

Yet when I take young Bloodhound to a retired collection of scattered iudgement, which often lyes disioynted, with the confused distraction of so many: Mee thinks he dwells in my opinion, a right ingenious spirit, vailde meerely with the vanity of youth and wildnesse: he lookes mee thinks like one that could retract himselfe from his mad starts, and when he pleased turne tame: his hansome wildnesse mee thinkes becomes him, could hee keepe it bounded in Thrift and Temperance: but downe these thoughts, my resolue rests here in priuate,—But from a foole, a Miser, and a man too iealous for a little sweetnesse loue, Cupid de­fend me.

Pray prooue as you appeare a Gentleman. Why Iaruis?

Looke yee here's Iaruis haangs by Geometry, and here's the Gentleman. For lesse I am not that afarre off ta­ken with the Sainted praises of your wealthy beauty, your person, wisedome, modesty, and all that can make woman gracious, in this habite sought and obtayn'd your ser­uice.

These diamond pointed eyes but hither through, and you will see a young spring on't, but question times fayre ones.

They 'le confesse, tho with a blush they haue often found good wine at an old bush. My blood is young, and full of amorous heates, which but brancht out into these lusty veynes,

[Page] Let time and place then vvith Loues old friend oportunity instruct you to be wise.

'Las Sir, where learned you to catch occasions thus?

Of a Lawyers Clarke wench, that with sixe such Catches, leapt in fiue yeares from his Deske to his Coach drawne with foure horses.

Marriage a cloying meate, marry who thou woot to make a shew to shrowd thee from the stormes round headed opinion, that swayes all the world, may let fall on thee. Me Cozen? thou shalt call once in a moneth, or so: I'le reade false Letters from a farre distant Vncle, insert his commendations to thee, hug thy beleeuing husband into a payre of hansome hornes. Looke vpon him with one eye, and winke vpon thee with tother. Woodst haue any more?

The returne of Seruants, or some friendly visite will intercept vs now: reassume your habit, and bee but Iaruis till no morrow morning, I now by the potent truth of friendship, I will giue you plenty of cause to confesse I loue you truly, and strongly.

Now for old Bloodbound, I will meet you vpon the Change Sir, with a blinde bargaine, and then helpe your sonne to a good penny-worth: this night shall be all mirth, a Mistris of delight.

Nay, nay, nay, marke what followes, I must bring her home [...]'th darke, turne her vp to bed, and heere she goes to Church: my Cloake sirrah.

'Tis a very darke night sir, you will not haue a cloake for the rayne.

I am going to steale the Widdow from I know not how many.

Nay, then I let your cloake for the raine alone, and fetch you a cloake for your knaverie.

I charge yee let not one bee vp ith'house, but your selfe, after the clocke strikes ten, nor a light bee stirring, Moll, Tricke up the greene bed-chamber very dainti [...]y.

And well remembred Moll, the keyes of my Compting house, are in the left pocket of my hose above i'th wicker chayre, looke to them and haue a care of the blacke boxe there I have often told thee of, looke to that as to thy Maydenhead.

Out Rogue shall not I bee at infinite expence to morrow, fast too night, and pray for me.

An old diuell in a greasie Sattin doublet, keepe you company.

I say, the Sattin doublet you will weare too mor­row, will be the best in the company sir.

That's true, thats true, I come Widdow, I come VVench.

Oh sweete Sim, what shall I doe to morrow, to morrow must be the day, the dolefull day, the dismall day, alas Sim, what dost thou thinke in thy con-science I shall do with an old man?

Nay, y'are well enough served, you know how your rother not an ho [...]e agoe, lay at you [...]o have the Ancient, one that your [...]eeth [...]e'ne water at, and yet you cry, I cannot love him, I wonnot have him.

I coo'd willingly marry him, if I might doe no­thing but looke on him all day, where he might not see me, but to he with him, alas I shalbe undone the first night.

That's true, how will you goe to bed else, but re­member hee is a man of Warre, an Ancient, you are his co­lours, now vvhen he has nimbly display'd ye, and hansomly foulded ye up against the next fight, then we shall have you cry, ô sweete Sim, I had beene undone, if I had not beene vndone.

Nay, and then the olde fellow would mumble mee to bed.

A bed, a Bawd with two teeth would not mumble Bacon, so then hee so sparing you, shall weare nothing, but from the Brokers at second hand, when being an Ancients wife, you shalbe sure to flourish.

Prithee goe in and busie the old man with a piece of Reynard the Foxe, that he may not disturbe us, for at this houre I expect Ancient Yong, and my Brother.

Well, I leave you to the managing of Ancient Yong, while I goe in and flappe the olde man i'th mouth with a Foxe tayle.

Look, look, & he have not brought him just upon the minute, ô sweete silken Ancient, my minde givesme [...], thee and I shall dance the shaking of the sheetes together.

Now, you Mistresse fig- [...]aile, s [...]he Wind come about yet, I ha brought the Gentleman, doe not you t [...]ll him now, you had rather have his roome then his compa­ny, and so shew your breeding.

Novv fie upon you, by this light y'are the wic­ked'st fellow, my Brother but abuses y [...]u, pray Sir goe o­ver againe, yo'ue a hansome spying wi [...], you may send more trueth over in one of your w [...]ll pen'd pamphlets, then all the vveekely nevves we buy for our penny.

Sfoote thou shalt stay longer, we'le stay her heart her guts out.

What canst thou see in him thou unhansome [...]ous thing, that merrits not above thee?

Has hee not a hansome body, streight leg'd, a good face.

Yes, but his lips looke as if they were as hard as his heart.

Doe b [...]t stay a [...]i [...]t [...]e Moll, prithe Moll, thou knowest [...]y Father has wrong'd him; make him amen [...]s and marry him.

But birds of a feather will fly together, and you and he are seldome asunder.

Why you young witch, call your elder brother [...]oole; but goe thy wayes, and keepe thy may denhead till it grow more deseruedly de [...]pi [...]ed, then are the olde base bootes of a halfe stewed Pander: Leade a Welch Morris with the Apes in hell amongst the little deuills,—or when thou sha [...]t lye sighing, by the side of some rich foole,—remember thou thing of threed and needles, not worth three pence halfe penny.

Too late I feare I ha'be [...]ne too coy, you are to be married then sir?

But let it not be any way distast [...]ull vnto you, that thus I tri'd you, for your brother perswaded mee to pre­tend loue to you, that he might perceiue how your minde stood to marriage, in that (as I guesse) hee has a husband kept in store for you.

But I' [...]e haue no husband of your prouiding, for alas now shall haue the old man whether I will or no.

I haue such a stripling for thee, he wants one eye, and is crooked leg'd, but that was broke at Footbale.

Ha'him and his riches good sir, y'are to be mar­ried in earnest.

In earnest; why, doe yee thinke men marry as Fencers sometimes fight, in iest?

Shall I shew her Mistresse Elizabeths Letter I snatcht from thee?

Goo [...] brother let me see't, sweet brother, dai [...]ty brother, hony broth [...].

No in [...]eed, you shall not s [...]e't, sweet sister, dainty [...]ister, hony sister.

Oh good si [...], since so long time I haue loued you, let me not dye for your sake.

Thinke of Besse; thinke of Besse, 'tis the better match.

Ye wicked brother, Indeede I loue you better, then all the Besses in the world, and if to night I shift not into better fortunes, to morrow I am made the miserablest wi [...]e marriage and misery can produce.

Alas Sir, I am to mary an old man, a very old man, trust mee, I was strange in the nice timerous temper of a Ma [...], I knovv [...]'tis against our sexe to say we love, but rather then to match vvith sixty and ten, threescore and ten times I woo'd tell you so, and tell them ten times over too, trueth loves not vertue with more of vertuous trueth, then I doe you, and wonnot you love me then?

And lye vvith thee too by this hand VVench, come let us have faire weather, thou art mine, I am thine, there's an end of the businesse, this vvas but a tricke, ther's the projector.

And now th'art my sweete Sister, I know the old man's gone to meete with an old wench that will meet vvith him, [...]r Iarvis has no juice in's brains, and vvhile I i'th meane time, set another wheele a going at the Widowes, doe thou soone about ten, for 'tis to bee very conveniently darke, meete this Gentleman at the Nags head corner, iust against Leaden-hill, wee lie in Lime-streete, thither he shall carry thee, Accomodate thee daintily, all night with Mistris Dorothy, and marry thee i'th morning very Methodically.

But I haue the charge of my Fathers keyes, where all his writings lye.

How all things jumpe in a just equivalencie, to keepe thee from the thing of threescore and ten, didst thou not see my Morgage lately there?

But yesterday my father shewed it me; & swears if I pleased him wel, it should serve to [...]mp out my portion.

Prove thine old Dad a Prophet, bring it with thee Wench.

But novv at's parting, hee charged me to have a care to that, as to my Maydenhead.

Why, fine have thy Maidenhead and that into the bargaine, thy c [...]arge is perform'd, away, get thee in, forget not the houre, and you had better fight under Ancient Yongs colours, then the old Mans standard of sixty and ten.

Ha, ha, ha, Grandmother, Ile tell thee the best jest.

Iest kether, here will bee jesting of all sides I thinke, if Iarvis keepe his word.

Sirrah, whilest thou wert sent for into the next roome, up came our second course, amongst others in a dish of blackebirds, there lay one, that I swore vvas a Wood­cocke, you were at Table Captaine.

That I was, and our brave mad crew, vvhich for my sake you vvere pleas'd to make vvelcome.

Pish, vve'le have as many more to morrow night, but still I swore twas a Woodcocke: she swore ' [...]vvas a backe-Bird, [...]ovv vvho shall vve be tryed by, but Serieant Sliceman, Captaine Carveguts Cozen here, a trifling vva­ger, a matter of the reckoning was layd, the Serieant svvore tvvas a backe-Bird, I presently payd the reckoning, and she clapt of the brest presently, and svvore 'tvvas a Wood­cocke, as if any other wood passe after the reckoning vvas paid.

Made sure before such a mad crew of vvitnesses, sirrah, Granham, al's agreed, Sue's—.

I you may see, hovv you men can betray poore maids.

Do you heare Corporal, yonder's Serieant Slice­man, and the brave crew that supt with us have cal'd for three or foure gallons of wine, and are offering money.

How, prithee Granham looke to Dab, doe you two but hold them in a talke, whilst I steale downe and pay the reckoning.

That's it I would have man, weele make them all drunke, they'le never leave us else, and still as it comes to a crowne, Ile steale downe and pay it in spite of their teeth, remember therefore that yee make them all drunke, but be sure you keepe me sober to pay the reckonings.

There wee must meet soone, and bee married to morrow morning, Sim, is't not a mad brother?

VVhy one Master Randals, a Welchman, I have had such a fit with him, he sayes he was wisht to very wealthy Widdow, but of you he has heard much Histories, that he will marry you, though he never saw you, and that the par­boyl'd Aetna of his bosome, might be quencht by the con­sequent pastime, in the prittish flames of his prittish blood, he falutes you with that love letter.

Mas, has writ it in Welch English, we had beene spoil'd else, for want of an interpreter, but thus he begins, Mistresse Maries.

Ever while you live, 'tis your first rule in Weleh Grammers, that her forsake Widdowes, and take Maids, was no creete wonder, for Sentlemen ever love the first cut.

But not o'th Coxecombe, hee should have put in that.

The Coxecombe followes by consequence, marke else. I Randall cracke, of Carmaerden, doe love thee Mary Ploodbounds, of H [...]ds-ditch, dwelling Aulgate, and Pishops gate, iust as betweene hawke and buzzard.

And that her loves Maryes so moustrous, yet ne­ver saw her, was because her heare her in all Societies so ferry fillanously commended, but specially before one Ma­ster pussie Constables of her Parish, who made her selfe halfe fo [...]' [...] by swearing by the Wines, that Maries woo'd be monstrous good Marriages for Randals.

If Maries can love a Prittaine of the plood of Cad­walader, which Cadwalader, was Prutes great Crandfather. Randalls was come in proper persons, pring round sillings in her pockets, get fathers good will, and go to Surch a Sun­day, with a vvhole dozen of Welch Harps before her, so her rest her constant Lovers, Randall William, ap Thomas, ap Tavy, ap Robert, ap Rice, ap Sheffery, Cracke.

Why, he sayd, these all rest your constant Louers, whereof, for manners sake, hee puts himselfe in the first place; he will call here presently, will you answere him by Letter or word of mouth.

If hee bee sicke with the loue of mee, prithee tell him, I cannot endure him, let him make a vertue of necessi­tie, and apply my hate for's health.

I, but Ile haue more care of the Gentleman I war­rant you, if I doe not make my selfe merry, and startle your mid-night meeting, say Sim has no more wit then his God­fathers, and they vvere both Head-men of this Parish.

The old man has money enough for her, and if you marry her, as if your proiect take, you may, sheele take you more then a man.

Trough cannot you tell that, this is the trueth on't, she wood be married to morrow, to one Ancient Yong a fel­lovv she cannot endure, novv she sayes, if you coo'd meete her privatly to night, betvven ten & eleven, iust at the great Crosse-way, by the Nags head Taverne at Leaden-hall.

Was high, high pumpe, there as her turne into Graces streete.

Theres the very place, now because you come the vvelcomest man in the world to hinder the match against her mind vvith the Ancient, there she vvill meete you, goe vvith you to your lodging, lie there all night, and bee mar­ried to you i'th morning at the Tovver, assoone as you shall please.

Becat her vvill goe and prepare Priests presently, looke yee Simkins, there is a great deale of round sillings for her, her vvas very lucky sillings, for came to Randalls shust for all the World as Fortune vvas come to Foole, tell Maryes, her vvill meete her, her vvarrant her, make many puppy Fooles of Ancients, and loue her very mon­strously.

Ha, ha, ha, so, so, this midnight match shall bee mine, shee told mee shee vvas to meete the Ancient there, Ile bee sure the Ancient shall meete him there, so I shall Iye a bedde to laugh, to thinke if hee meete her there, hovv she vvill bee startled, and if the Ancient meete him there, hovv hee vvill bee cudgelled, bevvare your ribbs Master Randall.

I vvonder vvhere this young rogue spends the day, I heare hee has receiued my hundred Marks, and my [Page] aduantage with it and it may be, hee went home since I went out. [...]uis was with me but euen now, and bid mee watch, and narrowly, for feare of some of my Riuall spies: For I know shee has many wealthy Suitours, all loue mo­ney. This Iaruis is most neate in a loue businesse; and when we are married because many mouthes much meate, I will requite his curtesie, and turne him away; the Widdowe's all I looke for.—Nay, let her fling to see I haue her pos­sessions, there's a Saw for't.

But now and shee speake shee spoiles all, or if hee call her by my Mistris his name, hast thou no: trickes to enioyne them both to silence till they come sure.

Phaw, that's a stale one, she shall speake to him in her owne accent, hee shall call her by her owne name lea­uing out the Bawd, yet she shall violently beleeue he loues her, and hee shall confidently beleeue the same which hee requires, and she but presents.

Here I haue discouered him, 'tis he by his coughes, remember your instructions, & vse few words, for though till to night you knew it not, and will he married early in the morning, to preuent a Vintners Widdow, that layes clay me to him.

Aske her if shee wood liue sir, shee walkes a loose yonder.

Nay, amongst all of you, weele cozen one great one, that had layd a pernitious plot this night, with a cluster [Page] of his roaring friends to surprize her, carry her downe to the water side, pop her in at Puddle-dock, and carry her to Graues end in a payre of Oares.

Hee's a Knight abounding in deedes of charity, his name Sir Nicholas Name.

By my troath we shall pop him fairely, where is shee? where is shee?

Ha, doe you not perceiue a fellow walke vp and downe muffled yonder?

That fellow has dogd vs all the way, and I feare all is frustrate.

He shall not touch you, onely I remember this af­ter-noone, this Fellow by what he had gathered by caues dropping, or by frequent obseruation, ask'd me priuately if there were no meeting betwixt you and my Mistris to night in this place, for a Widdow hee said hee knew you were to meete.

Now I hansomly threw dust in's eyes, and yet kept the plot swift a foote too, Itold him you were heere to meete a Widdow too, whom you long loued, but would not let her know't till this after-noone, naming to him one of my Aunts, a Widdow by Fleete-Ditch, her name is Mi­stris Gray, and she keepes diuers Gentlewomen lodgers.

To turne the sent then, and to cheat Inquisition the more ingeniously.

Bee sure all this night studably in the hearing of a­ny that ye shall but suspect to be within hearing to call her nothing but Mistris Coote.

Yes, you may put her in so, but bee sure you cohere in every particle, with the precedent Fallacie, as that you haue loved her long, tho till this day, and so as I did de­monstrate.

But how and she woo'd say she is not Widdovv Come, and that she knowes no such woman, and so spoile all?

Trust that vvith her wit, and my instructions vvee suspected a spie, and therefore she will change her voice.

One thing more, and yee meete presently, mine Aunt has had mine husbands, tell her youle hazard a limbe and make the tenth.

Prithee let me alone, and Sir Nicholas were here himselfe, he shoo'd sweare 'twere thine Aunt.

Goe forwards towards him, bee not too full of pratle, but make use of your instructions.

Shee changes her voice bravely, I must tell thee true Widdow, I have loved thee long time, looke how the Rogue lookes, but had never the wit to let thee know it till to day.

I like thy dwelling vvell upon the Fleete ditch.

A pretty vvholesome Ayre Sir, in the Summer time.

Ile home vvith her presently, some stayes up i'th darke.

Foole and he haue any priuate discourse with her, they discouer themselues one to another, and so spoile the plot, no trick, no by no meanes sir, to hazard your person with her, the bold roague may come vp close to discouer her to be my Mistresse, and recouer her with much danger to you.

And a sword sixe foote in length, I'le carry her home for you, therefore not a light be stirring; for I know your Riualls will watch your house, Sim shall shew vs the chamber, weele conduct her vp ith dark, shut the doore to her aboue, and presently come downe and let you in be­lowe.

There was neuer such a Ieruis heard off, bid Si [...] to be carefull, by the same token, I told him he shood feed to morrow for all the weeke after: good night Widdow, Coote my man stayeth vp, we will bob Sir Nicholas brauely. Good night sweet vviddow Coote. I doe but seeme to part, weele meete at home wench.

Goe you with me, so, so, I will Cage this Cookow, and then for my young Madcap, if all hit right, this mor­nings mirth shall crowne the Craft o'th night, follow mee warily.

I warrant thee Iaruis, let me alone to right my selfe into the garbe of a Lady: Oh strange to see how dreames fall by contraries, I shall bee coacht to morrow, and yet last night dream'd I was carted: prithee keepe a little state, goe Iaruis.

Was ferry exceeding darke, but here is high pumps, sure here is two co [...]pie of crosse wayes, and there was the street where Grace dwells, one hundred pound in mornings in round shillings, and vvife worth one thousand ere her goe to bed. Randalls fortunes comes tumbling in, like Lawyers Fees, hudole vpon huddle.

Oh sweet Antient, keepe thy word, and winne my heart, They say, a Moone-shine night is good to runne [Page] away with another mans wife, but I am sure a darke night is best to steale away my Fathers daughter.

Oh, are ye come Sir? there's a boxe of Land and livings, I know not what ye call it.

Nay, nay, and wee talke, we are undone, doe ye not see the Watch comming up Gracious-streete yonder, this Crosse way was the worst place wee could have met at, but that is yours, and I am yours, but good Sir doe not blame me, that I so suddenly yeelded to your love, alas you know what a match an't I should have to morrow else.

I'th morning wee shall bee Man and Wife, and then, alas I am undone, the Watch are hard upon us, got you backe through Cornehill, Ile runne round about the Change, by the Church corner: downe Cat-eaten streete, and meete you at Bartholomew Lane end.

Cats streete was call her, sure Randalls was wrapt in mothers smocke.

Keepe streight towards Bishops-gate, I am de­ceived and I heard not somebody run that way.

Stay Sir, here's somebody come from Aldga [...]e-ward?

Alas, I shall bee hang'd for staying so long for this Cuffe.

Let the Constable come before mee and hee please.

For my Mistresse Ruffe, at her Sempstris Sir, she must needes use it to morrow, and that made mee stay till 'twas done.

With one Mistris Wagge in Black-Fryers, next to the signe of the Feathers and the Foole sir.

Oh, I know her very well, make hast home, tis late. Come, come, let's backe to Gracechurch, all's well, all's well.

I scapt the Watch at Bishopsgate with ease, there is some body turning downe the Church corner towards the Exchange, it may be Mistris Mary.

Are yee heere againe, you haue nimbly followed me; vvhat said the Watch to yee?

As wee goe, I'le tell you such a tale of a Welch wooer, and a lamentable Loue-letter.

Yes, Sim told mee of such a Rat, and where hee lodges, I thought I should haue met him here.

Here, out vpon him:—But the Watches vvalke their station, and in few words is safety, I hope you will play faire, and lodge mee with the Mayd ye told me of.

She stayes vp for vs Wench, in the word of a Gen­tleman, all shall be faire and ciuill.

Zounes was another Fyer Drake walke in Shange, weele run packe, mas Maryes haue saued her labours, and vvas come after Randalls, Maryes vvas Randall that loues her mightily Maryes.

Well now, her vnderstands Maryes loues Ran­dalls [Page] so mighty deale.

Maryes shall goe vvith Randalls to lodgings, and that her Father vvorke no diuorcements, hee vvill lye vvith her aule t'night, and marry her betimes next mor­ning, meane time her vvill make Lands and Livings fast.

How Father? this is a mistake sure, and to fa­shion it fit for mine owne following, I vvill both question and ansvvere in ambiguities, that if hee snap me any vvay, I may make my selfe good ith tother, and as hee shall disco­uer himselfe, I'le pursue the conceit accordingly: but will yee not deceiue mee, many mindes are many mens Alma­nacks, the dates of your desire's out, wee serue for nothing but to light Tobacco.

And 'tis but venturing a maydenhead, if the worst come to the worst, it may come backe vvith ad­uantage.

Tis a fine time of night, I shall thanke her for't, 'tis past eleuen I am sure. Fetch, the prayer-booke lyes within vpon my bed.

I wonder vvhat this Gentleman shood bee [Page] that catcht me so like Iarvis, hee saye hee has fitted old Blood [...]ound according to his qualitic—but I must not let him da [...]y too long upon my daily company, Lust is a hand-woolse, who with daily seeding, one time of other takes a suddaine start upon his benefactor.

A neate man, a proper man, a welfavoured man, a ha [...]ome man.

Alas, I had no power to speake, his very lookes are able to make a woman stand as still as a Millers horse when hees lading, ô he comes, he comes.

As Citizens wives doe into Maskes, whe­ther I woo'd or no nay, nay, doe not doubt the discre­tion of my constitution: I have brought nere a groat in my bosome, and by this hand, I lay under thy [...]d, with a heart as houest, and a blood as cold, as had my sister lay near top—will ye have me yet?

Vnc [...]uill, and lay so tame while you set up your foote upon the bed, to u [...]ie your shooe, such another word, I will uncivillize that injured civilitie which you so scurvily slander, and reward you with an undecencie proportionable to your understandings, will yee have mee, will you mar­ry mee?

You, vvhy tomorrow morning I am to be marri­ed to your Father.

What, to sixtie, and I know not hovv many, that will lie by your side, and divide the houres with cou [...]hes, as Cockes doe the night by instinct of Nature.

Even since I was begotten, I was borne to [...], I must have thee, and I will havethee, and this house is mine, and none of thine.

Oh Mistris, the saddest Accident i'th streete yonder.

You must pardon my boldnesse, into your bedde-Chamber, there is a Gentleman slaine in a fraye at the doore yonder, and the people wonnot bee perswaded, but that hee that did it, tooke this house, there is the Con­stable, Church-wardens, and all the Head-men of the Pa­rish, be now searching, and they say they will come up hither to your bed chamber, but they'le find him, Ile keepe them downe as long as I can, I can doe no more then I can.

I ha beene under thy bedde by this hand this three houres.

Pray get you downe then, they will all come up, and find you here and all, and what will the Parish thinke then? pray get you downe.

No, no, no; I will not goe downe novv I thinke on't.

Why, what doe you meane, you will not bee so uncivill to unbrace you here?

By these Buckles I will, and what they will thinke on't—

Good Sir, I will off with my doublet to my very shirt.

Pray sir have more care of a Womans repu­tation.

Have a care on't thy selfe Woman, and marry mee then.

Shood they come up and see this: what coo'd they thinke, but that some foule uncivill Act of shame had this night stain'd my house, and as good marry him as my name lost for ever.

Will you have mee afore tother sleeve goes off?

Doe, hang your selfe, I will not have you—looke, looke, if he have not pul'd it off quite, why you won­not pull off your bootes too will you?

What, and stand naked in a Widdowes Cham­ber.

As naked as Grantham steeple, or the Strand May-pole by this spurre, and what your grave Parishio­ners will thinke on't?

Alas, they are at the staires foote, for Heavens sake Sir.

This is the last time of asking, they come up, and downe goe my breeches, will you have me?

VVhy then kisse mee upon't, and yet there's no cracking your credite, Iarvis is come in, Iarvis.

I have kept my promise Sir, y'are catcht the olde one.

No body but Iohn, for sooth, recovering a Tobacco snuffe, that departed before supper.

A woman cannot have a hansomer cloud, then a haire-brain'd Husband: I will be your Cooze, hee shall bee my Cuckold.

Come, Come, put on Sir, I have acquainted yee both vvith your Fathers intended marriage, [...]th morning you shall certifie him very earlie by Letter, the qualitie of your fortunes, and returne to your c­bedience, and that you and your wife, still concealing the parties, vvill Attend him to Church, Iohn and Ile bee there earely, as commanded by my Mistresse, to discharge our attendance: about goes the plot, out comes the proiect, and these's a wedding dinner drest to your hands.

As pat as a fat Heire to a leane Sharke, wee shall hunger for't, honest Iarvis, I am thy bed-fellow to night, and to morrow thy Master.

Pish, Come, come, fine men must use fine VVo­men thus, tis fit, plaine trueth takes Maids, VViddovves, are wonne with vvit.

You shall weare hornes with vvisedome, that is in your pocket.

Come Iohn, carry your hand steddily, the guesse droppe in a pace, doe not let your wine drop on't.

Tis as I told thee, Master Alexander, thy Mistresse [Page] eldest sonne will be here.

Rose, I pray burne some pitch i'th Parlour, 'tis good against ill ayres, Master Alexander will be here.

I am up before yee sonne Earelacke, will Ancient Young bee here with a rich Wife too? thy Mistresse is not stirring yet sirrah, Ile hold my life the Baggage slipe to thy Mistresse, there they have e'ne lockt the doore to them, and are tricking up one another: oh these women! but this Rogue Tim, hee lay out to night too, he received my hun­dred Marke, and I feare is murdered: Trusse, Trusse, good Iarvis.

He has bin a wooing Sir, and has fetcht over the delicat'st young Virgin, her Father died but a weeke since, and left her to her marriage, five thousand pound in mo­ney, and a parcel of Land, worth three hundred Perannum.

Nay, nay, 'tis like, the boy had ever a captiva­ting tongue to take a woman—ô excellent money, ex­cellent money, Mistresse of my devotions, as if my Wid­dowes estate is little lesse too, and then Sander, he has got a monied woman too, there will be a bulke of money, Sim is puling sir, I may tell thee, one that by natures course, cannot live long: [...]other, a Mid-night sur [...]et cuts off, then have I a tricke to cozen both their Widdovves, and make all mine, ô Iarvis, what a monied generation shall I then get upon thy Mistresse?

Ile in and get some m [...]cke for thy Mistresse, to quicken her this morning, and then to Church in earnest, 'tis done, where is Sir Nicholas Nemo and his words that watch so for her? Ha, ha, ha, al's mixt with honey, I have mirth, a sweete young Widdow and her money, ô that svveete Saint, cal'd money.

Ioy I, and a 100 pound a yeere in a black boxe to the bargaine giuen away i'th darke last night, to we know not who, and to be heard of wee know not when. Sfoote and this be ioy, wood we had a handfull, some slice of sor­row to season it.

Beleeue me Sir, I thought I had giuen it you, he that tooke it call'd me by my name.

Alas, I know not, I enioyned him silence seeing the Watch comming, who parted vs.

If this were not Master Randalls of Randall Hall that I told yee of, I'le be fleaed.

Be maskt, and with-draw a while, heere comes our Dad.

Why Master Busie, asleepe as thou standst man?

Some horse taught him that 'tis worth god a mercie.

I watch all night, I protest Sir the Counters pray for me, I send all in Cut and long taile.

I sent twelue Gentlewomen, our owne neigh­bours last night, for being so late but at a womans labour.

Alas Sir, a woman in that kind you know must ha' helpe.

What's that to me? I am to take no notice of that, they might haue let her alone till morning, or shee might haue cryed out some other time.

Nay, nay, Master Busie knowes his place I warrant yee.

Sonne Alexander welcome, and Antient Young to, I haue heard all.

You must pardon the meritable rudenesse of the Gentlewomen Sir, in not vnmasking, they entreated mee to informe you: there are some ith house to whom they wood by no meanes be layd open.

But for my selfe, I am now your most obedient vertuous Alexander.

Obedience, hang her vertue, let her starue; has she money? hath she money?

Two Chests of siluer, and two Vtropian Trunks, full of gold and Iewels.

Come, come, weele to Church presently: Pri­thee Iaruis whilst the Musicle playes iust vpon the delici­ous close, vsher in the Brides, the Widdow, and my Moll.

I tell yee true Gallants, I haue seene neither of them to day. Shall I giue him the lye?

They are both lockt vp itaith, trimming of one another. Oh these vvomen, they are so secret in their bu­sinesse, they will make very Coxcombs of vs men, and doo't at pleasure to, 'tis well said friends, play, play, where's Sim?

They haue Rose the Cooke-mayd without, but they say you haue Mistris Mary within.

Marie's aboue good-man Blockhead. Call my sonne Earelack, bid him for shame make hast.

I am so busied, you must beare with me Gentle­men, they leaue it all to me here.

But I will goe charge some of the inferiour guesse in the Kings name to fill some vvine.

No, no, good Master Busie, wee will first vsher the brides.

Where's Moll Sim, the Widdow Sim, the dainty Widdow?

There is no Moll, there is no dainty young Wid­dow, but a damnable Bawd we found a bed with a face like an Apple halfe rosted.

Iaruis y'are a Roague, a Cut-purse Iaruis, runne Sim, call my sonne Earelack, hee shall put her into the Spi­rituall Court for this.

Nay, has put her in there already, for wee found him a bed with her.

Ha Boyes, the Informer and the Bawd, the Bawd and the Informer haue got a deuill betwixt them Gentle­men.

Nay Sir, the iest was, that they should fall asleepe together, and forget themselues, for very louingly wee found them together, like the Iemini, or the two Winter mornings met together: Looke, looke, looke where they come Sir, and Iaruis betweene them, iust like the picture of knauery, betwixt fraud and leachery.

Tim is a puling Sirrah, I may tell it thee, a mid­night surfet too may cut off Sander, I'le cozen their Wiues, make all mine owne, and then, Oh Iaruis what a moneyed generation shall I get, vpon this vviddow Coote that hath two teeth.

Did wee bring you to Musick with a mischiefe Earlack? thou art a Goat, thou hast abus'd the best bed in my house, I'le set a Sumner vpon thee.

Bloodhound, thou art a Vsurer, and takest forty in the hundred, [...]e informe against thee.

Alas Sir, I was meerely [...]nuied, betray'd by Iar­uis, but as I haue beene Bawd to the flesh, you haue beene Bawd to your money; so set the Hare Pye against the Goose g [...]ble [...]s, and you and I are as daintily matcht as can be sir.

Sim, runne to the widdow Wagges, tell her wee are both abu [...]'d, this Iaruis is a [...]ugler, say.

I can saue Sim that labour Sir, I assure you the wid­dow is married to your sonne Alexander, and as a confirma­tion she is come her selfe to witnesse i [...].

[...]our faire young daughter is wife to this Anti­ent, who is come likewise to witnesse it.

The plaine truth is Master Bloodhound, I would entreate you to keepe the kennell, the younger dogge be­ing of the better sent, has borne the game before yee.

We haue clapt hands on't Sir, and the Priest that shood haue married you to her, is to marry her to me, so sister, talke for your selfe.

Ha braue tricks and conceits, can yee dance Ma­ster Earelack?

Ha, ha: the old man's a little mad: but thou art not married Moll?

Yes indeed Sir, and will lye with this Gentleman soone at night: doe you thinke I wood chew Ramme mut­ton, when I might swallow Venison, that's none of Venus documents Monsieur Dottevill?

[...]ox of that Venus, s [...]ee is a Whore I warrant her.

And were not you the tother Iugler with Iaruis in this, hey passe and repasse.

Good Sir be satisfied, the Widdow and my sister sung both one song, and what was't, but Crabbed age and youth cannot liue together. Now wee perswaded them, and [Page] they coo'd not live together, they wood never indure to lie together, this consequently descended, there was the Antecedent, wee clapt hands, sealed lippes, and so fell unto the relative,

This was your bargaine upon the Exchange Sir, and because you have ever beene addicted to old proverbs, and pithy Sawes, pray let mee seale up the mistake with one that will appeare very seasonably.

You, a new fangled fowler, came to shew your Art i'th darke, but take this trueth, you catcht in trueth a Cookow for't.

Heyday, wee are cheated by the rule [...] faith, now sirrah, they say you are to be married too.

Yes indeed Father, I am going to the busines, and Gentlemen all, I am come whether you will or no, to muite ye all to my marriage, to this Gentlewoman, who though a good face need no Maske; shee's maskt to make a man thinke she has a scurvy face, when I know [...] has a good face, this is S [...]cke to them and out of their Element.

But sirrah, setting aside marriages, where's my hundred Marke you went to receive?

Hum, upon such a match of mine, talke of a hun­dred Marke, this is to drinke ignoble [...]onre shillings beere, a hundred Marke, why your Lawyer there can cleere such a trifle in a Tearme, and his Clients ne're the better.

What is shee, heere's my Brother knowes [...]hat shee is well enough, come hither Dab, and bee [...] knowne unto you, her name is Lindabrades, descended from the Em­perour Tribatio of Greece, and halfe Neece, some sixe and fiftie descents to most unvanquisht Claridiana.

Who's this? poxe on't, what

makes that Bawd yonder?

I am very much deceiued, and I did not send this Gentlewoman very drunke tother night to'th Counter.

I tell thee pratling Constable, 'tis a lye, Linda­brades a Drunkard?

This is a common whore, and you a cheated Cox­combe, come hither, you rotten Hospitall, hung round with greasie Sattin, doe not you know this Vermine?

I winckt at ye Sue, and ye coo'd have seene me, there's one I [...]rni [...], a rope on him has juggled mee into the sudds t [...]o.

Now I know her name too, doe not you passe un­der the name of Sue shortheeles, minion?

Goe looke Master little wit, will not any woman thrust her selfe upon a good fortune, when tis offered her?

Sir Marmaduke, you are a Iustice of peace; I charge ye in the Kings name, you and Master Ambodexter, to assist me with the Whore and the Bawd, to Bridewell.

By my troth and we will, by that time we shal have an excellent stomacke by that time dinners ready.

Now, now, you looke like a melancholly dog, that had lost his dinner, where's my hundred Markes now you Coxecombe?

Truely father, I have payd some sixeteene recko­nings, since I saw you, I was never sober since you sent mee to the Devill yesterday, and for the rest of your money, I sent it to one Captaine Carvegut, he swore to me his Father was my Lord Maiors Cooke, and that by Easter next, you should have the principall, and egges for the use indeed sir.

Oh Rogue, Rogue, I shall have egges for my money, I must hang my selfe.

Not afore dinner pray Sir, the Pyes are almost bak't.

And Maryes now vvas won, and all her pusinesse done, and Randalls now was runne, her haue made all sure I her warant her.

Looke, looke, yonder's the conceit, the [Page] mistake happened upon last night.

Cot plesse her Father Ploodhounds, Randals have rob'd Ancients her warrant her.

Augh was her so, will heare an Noble Prittaine, hovv her gull an English Flag?

Oh noble Randalls, as her meete by Nags-head with Mayres Plood, prave.

Hearke in your eare, you must deliver that boxe to mee.

Hearke in her tother eare, her will not deliver her, and her were nine and forty Ancients, and five and fourescore Flaggs.

Let my foe write mine Epitaph, and if I teare not my birth-right from thy bosome?

Gentlemen, there's Alegant i'th house, pray set no more abroach.

Nay let her come with her packe of needles, Ran­dalls can poxe and bob, as well as her, her warrant her.

Her will not restore her, 'twas Mary Ploodhounds gave her the box, Randals have married Mary Ploodhounds and gul'd Ancients, marke her now.

Marke him good Sir, me thinkes he sayes hee has married Mary Bloodhound.

Zoun's, make Tog of Randalls? come out here Maries.

Looke here was Mary Ploodhounds. Enter Maid & Hugh. now, I pray tumble downe of her Mary-po [...]es, and aske her father plessing?

And here is Mary Ploo [...]hound, my chollericke shredde of Cadwallader, married to this Gentleman, who has a hundred a yeere dangling at your girdle there.

I pray Mistresse are you married to this Gentle­man?

By sixe [...]'th morning forsooth, hee to [...]ke mee for Mary Ploodhound, having it seemes, never seene any on's be­fore, and I being something amorously affected, as they say to his Welch ditties, answered to her name, lay with him all night, and married him this morning, so that as he tooke me for her, I tooke him as he vvas forsooth.

Shee meanes for a foole, I am faine to answere for you.

Ha, ha, ha, Cupid this twentie foure houres has done nothing but cut crosse capers.

Doe ye heare, sir Bartholomew Bayard, that leape before ye looke, it will hansomly become you, to restore the Boxe to that Gentleman, and the Magnitude of your desiree, upon this daintie, that is so amoro [...]slie taken vvith your ditties.

And yet becat her doe not neither, Randalls will prove her selfe Prittaines borne, and because her understands Ancients was prave fellowes, and great Travailers, there is her boxe for her.

And because was no remedies, before her aule, here vvill Randals embrace Maries, and take a pusse—

Do'st thou know the Gentleman that whisper'd to thee?

Oh wondrous vvell, hee bid mee call him Coz, and [...] it hansomely.

Know all, this Gentleman has to obtaine his Lust, and loose desires, seru'd me this seven moneths, under the shape and name of Iarvis.

I must cast my skinne; and am catcht—why Coz.

Some witty tricke I warrant thee, prithee dis­patch him presently, that vve vvere at Church.

First, then know ye for trueth sir, I meane never to marry.

And for a trueth sir, know you, I never meane to bee your Whore.

He is not dead Sir, hee had it spread a purpose, he is in England, and in your house, and looke: doe ye not see him?

By my troth Master Wag this was a waggs trick indeede, but I knew I know yee, I remembred you a mo­neth agoe, but that I had forgotten where I saw you.

I knew you were a crafty Merchant, you helpt my Master to such bargaines vpon the Exchange last night: here has beene the merriest morning after it.

My Pitchers broke iust at the Well head, but giue me leaue to tell you Sir, that you haue a noble Wife, and indeed such a one as wood worthily feast the very dis­cretion of a wise mans desire, her wit ingeniously waytes vpon her vertue, and her vertue aduisedly giues freedome to her wit, but because my marriage shall seriously pro­ceede, I wed my selfe Sir to Obedience, and filiall regu­larity, and vow to redeeme in the duty of a sonne, the affe­ction of a father.

Becat was as well spoke as Randall her selfe cood talke.

All is forgotten now my best sonne Alexander, and that my wedding want no good company, I inuite you all.