Act 1. Scene 1.

MAdam, welcome ashore.

Thanks, noble Sir.

The like to you all, Gentlemen. What, melancholly, Mr. Trustall? Come, come, though y'are altogether a stranger in this Countrey, yet let not your unacquain­tance therewith too much discompose your spirits, or disturb your rest: y'are remov'd but two degrees from your native habitation, and there's but little difference between the Climates. The generality of Dublin's Inhabitants may justly boast of as great a measure of civility as the greatest pretenders thereunto elsewhere; only their losses and crosses has so refin'd their wits, that they are become the best oecono­mick Polititians.

Sir, 'tis not so much the remembrance of my native soil, as the losse of a fair promising fortune; together with the leaving behind me my dear Wife and Children, that thus dis­compose me, leaving my dissipated thoughts in a continued ex­tafie.

The consideration hereof would disswade the most censorious from blaming your dejection. However, be of good comfort, though the world has faln out with you, I wu'd not have you therefore be revenged on your self, or take pet, and be miserable in spight.

[Page 2]

Sir, I am sensible that I merit blame, but not the least pitty; since my sufferings are the sole effect of my overmuch (foolish) credulity, occasioned by my greediness of trade: grasping at every motion of credit, I thought to oblige and en­gage all.

Never to come neer you after.

Woful experience inform'd me so, for now do I find their names in my debt books, meerly as so many memoran­dums of my folly, never to be cancel'd.

Hang all sad thoughts, extasies, and distracting re­membrances (say I) let's drink a glass of Sack and drown 'em all therein. Since we know none that will give us our welcome to Ireland, lets e'ne do't our selves.

Well said, faith Boy, let's away then to the next Tavern. Here's money lads, and bills of Exchange too, which wee'l exchange for Sack: We cannot want, for when we have spent all our English moneys, here's Spanish and French, more than these Ram-crested Citizens know what to do withal. It shall go hard but our wits shall put in for a half share among 'em.

Now Sir, I have time to thank you, for your ci­vility aboard; truly I knew not what to have done without you; you stood to me in my weaknesse, we women are trou­blesome sickly things at Sea.

Save you Gentlemen. Came ye out of England?

The Sun has not run six minutes, thirteen seconds since we landed.

I pray Sir, what Country man are you?

I've been so long a Traveller, I don't justly know.

And it may be not very well understand what you say.

What d'ye make of me?

By your language, you seem a rabbinical Christian; by your gesture, an Aegyptian-French Magician.

But I pray Gentlemen, what news at London?

My gaul hath overflown its banks, and so irritated my animosity against your dissimilar abjurgating similitudes, that I am loth to give your plush Jacket any other than brush­ing satisfaction.

[Page 3]

If you do, pray Sir let it be in English.

Novelties (you would say) according to Courtly ex­pression, or novel as the French has it, but news according to the Vulgar. Some there is though not much, let me see this is Wednesday, or as the great Mogol calls it—

If this be your way of telling news, I shall sooner hear thereof from my friends at London.

Well, I'le condescend then to the imbecility of your veterane capacity. A Saturday night last, I sup'd with Dick-Shallow in the Strand, (for he and I are so intimately acquaint­ed, that we are never asunder.) A Monday night I came to Holly-head, where I found these Gent.

The expedition of your journey seems to me very strange Sir.

You wou'd not think so, had you but seen me fly through the air. I tell you my horse is so extream swift in his motion, that winged Pegasus is but a dull Asse to him.

I wou'd I cu'd see this wonderful swift Animal.

Have you brought him o're with you Sir?

D'ye think that my brain-pan instead of guts, is ple­nified with obfuscosities? though I venture him at land, I'de not hazard such a treasure at Sea.

This is a long parenthesis. You were about to tell the Gentleman some news.

'Slife tis right; why, then to be short, London's Lon­don now.

That's without doubt; but have you no stranger news to relate?

Have but patience, and I shall gradually inform your curiosity. First then, Houses and Shops are so dear in London, that some Shopkeepers are forc'd to sell their wares in the Country.

I believe so, and their wearing cloaths too.

The Mercers and Booksellers are deeply in law about the Fee-simple of Ludgate, O 'tis disputable which shall carry it. As for Newgate that's to be let.

And so it may stand, for I know not who wou'd wil­lingly take it, but thy grounds for this conceit?

Why, the doors were fast lockt up.

[Page 4]

I wonder how thou got'st out then, unlesse thou hast a body as penetrating as a spirit.

And I saw a bill upon 'em.

That may be, a Doctors pocky bill, or a pocky Doctors bill; why, art thou so ignorant, to be guilty of so gross a mi­stake?

Thou art as blind as a Polebeg Oister, not to see a well digested conceit of mine therein. But to proceed: younger Brothers never rackt their wits and inventions so much as now, to supply their necessary expence. The Ladies are grown so insatiate, as that they are not content without seven or eight baudy Pentioners, whereby they can hardly purchase provocatives enough to render 'em capable of the of­fice of a Stallion. False Dice wo'nt avail neither, for the De­vil has taught even the Phanatick to be a Gamester. The Sea and the Pox has swept away one half of the Cock-neighs, and the other half expect to end their daies by hanging like plum­mets to a line, and are in hopes when wound up, to go to Heaven by Clockwork.

What an asse was I, that I could not think of this; well, since 'tis not my invention, I'le go and acquaint all the Grave-makers in the Town, that there's one has brought in an innovation, which may prove destructive to their profession; for which I hope they'l immediately digg him a grave, shall at least reach to the Anti-podes.

Breaking's now a la mode, and that makes this son of a Costermonger in the fashion: (to Contriver) add to him Bankrupt and Trustall, and they'l make a leash of Knights of the burning Pestle, that are come into the Western parts for strange adventures. This here is coutriving to drein St. George's Channel, being so dangerous to sea-men in Winter time, and when 'tis done, he is to have a Patent for the sole transporta­tion of Boggs and Laughs of Irish growth into forreign parts.

But Sir, y'ave lost the main subject of your discourse viz. the famous and now most glorious City, London.

No such matter; there are Cities in Terra incognita that I have seen nay and been drunk in, (there I lie, for now I remember my self, they drink nothing there but Coffee and Chocolate.)

[Page 5]

But what of them?

I say that they for Architecture do as much excel Lon­don, as my horse that I told you of, is to be prefer'd before a gelding of fifty pound price.

You are a Traveller I perceive then.

I am so, 'tis novelty I solely take delight in, which makes me no where a constant resident.

I believe so, for he will stay in no place longer than he can be trusted.

Speak once more, and down goes thy brazen head. No Sir, my aim therein was to learn diversity of languages, that thereby I might at will pick-lock the treasury of know­ledge therein contained: and out of the manners of each na­tion, extract somewhat excellent for my peculiar observation and imitation: what progresse I have made herein, let my carriage and language expresse it.

Travel I confesse in joys so many worthy priviledges, that the hazard and labour that accompanies it, should not in the least deterr us from it: for we are not so to indulge the body, as to starve the understanding. This is the ready was to improve an imature judgment. But instead hereof, some after a vast expence, return at length only metamorphosed from English Asses, to French Apes.

Enough, enough Sir, let's go to the Tavern. The knowledge that this Gentleman has of the City, will inform us where's the best wine. Come old Sir John, you'l favour us with your company.

What Tavern d'ye pitch on? the London Ta­vern?

No, no, we have had too much to do with London Taverns already.

Why then, the Feathers.

Act 1. Scene 2.

Once more (my fair Cassandra) the blest sates have breath'd upon my hopes, and blown those sparks into a blazing flame, which lay conceal'd in the dark embers of your life-extinguishing absence, now I find the sun-shine of your presence, thawing the congeal'd icinesse of my heart, and makes it spread like the Marigold, tending it's course to your motion. Fairest (and most worthy of that epithite of all your sex) be not cruel to me, because nature has been kind to you: let not your beautif [...]l prerogative tyraunize, but ra­ther let it's sweet influence be communicative. What say you Lady, can you love?

As yet I know not how to answer you, men are prone to promise that in the height of their amorous sancies, which they ne'er intend to perform: and we poor silly eredulous maidens are too too oft caught with such alluring bates of fair promising pretences, I know not why you should desire me not to be cruel, when 'tis the proper nature of your whole sex to be guilty thereof: otherwise, you wou'd not thus continu­ally beleaguer us, and if you cannot obtain a fair surrender, you'l attempt the storming of our maiden Castles.

Madam, let me be exempted out of that number, since my only battery shall be loving Artillery, perswasive argu­ments. There shall be no Soldiers listed under my command, whose strength or policy you may fear in the least, as dissimula­tion, flattery, equivocation, false oaths, mutual enemies to us both. My desires are honest, my intentions reall, and my re­quests legal, what then shou'd hinder the crowning of our loves?

Soft Sir, let not your confident hopes o're run your reason and discretion, y'are in my opinion too hot upon the onset, and such commonly come off with the losse of one mem­ber [Page 7]or other. Be advised therefore, and let time which tries all­things, try also the reality of your affection, to whose test let me leave you for a while.

Delays to me are but slat denials: a long grace suits not with a sharp stomack: It's their subtilty thus to hold us in suspence, the more to inflame our desires. Methinks I could now as willingly hate every part of her sex, as formerly I lov'd she whole for her sake, but that I am partly assur'd my Mo­ther's a woman.

Moistere, here is one beating de dore, wou'd make speak for dy shelf.

Yet I cannot but love her, her sweet Idea is too deep­ly rooted in my heart, so easily to be pul'd out; never did a­ny cies behold a fairer object, shee's now the sole and conti­nual subject of my cogitations.

O yea, between me and God achree, my Moistare will make mad for my shelf. Upjack and supjack; [...]hoo fuato de Deole ale thee.

No I must smother the ripe sallies of my inflam'd de­fires, and study what it is to be mart again, and how much these admired pieces of imperfection fall short of his merit. Whilst I was scouring the Mountains and skipping the Boggs, not spa­ring the very spawn of rebellion, I had none of these qualms. I cu'd have then driven a score or two of these white cloven Devils, without pity or regard. But since Mrs. Peace came ac­quainted with us, she has perswaded us to change our Head­piece for a soft Pillow, the ground (covered with the spangled Canopy of Heaven) for a down-bed, and that's naught too without a wench. Great Mers assist me, and conjure this Devil love out of me.

By my Gossops hand, and my Faders shaddle, Kilpha­trick will be mush fear by and preshently, to see my Moistare make conjuration. Arra Moistare by St. Sonday, 'cis ill kind for dy Faders shild, to be making speech wit dy shelf, and no body, Be me fet and be, I do hate de De-vil, as I do Olivers sou­jer, and if he come presently, my shelf will run away. Arrahall.

Patrick.

Sha, sha, tatuggemi Moistare.

What's the matter?

Dere is one wu'd fain be speaking for dee.

Act 1. Scene 3.

And is it possible Sir, that you are old Peregrine's son, the East India Merchant? for your Fathers sake (whose memory I honour) command me wherein I may be serviceable to you; let me request you to be no stranger to my house.

Thanks is the least I can render you Sir, for this great favour.

If my heart speak not in my tongue, let my name be blasted with perpetual ignominy.

What ever others speak malevolently of fortune, I must proclaim her constant in her propitious smiles on me. Though I have travel'd from Pole to Pole, I ever found some civil, even among the barbarous.

Mr. Bankrupt, sure I should know you Sir, I've been acquainted with the name, and not unlikely your self.

Sir, my name is so common every where, that 'tis no great wonder if y'are mistaken in the knowledge of me.

But I shall easily convince you that I am not mistaken by particularizing where you liv'd. Were not you a Colour­man in Corn-bill, London?

Heaven grant a does not betray us.

I confesse I was ever a man of a good colour, and cu'd colour well what I did. But I know not your meaning Sir. Now had I rather been in St. Georges Channel in a great storm, than to have met with this man.

Wou'd I were employ'd by the King for the finding out Obrazeele to rid me of my present fears.

Sir fear not that my knowledge of you, shall prove detrimental, but rather tend to your future security.

I'me glad 'tis come to that, I was just at my wits end.

And so was I too, I lik't him not at first sight, 'a was so forward to be acquainted with us.

Being then confident of your fidelity, I shall commit to your charge a secret.

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Which you may be confident I shall keep safe.

Trade failing, and my creditors too hasty to receive, what my debtors were too slow in paying me, I was necessita­ted to fly from perpetual imprisonment. All that the sudden­nesse of my departure wu'd permit me to take, I've brought hi­ther; upon which slender basis, I intend to raise the structure of a future livelyhood, This Gent. Mr. Trustall, is a fellow-suf­ferer with me in the same condition.

Nay Gentlemen, since ye have made Mr. Thrivewell your Confessor, 'a shall be mine too; I'le promise you Sir, I stay'd in London so long for my own pleasure, that my Creditors had like to have made me stay a little longer for theirs.

Faith Gentlemen, I suspected no lesse, though com­mon civility wu'd not permit me to vent my thoughts. I re­joice at your escape, 'tis enough that you have your liberty; for 'tis such an instrument that if you make good use on't, 'twil procure you a being any where; What think you of me? I was never brought up to any Trade, yet live handsomly; I confesse I was born to land, and enjoy'd it so long, till I was weary on't, and then was never at rest, till out of that dirty lump, I had extracted a pure and portable Elixir. In short, to free my self from that trouble & vexation that are the inseperable compa­nions of Lands and Tenements, I sold 'em.

The monies I have long since spent, yet want not; the Earth's large, and has enough, (and to spare) to supply the wants of all her industrious children. He that has wit, (I think needs no plow; the apprehension of which perswades me, not to be con­fin'd to any place. My great Grand-father Adam, (Emperor of the whole world) left me something every where, and I find it truly paid me where e're I come.

I must needs crave your pardon for my abrupt leav­ing you, I have businesse of concernment (which I had almost forgot) that requires me, and I hope we shall henceforth be no strangers to each other,

My Masters, we have trifled away too much time al­ready, 'twere very requisite we redeem what's lost, by making treble use of the present. Preferring employments will neither proffer nor prostitute themselves, unlesse we court them with labour and expence; as for my part (according to the proverb) omnem lapidem movebo, not leave a stone unturned, 'till my de­fires [Page 10]by my endeavours are arrived at the Cape of good hope.

Mr. Contriver, though you are as much a stranger to this Country as we, yet I look upon you to be better skilld in projecting: your advice therefore, what course were we best to take?

As I'me a Gentleman, if you'l take my opinion with you, I'me clearly for the second course, but believe me 'twere best for you to take some speedy course, lest e're long, a red Her­ring make up all the courses in your dinner; if you'le consult where's the best Sack, how to procuve a handsome Girl, and a good noise of Musick, (they'r best together) I'le be of your counsel, otherwise I shall leave you to your worldly thoughts.

Sir, you may be much deceived in your conceited happinesse, though fortune hitherto has look'd smilingly up­on you, don't therefore vainly imagine, that she doats on you as her Minion. Woful experience has forc'd her chiefest favo­rites to confesse, that she is nunquam stabilis, and by taking no more than she gave, leaves 'em in a condition far more misera­ble than e're she found 'em.

I value neither the strumpets love nor hatred, I'me proof against the worst she can inflict on me; what e're it be, equo animo feram. Adversity shall not depress me so low, as to make me forget what I was, nor prosperity exalt me so high, as to slight my friend.

First Sirs, let's provide us convenient lodgings, that done we may talk of our business at leasure.

Let's about it then; but what's become of Phantastick, Hic & ubique, and Mrs. Hopewel? tha've given us the slip.

They desir'd to be excus'd, being gone to procure Mrs. Hopewel a lodging.

And I warrant you they intend to take up their quarters with her; 'twas cunningly plotted.

Act 1. Scene 4.

In a strange Country! all strangers too! no acquaintance! no kindred! four hundred miles from home, and a woman too! what condition is more uncomfor­table than mine? Alas! me thinks I cu'd take pleasure in my tears, and with sharp blustring sighs, blow sweetnesse upon my sorrows: But stay, I'le not grow desperate, but recollect my thoughts, and play bad cards at the best advantage; I will im­plore aid from Heaven, and study how I may become a favorite to each Deity; pluck up my failing spirits, and preserve my disconsolate and despairing self with comfortable hopes and expectations. Nature took pains in forming me beautiful, and age has not so much impair'd it, but that there's enough still to attract both love and pity from any brest that is amorous. Why may not I then follow the presidents of thousands of our sex, that in the ebb of their prosperities, have angled with their wits (baited with their beauties) in the swift streams of affe­ction, whence they have drawn up large and rich fishes, with­out breaking the honourable line of their reputation. That I am a Wife 'tis too certain, but here are none that know it; therefore will I conceal it, and act the part of a Widdow, yet never wrong my Husband. Time cannot but furnish me with acquaintance, and when I find my self courted by a person considerable, I'le meet his flames with pretended affections, so far as shall strengthen his perseverance, yet still maintain the principle of my own integrity. Enter Phantastick and Hic & ubique.

What my fellow Traveller? How is it now? what think you of Ireland?

In truth Sir, I know not, but I hope well still.

Gramercy wench, keep in that mind, and the more to [Page 12]encourage thee, thou shalt never want the benefit of man or money, whilst I am furnisht with either.

I thank you, good Sir, I wish I may deserve your kindnesse.

Want! by this hand she shall not want; Lady, be­believe me here's money enough, and when this is spent, ne're fear but we'l have more; all which, and my self, are at your service, command either, or both together. I have the spirit of a Gentleman, and I must drink Sack.

By no means Sir, you have been too lavish already, and this Gentleman likewise; I shall beg your pardon, tis time to repair to my lodging.

Faith then, Madam, we'l wait upon you thither.

I wud not lose that honour, nor become guilty of so grand an absurdity, as to neglect it, for the best Jewel in Queen Dido's Cabinet; no Madam, tis early yet, and before we mew up our selves in our lodgings, we'l take a walk, and recreate our selves with the various objects of the City; and as you view it, take notice of what you like best; I'le procure it— here's heavy Gold, and a light heart boys— ha—honest Hic, what saist thou to't?

I say, spend it all quickly, and then you'l have a light pocket too.

Thou put'st me in the mind of a common saying here, that those that come hither are not in a probability of thriving, til they have spent what English money they brought with them, if this be true, I'le make all the hast I can.

Nay, rather than you should be too much put to't, Ile help you, that you may the sooner sit down in the predicament of bettering your condition.

You invent this discourse, I conceive, only to make your selves merry.

Faith we are the sons of mirth and pleasure; delight and handsom Ladies (such as yourself) are the only Load­stones of our desires. We adore no Deities but Bacchus and Venus. Let the Usurer fall down and worship his bags, groan­ing under the weight of 'em: Let the Soldier fight for honour till his forward limbs be drencht in blood, by the sword of his conquering Enemie; Let the Schollar quarrel in Logical Ar­guments, pickt out of Ramus, till he break Priscians head. Let [Page 13]us drink Sack, which will make us conceit our selves to have that which they so strenuously content for; to the obtaining of which let's lose no time.

Act 1. Scene 5.

Mr. Bankrupt, you are much mistaken in your o­pinion of Dublin; by that time you have been here as long as I, you may experimentally know the contrary.

You have good cause to think the best on't, however Sir, as having gotten a good estate in't.

I may thank a good careful Wife for't; though I say't, she's handsom too, and yet I dare say, honest withall. A merry Grig, to give Guests content. When I came over first, I knew not what to have done without her; for, by waiting a great while for a very beneficial employment, which I was pro­mised by this great man and 'tother, all my money was gone, then cu'd I not stoop to be a Drawer, that was so lately a Ma­ster, at length my wife had taken a house unknown to me, and I know not how it came to pass, got so much credit as to fur­nish it befitting lodgers. In a short time all our rooms were fill'd with Gallants; and to accomodate them better, we kept a cup of very good Beer, as also a bottle of Wine. Then cu'd I ride abroad, and stay a month together, yet still the trade went on at home; and such a one it was, that it quickly rais'd me monies to purchase this Tavern I now live in, well furnisht with wine; but fortune's not alike favourable to all, according to that old saying.

Non cuivis homini contingit adire corinthum.

Few women make manifest by their lives, the intents of their creation, that is to be an help to man, and that's it makes me the more admire your wise. I've heard of many that have undone their Husbands, but few that prefers the welfare of 'em, before the indulging of their own luxurious (and often lustfull) appetites. I cu'd wish my own con­dition did not prompt me to say what I do.

[Page 14]

I have a Wife ('twere well, if I never had any) who lives, I fear to be a continual thorn in my side. What I ga­ther'd she scatter'd; yet durst not reprehend her for't, till 'twas palpably known, she admitted others to her embraces be­sides my self. Perceiving and fore-seeing my downfall, she hastens it by the taking what cash she cu'd, and left me to be devou­red by my merciless creditors; had not sudden flight (as I told you) prevented it.

I pitty your condition, and do wish I knew any way that might now be a support unto you, for I assure you this is a place wherein 'tis no easie matter to borrow money, nay, or be trusted long for meat and drink; Provision indeed is cheap, because money is scarce; yet good liquor is dear, 'cause there are so many that will pawn their cloaks, but thei'le have it; and much good may do 'em; for my part I shall ne're fear a scarecity thereof, since ther's almost as many Ale-houses, as good fellowes; to be short, those that live heer, are all old Sol­diers, and such you know, fight cunningly. 'Tis a great over­sight me thinks in the English Gentry, in sending their Chil­dren into forreign parts, to learn wit and manners, whereas it were far more expedient to send 'em hither; for here they may so learn to live, as to live any where: And after seven years aboad in this country, they need never fear being troub­led with the failing Sickness.

Sir, I doubt your discourse savours more of wit, than truth. But how wu'd you advise me to secure my self from my debts in London? As for protection, by reason of the many a­buses occasion'd by 'em, they are cald in, I hear.

However fear not: Ther's a great Gulf man betwixt you, and your creditors.

I but these letters of Atorney, I fear 'em more, than the lark does the hobby.

You trouble your self to no purpose.

But is't not usual for such letters to be sent over, the witnesses being sworn in Chancery.

Such a thing may be, but then ther's a remedy; if e're it comes to that, repair to me, and I'le shew you the hole, that I my selfcrept through upon the like account.

[Page 15]

You have much eas'd me of my fears. But still I'me in a labrynth of cares, how I shall live, since the currant of my money is but small, and will soon be wasted, without some rivolets of supply. Well, I must pinch this carcass, as much as e're I pamper'd it. O London, London! The very naming thee doth disturb me, and the fixing of my thoughts thereon, almost destracts me.

Indeed Mr. Bankrupt you'r too blame to complain, thus in vain; what can't be cur'd, must be indur'd. Be of good comfort. Dum spiro spero, you see as old as I am; I have not forgot all my latine.

O Sir, your long absence from that famous City, hath made you forget i'ts stately building, pleasant walkes, with a hundred delighting places for pastime; wherein all pleasure is Epitomiz'd and contracted. How oft have I there plung'd over head and ears in all sorts of delight, feasting my senses with those things, that are most suitable to each! But I'le ne're think on those dayes, since I never expect to enjoy the like.

Bravely resolv'd, and to begin, I think you were best to dispose of those fine Cloaths, that saw some of those fine dayes, lest they shu'd put you in mind on 'em again; thei'le you two or three good Bandle suites, with lasting Woolen stockings, which will be much more convenient for this Country weeping weather, you must expect to find here little, other than rany or windy, and the reason is according to some Rabbyes opinions, because the windy God Aeolus, and phlegmatick Luna are in contention, whither the one shall make it his Court, or the other her pispot. The natives yeild sub­mission to the God, for which the goddess punisht 'em with an hereditary disease, called the fundamental thorow-goe-nim­ble. I'me sure I have been troubled with it four or five dayes— your pardon—your pardon Sir

If his Wife were to look for him now, she might quick­ly find him out by the scent

Act 1. Scene 6.

Whither shall I fly for refuge? what Sanctuary can protect me from this pursuing shadow, which like some ill Genius still follows me, I fear, to the utter ruine of my rest? My antipathy against him is so strong, that rather than admit of his love, I cu'd be content to court some hedge-born slave, whose raggs and rudeness render him a fit companion for swine and dunghils. And yet I know not why, love seldome gives a rea­son for what a does. Methinks his embraces are like the cir­cling of Snakes, his voice like the howling of a Wolf, and his smiles like the grinning of a Monkey.

Well overtaken Lady. ( she offers to go) Nay, be not so hard harted as to leave me thus, who loves you dearly.

Pray forbear Sir, the bias of my thoughts run other­waies; therefore give me leave to enjoy the benefit of my freedom, which shu'd I loose (but as yet it lies in my power to preserve) I shu'd account my self most miserable.

You shall not loose, but enlarge it; for you shall enjoy a man, the bounty of whose affections shall dayly multiply your happiness. I'le be your Guardian, and defend you from every storm of aproaching injury.

My fears—

What?

Nothing, if you and love ne're come near me.

Wu'd you be so uncharitable as to live in hate?

No, by my Virgin-whiteness, I've charity for all men; but was never yet fond enough to give away my self.

'Tis common to your sex.

And may be proper for me hereafter, but as yet I could never see that man I cu'd love so well.

Is there no hopes for me then?

Truly Sir, I think none.

[Page 17]

Why then did you give me hopes, when you told me you wu'd leave me to the test of time?

That was but to stop your importunity.

How long will you leave me to that re [...]?

For ever.

Say you so? — This is not the way ( aside) — come Lady, I will —

Do what Sir?

Make you my Bride.

But I say, you shall never.

And to begin I must —

Must what?

Kisse you, Lady.

Pray forbear Sir.

Introath I must.

Truly you must not, ( kisses her) fie Sir, I was never ac­quainted with such rudenesse and rumbling before—If you'l not be civil, Ile cry out, and make your credit suspected. Pray Sir believe me, I swear I cannot love you.

I do — and know I am not such a fool, to be pas­sionate in love with a Statue: I value not your disdain; and do not think your immaginary beauty is able to make me pule, whine, and exclaim against Heaven. Alas, you have no Virtue, but what mans fond conceit and feigned praises invests you withall; I confesse y'ave all subtilty enough, by which you maintain and keep up your good estimation among men: The height of your wisdom consists in I, and No, and you must be accounted solid and prudent, though you cannot speak three words of sense, provided y'ave obtained the gift of Silence; and you must be continent by all means too, because y'ave the Art of concealing your deeds of dark­nesse; so temperate, as if your bodies required not eating; forbearing in the presence of men, whetting your stomacks upon their appetites, to feed Cormorant-like in private. Wine is inflaming, and flies up into the face; and there­fore y'are only for sips, till you come among your Gos-sips, and then you can drink pottle after pottle, with a small Cawdle or two, that contain gallons a piece; and being elevated, you talk of things that do'nt concern ye: Having overgorg'd your selves, you pretend you are not well, and so [Page 18]go to bed. Lastly, so cleanly, that you wu'd perswade us you evacuate no excrements.

I can endure no longer: farewell Sir, this discourse wu'd have better suited with a Bear-garden, exclaiming a­gainst some Apple-woman for not selling twelve a penny.

Oh! have I toucht your Copy-hold? now am I suffi­ciently reveng'd; I must study to forget her: yet notwith­standing I have so much inveigh'd against her sex, my heart spake otherwise; questionlesse Woman is a most divine Crea­ture, and therefore worthily deserves to be beloved: but Ile rest a while,

Fuillilaloo!

How now Sirrah?

The donny fellow make buse for my Moister.

What Fellow?

He was no Sougare nor Musketteer, but a greyshy guddy hang of a Peek-man.

And what of him?

Fuy by St. Patrick agra, he put de suckation upon my weef. I will tell dee tale if thou wilt Gluntamee. I came in wid my pishfork upon my back, thou know'st, and I see a greyshy guddy hang upon my weef, and I did creep in like a michear, to the wattles upon de loft abow thou know'st, and there I did see putting the great suck upon my weef, as if thy own shelf was there Moister; and because I wu'd make haste, I fell down upon 'em, and leek to have more than half break my neck; then wid my pishfork I clap him upon de Narsum, and I did make sharge for him in the Kings name, thou know'st, to stay dere til I fetch the Cunt—stable; but before I came, this chverech craveRauge make run away for himshelf: and looky there Moister.

Why what wudst have me doo?

Fea [...]een take my weef to thine own shelf, for Patrick will not lie with his weef Shuane again.

Why wudst a have me lie with her?

Yea feat if thou wilt.

[Page 19]

Oh Sir, 'tis so great a favour, I shall never be able to make your brogues a requital. However take this

in part of satisfaction; nay, this

too, that I may come out of your debt the sooner.

Act 2. Scene 1.

REally y'are the prittiest, sweetest natur'd Gent. and the merriest Guest, that ever I entertain'd in my life, and I am sure I have been an house-keeper this seven­teen years, come Candlemas.

Faith Landlady, 'tis my custom to be merry where ere I come. I must be like my self, noble and generous. I can as well be hang'd as degenerate from a Gentleman.

Hang all base pinching Misers, greedy Earth-worms, that place all their delight in melancholly possessing, not merrily spending, and emptying their full cram'd bags.

[Page 20]

Gramarcy Hic: the lines are indifferent, and wud sound better, were not that throat of thine so much like the base of a Lancashire Horn-pipe, whilst thy Treble runs Divisions like a Ram in a halter.

Ha, ha, ha, that was a wittie one; y'are an arch Wag, Ile warrant you.

If you mean an arch Wag-tail, y'ave hit the nail oth'head.

But Landlady, they say y'are well read.

And so the report goes of thee, but tis in two-leav'd books.

I know not how well I'm read, but I have read much.

What Authors?

In my youthfull daies, the most part of the Gar­land of good will, the Seven wise Masters, &c. and there was not a godly Ballad that scap'd my hands.

What since?

That good man Mr. Patience his works, and what else the Brethren publisht.

The Fathers of your Church you mean.

Well Gent. as simply as look, my first Husband was a School-Master of great learning, and so given to his Scholarship, that a wud not ask me for a messe of broth but in Latine, and for modestie sake (when a had a mind too't) wud wooe me to lie with him in Greek, or Hebrew. So that I was forc'd to learn my Accidence to understand him.

And did a not teach ye?

Yes, the first thing a told me was, that a Noun Sub­stantive is the name of a thing — that may be seen, felt, and understood—

Admirable!

And that a Noun Adjective could not stand — by it self, but required another thing — to be join'd with it. And then a taught me to decline Lypides, and Hic, haec, hoc, Gen. whorum, harum, whorum.

And why not lapis?

Because I will have it to want the singular number. But to proceed, I soon understood Propriae quae maribus. As for Quae Genus, I judg'd there was but little use to be made thereof.

Why so?

[Page 21]

Why what can a woman do with insufficient Heteroclites?

Deficient you mean.

Tis all one, Therefore I skipt over to As in praesenti, which I soon got at my fingers ends.

Did you learn your figures?

Yes, I warrant ye: figures enough to make ye be in my debt as long as ye live.

I mean Syncope, Apocope, &c.

I know not what you mean by stink-a-pisse, or a pocky peece. I mean round O's for shillings, and half O's for testers.

Have you no better Arithmetick?

I have learnt Multiplication, and the Rule of Three, I hope that's enough for a Woman. To conclude, my Husband taught me so exactly prick-song, that in a short time I taught a many to play on the Band whore, using (after a compendious manuer) but three Notes, Large, Long, and Quaver.

I cud not have thought you so well qualified. But Landlady, a word in your ear — Can you help us to a pretty Wench. I'm in the bravest humour —O I cud —

What cud you do?

You may know his meaning by his gaping.

Whats that?

Why a —

If you talk thus, Ile not venture my self in your com­pany any longer.

Come, what Sinner dost a know from fifteen to forty?

Tis pitty such handsom Gent. as you are shud long stand in need of that which you complain for the want of. I must confesse I shud think it a sin to denie either of you, upon that account, (you know my meaning) wert not a sin to do't. As our Teacher Mr. Giggum has often hinted when a has ta'n the pains to hold forth at a private meeting.

How now Landlady, what canting's this? pray let's have no more of hinting, and holding forth; they are not only word obsolete, but they favour likewise too much of re­bellion and treachery.

I hope Sir, you are not angry.

No, not I, but gigging (as you say) you may use; it's a good ancient word, and still in fashion.

And holding forth in some sense, is good too.

[Page 22]

Well, Gent. what ere you think of me now, I knew the time when brave Sparks would have been glad of my com­pany, and would not have sat down to dinner without me. Who then but Madam Pouch? ruffl'd every day in my silks, and wore Laces that cost many a fair pound, I'm sure; been Coach'd to this Tavern and to that, and in a frolick would have drank my Wine freely, God forgive me for't now. All my Neighbours did admire me. There was not any fashion stirring but I wud ha't, what ere it cost: and truly in every thing I was so neat —

So it seems Landlady by your present dresse.

Well, I think 'tis now near the critical hour, when Mortals whet their knives on thresholds. What's for dinner? the edge of my stomack's as sharp as a Turkish-Scymiter.

Truly Sir, I have nothing but a Calfs-head and Bacon and a sows'd Hogs Countenance; what think you of that Sirs?

Well enough, but that the continual sight thereof nauseates my stomack. Hic with his Calfs head is always our first course, and not a dish afterwards brought to the Table, but what is usher'd in with a Sows Phisnomy. Prepare ready what you have, and we'l be with you instantly,

I shall, and though our meat be homely, yet tis clean­ly; pray do'nt stay too long.

Oh! tis a prettie beast; the smile she left behind her, with the court' fie she dropt, has given me my dinner.

How she curvetted at every word she spake!

And her breech kils Musket shot.

Her eies wud inform an ingenuous Artist to propor­tion the minutes of his Clock; for they are in continual mo­tion, and keep time direct and retrograde.

What a hand she has! the true proportion of a shoulder of Mutton. As for her middle parts, (if they correspond with the rest) I shall look upon that man that dust adventure to lie with her, as desperate as Sir Francis Drake in shooting the Gulf. Let's in to Dinner.

Act 2. Scene 2.

DUll Drones — a little pains might drein a bog, me-thinks — as easily as the Fens, and here's a [Page 23]great many. Ile about it presently, left the amphibius Dutch prevent me. But how shall this be done? Thus —

the Bogs lie near the Mountains, which will afford me earth enough to dam'em up: but first Ile lay a foundation of hurdles, such as Dublin is built on, to support that Masse of Earth. So it shall be; tis as clear as a Mathema­tical Demonstration. The benefit that will redound hereby, will be triple. First a vast quantity of unprofitable Acres made arable, next a discovery (it may be) of gold and silver Mines, which the barrennesse of the Mountains demonstrate: and lastly metamorphosing a mountainous into a Champian Coun­trey. Here's the worst on't, I shall loose my name by't. The The King will confer on me little lesse than the Title of Duke of Mountain, Earl of Monah, or Lord Drein-bog.

Surely Gog Magog ne'r talkt thus.

A good reason why, he ne'r had that this fellow has.

What's that prithee?

A Maggot in's head as big as a Congre Eel.

I do not think but a as swallow'd Euclids Elements.

How do ye Mr. Contriver? are ye well?

Yes, pray how do you?

Never better; the Duke of Ʋtopia lives not merrier than us; we eat, drink, and sleep, without the least care; for our hearts are so continually oil'd by good liquor, that they are antidoted against sorrow.

For how long?

The question's grosse, pray let the thought thereof trouble you as little as it does us: We'l ne'r want it while we have any thing, and when we ha't not, we'l try our credits and rack 'em.

And that's the way to crack 'em.

Not so, as long as we have bold faces to back 'em.

To rime to that, I wish you ne'r may lack 'em.

What, bold faces?

No, I mean your Credits; Phantastick, be rul'd by me, and Ile make thee a man.

Why what dost make on me now, an Asse?

No, I'me serious; the foundation of your well-being cannot be laid firm upon such sandy bottoms, as the tenure of your discourse discovers.

[Page 24]

You talk like your self, full of projects, and ne'r a won worth a blew bead: but what wudst a have me to do?

This very day did I find in an old Map, O Braseel with its height; that there is such a place, is without doubt, and as report goes, very rich, and inhabited by very ignorant people: this I'd have thee do; let me have thy moneys to carry on the design, and ne'r fear, but this working pate will soon make a discovery.

Prithee good Solomon simple set thy heart at rest, I have better things to employ my money about.

Well, think what you please of me, had I but money enough now, I've a hundred projects to encrease it by.

What an Asse art thou to trouble that contriving sconce of thine with vain Chimeraes: had I so much money as thou speakest of, I would tell thee how I would dispose of it: first, my house shud be built by such rare Architects; every one an Archimedes, (or a Sebastian Shyrley at least), that the sight thereof shud strike the spectators into an amazement, or Gorgon like convert em into Statues: my Gardens and Walks there­in shud be composed of nothing but pleasure, in whose shady Meanders Venus shud have a thousand Chappels of ease. But chiefly my Cellars shud be throug'd with all sorts of rich Wine, and shud be free for all good fellows. My Larders replenisht with Neats tongues, Westphalia hams, Potargo, Cavere, Olioes, and such like; all for to relish our liquor: and then Jesters, Musitians, and exquisite beaucies shud be our menial servants.

You wud permit me to be your Poet to compose Songs for your Musick, and provoke your dul'd desires by amorous Sonnets.

Prithee do'nt interupt me: to be short, whatever nature produces to be extremely delightfull, that wud I possess my self of, neither wud I enjoy this alone excepting my Concu­bines.

Twas well you made that exception; for that stable that admits of all sorts of horses to litter in, now and then meets with a running Nag.

Pray on Sir, about your Ʋtopia.

I wud keep open house for all roaring Blades, and one part of my pastime shud be to make e'm drunk: the Gen­try shud ride home in Coaches, and the servants follow after in wheelbarrows.

[Page 25]

Mad, stark mad. When you have obtain'd your wishes, will you not reserve a place for me?

By all means, why thou shudst be my contriving Cocks-comb, or my Fool, but that I fear thou hast not wit enough.

I am bound to thank you Sir, but this discourse suits not with my businesse: you may please your self for a while in your own fond conceits, and soon after see the folly of 'em.

See how the Maggot bites

Well, I see our purposes run in two several channels, therefore it will be needless to entertain any further discourse.

Fare you well with your plots, let us mind our plea­sures.

Act 2. Scene 3.

Gent. to say y'are welcome is no more than the custom of our calling allows every man; yet I'le not com­plement, what my house affords, freely call for. First seat your self, next what wine d'y [...] drink?

Boy (within, by and by Sir) enters.

I think a glass of Canary.

There's your mistake Sir, you'l find but little of that here, but for Sherry and Malago, London affords no better.

What you please then.

Boy, draw a quart of Sack out of the sixteenth Butt in the middle range.

I'me glad to hear you are so well stor'd.

And so am I too: since I came to this City I could not command so many full bottles, as now I can Butts.

The case is well alter'd with you.

Why then shud we dispare.

'Tis so, and now I live happy in the enjoyment of my Wife and an only Daughter.

How old Sir I pray.

About eighteen, and though I say't, her wit, beauty and breeding contend for preheminence: you shall see her. Boy call hither Cassandra.

[Page 26]

This is a favour beyond expectation.

So that's well.

Your pleasure Sir?

Madam excuse my rudeness.

My pleasure is, that you go to your Mother — and d'ye hear —

Nay Madam, let me present my service to you in a glass of wine,

I cu'd wish the enjoyment of your com­pany a little while, were the motion approv'd of by your fair self, I question not your Fathers allowance.

Sir your pardon, my Fathers commands obliges me otherwise.

Ald. Thrivewel, I wonder at you.

Why?

That you are not infinitely proud.

For what?

Being the Father of such an incomparable piece of beauty.

You flatter me.

I never was accustomed to't. O Love I never felt thy all-searching power til this minute.

Come, to all our friends in England.

Whose that? Mr. Contriver, y'are come very oportunely.

So it seems.

Well, what news abroad?

I know not, but I think e're long, the Inhabitants of this world, will all turn either fools, knaves, or mad-men.

Why, what's the matter now?

Why, I have been to have a bill accepted, and the man perswades me, I forg'd it my self; if it be not so, he's a knave to refuse it; if it be so, then was I a very fool to do it so as he should discover it.

Here's the knave, and the fool, or the fool and the knave, but where's the mad-man?

Phantastick, and Hic & ubique. I came now from dis­swading 'em from their distructive courses, yet still they hold, that they were born to no other end, than to enjoy pleasure, & they say ther's but one deadly sin, and that's good husbandry; they talk of nothing, but Wine, Wenches, and Musick, how to [Page 27]make men drunk, and to send 'em home in wheelbarrows, and such like trumpery. And so I left 'em to come and speak with you about some business.

Alderman, for this courtesie I shall be better acquaint­ed with your house.

And remain we your debtors.

'Tis thus, I understand that there's just now arrived two Ships laden with french wine; if you make hast you may have the first sight of 'em.

I thank you good Sir, I'le go instantly.

This plot of mine hath taken rarely well; this will occasion his absence for some considerable time, which wil give me a fair opportunity to court his Daughter Cassandra.

Act 2. Scene 4.

S'life y'are too coy for a man of my temper, these long graces have too much of a phanatick relish. Come, you may guess at my meaning, few words among friends are best.

I hope Sir, you won't ravish me.

By Heavens Lady, as long as I'me hear, he sha'nt in­jure you, for I have more than ordinary respects for you.

Who you? why thou pittiful poor inconsiderable thing, made up of the parings of Priscians nails, mingled with the excrements of Mars; dost thou undertake to be her Champion, and dost not deserve to be her Foot-boy? I durst swear the ve­ry sight of a drawn sword, shall make thee run seven miles, without once looking behind thee.

I regard not thy cholerick expressions, but be confident thy over self-conceitedness, ( Narcissus like) will hasten thy ruine. In any thing that may be termed good in thee, thy eies like drunkards see all double, and thy opinionative fancy, like a multiplying glass, makes a molehil seem a mountain: thus admiring thy self, thou vainly dost imagine, that every one that does but look on thee, does the like. Yet know I've as much interest here as thou.

Pray Gentlemen let not me be the subject of your quarrel; I equally respect you both, til my judgment shall be ballanc'd by him that loves me most.

Why then shee's mine by Priapus—Lady by all—

[Page 28]

Who gave you leave to speak first, she freely confesses I have an equal share with you in her affections.

One as much as t'other, & that's none at all

But Sir, as I'me your superior many degrees, desist from interrupting me, or I shall quickly send you to that place where you must be content to wait churlish Charons lea­ture for your passage.

If I can but keep my countenance now I shall have fine sport between 'em.

Madam, I make no question but my services have ac­quainted you with the height of my love, and therefore what I now can say will be but a tautology. Y'are not ignorant that I am not only a Gentleman, but a Traveller too, and to shew you what quaint observations I have gathered abroad, I'le first represent to your view the common salutations of each Coun­try. Thus the neat French mode, thus the proud and stately Spanish, —(nay hold still) or thus after the devouring Italian manner, I shall omit the slavering Dutch fashion, as too clow­nish for my imitation.

Sir your Prologue's too long.

Wud a were come to his Epilogue once.

To please you Madam then I'le be shorter.

That's not the way to please her.

Can you love?

As I'me a woman, I've a mixture of all passions in me.

Then consequently that of love, but commonly wo­mens affections are grounded upon self-interest: if they match with those whose estates can't satisfie their ambition, 'tis to be supposed then, that there's something extraordinary, that supplies that defect.

You speak mistically, I know not what you mean.

My meaning is not far from you, which time and your permission may make you acquainted withall. Madam, my face is not so contemptible, as tempting, experience confirms my belief. I ne're yet in all the Countries I came ac­quainted with, took the pains to court any, all contending who should first prostitute her self to my pleasure. I liv'd in Ʋto­pia three months, where no English man before durst venture; the Dukes only daughter taking notice of my super-excellent [Page 29]qualifications, as likewise the exact simetrical proportion of my body, fell so deeply in love with me, that I was necessitated to satisfie her desires, to save her life. And to save mine (the Duke being informed of what was done) there being no shipping in the harbour, I was fain to put to sea in a Wash-boal, and the only sayl I had, was the fore part of my shirt.

A yard I grant him. But what did a do for want of a mast.

And by a strange providence I Landed at Graves-end. The Court was suddenly inform'd of my arrival, and imme­diately was profer'd I know not what a year to keep 'em com­pany only. I knew what they drove at, for they intended to make me the pattern to wear their cloaths by.

But not how to keep 'em.

I cud have serv'd in stead of a jury of french Taylors, for the inventing of a new fashion, as likewise they knew I cud teach 'em to speak well, and redeem their Tongues from being pensioners to absurd silence.

I now plainly see you are a Travelles.

How handsomely the gives him the lye; but the fool (I believe) ha's not so much witt to apprehend it.

What you express is nothing but truth. Nay more I durst challenge the whole world to parallel my strange obser­vations.

More strange then true: but I'me glad a has travel'd so far from his subject.

I'le tell you one of 'em, I met with a fellow about a league from Pernassus, falling into discourse (for a spake perfectly the Rabbinical, and I answer'd him in mank's) we at length concluded to descend the fore­said hill, and drink our mornings draught at Hellicon, having carrows'd so long that we began to be mellow, a spake to me in five several Languages at one in­stant.

I have heard of those that have spoken their words by clusters, but certainly the tother's impossi­ble.

[Page 30]

The Method that he observ'd therein will salve up all contradiction: for with his tongue a wud vowel out the lofty Italian, in the mean time the proud Spanish came glittering through the rolling of his sparkling eies; his cheeks (being swel'd with Wind) blew out the blustering Dutch, a snuffled the French through his nose; and the grumbling of his dissatisfied belly (at the same time) spake articulately the Hungarian. I cud tell you of a thousand more, which are now too tedious to relate, yet hereafter the relation of 'em will serve for pritty divertisements between us by the fire side in a winter night. Therefore to conclude, if my Travel, Wit, Birth, Breeding, and a handsom Personage, will not invite you to embrace my motion, I know not what will: Consider of these things seriously, and I shall ne'r fear that an Hic & Ʋbique can rob me of your affections.

Sir, your discourse has been so prolix, that it will require a very considerable time to find out what you drive at. However, give me leave to hear you both.

That's my Cue — Lady, give me leave to salute you after my fashion.

I've been troubled with too many of 'em already. yet for once, how is't?

After the Hic & ubique manner thus—

But that's not as you said, every where.

I know that, I've done as much as was civil, pray do you the rest.

Such scurrilous discourse renders you ridiculous, and reflects likewise upon me.

Madam, I shall then wave such deviations, and render my self in such terms that may be suitable to the greatnesse of my affections: Prose is too low a style to expresse my self in, therefore thus:

This is something to the purpose, if they be your own.

Madam I'me no plageary, I ne're yet wanted words to Express my mind, and therefore need not borrow.

But you can steal: how cudst thou have the face to repeat these verses (I being present) thou know'st I told thee, I made 'em five years since, for my first Mistress.

Let not thy Impudent lying provoke me too far.

I ne're took the lye yet without satisfaction, therefore don't repeat it, lest I make thee a companion for subterian spirits.

Thou hadst best, if tha'st a minde to be hang'd.

What for killing an Elfe, or an Ass?

No, I mean thou durst as well be hang'd, as draw.

I'le try that.

Nay have at ye then.

Murder, Murder.

Help, Help.

What, Draw upon a woman (cowardly villians) [Page 32]( draws) what your intent, tell me quickly, or this all-piercing stell shall set your bloods abroach.

Sir, We came not to injure the Gentlewoman.

Sir, They are both my servants, and 'tis Jelousy that occasions 'em to quarrel.

Madam, I shud think such poor spirited fellowes de­serve not the honour of that title.

I thing so too, Sir, I was forc't to entertain 'em, because I knew not how to be rid of 'em.

Madam, I'le quickly do you that courtesie, and by so doing, I may pleasure my self; her beauty hath already cap­tivated me;

Villians, Expect not the honour to fall by my hands. Patrick go cut their throats.

For fuat joy, to put the Kill upon my shelf.

Go sirrah, or I'le cut your's (turns to Mrs. Hopewel)

O yea, for Christis shake, make help for my shelf moy­ster, or else poor Kilpatrick will be made Kil upon.

To provoke cowards too much, is the way to make 'em desperate. ( Beats 'em of) sirrah, did not you tell me you cud fight, upon that account I entertain'd you.

Yes feat, at cuff, or skean.

None serves me but those that durst blow in a charged pistol, and valew a sword no more than a cudgel.

See for this, by got a chree he wu'd put some lead in my belly but there was no sharge powder upon the pishtol, he did make intention to cut off my head, feat.

Be gone, I shall talk with you some other time, Madam shu'd I say I love you, from this interview, you wu'd condemn me as rash, but blame me not, if your beauty commands me, to be yours eternally. May I request the great favour as to know your lodging.

It deserves not your knowledge: Your pardon Sir.

Follow her sirrah, and see where she houses, and bring me word, at the three Tunns.

Act 3. Scene 1.

MAdam, I hope the fervency of my love will (in some measure) excuse the boldness of my intrusi­on; since the time that I first saw you I have been extreamly impatient, and the force of my imagination was so strong, as to make me conceit every minute of Delay to be a compleat day, till I had found out an opportunity to make you acquain­ted with the reality of my affections.

And pray Sir, what do you propose to your self, now you have found it?

I shall in part ease my self of a great load of love that lies on my heart.

Pray Sir, if that be all, disburthen your self quick­ly, charity commands me to give you my attention, if that will do you good.

Very much, if you'l let my penetrating expressions sinke into the hollow recesses of your heart.

I can't promise you that; for I know not what you mean, every word you speak to me is an Hieroglyphick, or some for­raign language, which will require an Interpreter.

Then Madam I'le be my own, and unriddle that Em­blem which seemingly puzzles you so much to understand; I love you, and that in so great a measure, that were the quintes­cence of all love contracted together, it could not exceed mine.

I'me sorry that you have shot your Arrows at the wrong mark, your hopes have mistaken their lodging, and you have cast Anchor in a bootless harbour.

Pray don't say so, I have a stronger faith than to be mov'd with such customary denials, which your politick sex still defends themselves withal, when the forlorn hope of their af­fection receives it's first incounter. Lady, you are flesh & blood, and can't be out-law'd from the Court of Love; & though your beauty, birth, and education may advance the verge of your thoughts to a far higher fortune than my self: Yet I question not but the strength & constancy of my Love may ballance it.

Sir your eagerness puts me in mind of a common saying that what is violent, is not permanent; every days experience informs us that hot love grows soon cold; yet what I speak is but by hear-say; for as the tenderness of my years [Page 34]may perswade any that I am unacquainted with Love-affairs, the same argument may make you know, that I understand not your amorous discourse.

The many examples of younger matches, are enough to sway down the subtil evasions of your sophistical arguments.

Ther's no contradicting you, for they say men have the art of perswading women contrary to their own beliefs; though for my own part (I think) I am proof against it, as de­signing my affections to be guided by my Parents will and pleasure.

Were I but assur'd of your consent, I am confident of your Fathers assent, and then there can be no remora or impe­diment to our conjunction.

Excuse me Sir, the world is now grown very deceitful, therefore 'tis requisite I advise with my self, consult you as you please with my Father.

The result of which (I hope) will tend to your last­ing contentment

I never yet cud give a reason for Antipathy; as soon as I saw him, methought of all men living I lov'd him least.

How now, what's the matter with you?

The matter Mrs. I believe I have matter enough in my hand for you, O the sweetest Gentleman (I think in my con­science) that ever lay by a womans side.

What, ar't mad, Wench?

Yes, and so w'ud you too, had you seen what I did.

What was that?

I tell you the finest Gentleman—I warrant 'a has—

'Tis no matter what a has, but what of him?

He gave me a Letter, and enjoin'd me to deliver it to your own hands.

A Letter for mel sure th'art mistaken.

Will you believe your own eies?

These for that matchless piece of beauty, Mrs. Cassan­dra Thrivewel. 'Tis a fair title, I'le see if the contents corre­spond.

Peregrine, who's that?

Don't you remember the Gentleman that you were commending yesterday?

Thou talkest at randome.

'Tis the very same.

Why shud a love me? and yet why do I ask that que­stion, since I know not well why I love him?

For what else, but for a beautiful face? and let me tell you Mrs. you have one that's tempting enough; for so say most Gentlemen that come to our house; Oh! I have heard 'em wishing — you know what I mean.

You are too bold huzy, pray learn to be silent, and that at least will make you seem wiser.

Indeed Mrs. you wud not only seem so, but be really wiser, if you wud resolve to make better use of your time: had some as many sweet-hearts as you, they'd make more hast to understand, what a pretty pleasant life they (that are married) do enjoy.

Peace, thou talkest idely. I find an alteration in me al­ready;

sure this paper contains magick, otherwise it could not perswade me to love so suddenly: O my freedom I now begin to fear the loss ou't.

Act 3. Scene 2.

Were ever men thus bafled? how glad the strumpet was to be rid on's?

Hang her, shee's like the rest of her sex, that value [Page 36]men by the quantity of their moneys, and not their worth.

Wud I had again what I've spent on her, twud be now very seasonable to supply my empty pockets.

O Sir! are you come to that? ne're wish for't, if you intend to thrive: don't you remember your old maxim?

Prethee leave off your jeering, and lend me a crown.

Why then your money's all gone it seems.

Yes I may thank you for't.

Nere thank me for the matter, but thank your self; however ther's a crown, but make no practise of borrowing of mee, this is the last time.

Now y' faith, if thou wilt, weel go to th' Tavern agen, and I'le spend it, I'me half drunk already, and so art thou.

No not I.

Then th'art mad.

Why?

Thou'dst ne're have lent me a crown else; I conceipt my self now as rich as Craesus. Here boy, fetch me a quart of sack, a short life and a sweet, ther's nothing like it.

So well done, sill a brimmer.

'Tis very well Gentlemen, that you are so mer­ry, [Page 37]but I'de have you remember, you did not discharge the large reckoning last night. I don't like this shuffling, you can run oth' score in my house, and find ready money abroad for the Tavern. Gentlemen, I can stay no longer, my Brewer must be paid, and my Baker has been here to day for money.

As for your Brewer he may be an honest fellow; but hang your Baker, I have nothing to do with him: but pray what is it I'me engaged to you?

Since you paid me last, 'tis just twenty five shil­lings four pence. 'Twill be long enough before you Mr. Hic, will ask how much you owe, and if you did, I think 'tis much at one, for you never intend to pay, as far as I can see. I ne're saw a penny of your money yet, and that which is worse, I know not when I shall: had I known you'd have roar'd and ranted so much, you shud have sought your lodging some where else. Besides, I doubt you have both been too familiar with my maid Dorothy; I examin'd her upon her crying out last night, and she confest that you were both uncivil, and did — I'me asham'd to tell what: wud I had been in her place, I de have taught you to have medled with a woman again after that manner.

And for ever after made us hate the cry of kitchin stuff for thy sake. Prithee good butter-barrel, don't think to melt thy self by our fire: thou Tun of Heydleberg, thy bung­hole's so big that I am afraid to come near it, lest falling there­in, I hazard a drowning. Had Garagantua liv'd, thou mightst have taught him, without much endangering of him, to have kneaded dough in thy trough.

Could a man have but seen 'em in conjunction, the resemblance had been to nothing more proper than the Ox at St. James's fair, roasted whole with a Pudding in his belly.

Come Landlady I have more charitable thoughts than to think thee a — because thy age wants temptation; But I'me sure not hot inclination; but as for cheating and extor­tion (two excellent moral vertues) they've qualified thee for a shee-saint of thy profession.

But that I am patient, and not given to the language of Billingsgate, I would say, that thou art a son of the Whore of Babylon, to abuse an honest [Page 38]woman of my sort; thou spawn of Iniquity; vile, vain, Vilainous Raskal: 'Tis no wonder thou should'st thus scoff at me, thy self being so handsome, come up here, thou maggot fac't fellow; thy hose wu'd serve for a hand-saw; Get thee a lookinglass, and there thou shalt see the Image of Nebuchad­nezzar newly come from grass, away, foh, thou stink'st of su­perstition, there's something in thy face that bears the resem­blance of a prophane large wrought Christmass candle.

This won't do, I must cog her into a better humour.

Honest Landlady, I was but in jest all this while, only to try your temper: to be serious, what you find fault withall, shall speedily be amended, as for what I owe you, my bills of exchange, (which I expect by every post) are enough to satisfie you ten times over, and so here's to ye

nay y'faith Drink't off.

Come lets be merry.

Boy call in the musick I sent for: my Land-Lady and I must have a Daunce.

I can't Daunce, I'me old, but when I was yong I could have footed it to the horn-pipe, with the best of 'em.

Nay then I durst swear you han't forgot it.

Well done y'faith, y'ave been a notable lass in your days I warrant you;

I am not so old yet, but that I can have a young man

as handsome as either of you, no dis­paragement.

Certainly he was born blind then.

But 'tis best to keep my self as I am, and then I need not be in continual jealousie of my maids, nor stay so long for my husbands coming home from the Tavern, that my meat is either rotten roasted, or cold; sit up till twelve a clock at night; If he comes home, then to be sure hee's drunk, and falls a rayling at me: if not, ten to one he ha's taken up his quar­ters with one wench or other. No, no, ther's ne're a yong man of e'm all shall so delude me.

I wonder who wu'd, unless it be one that is troubled with a continual foul stomach, and so to save charges wu'd make use of her face to give him a vomit.

Well Gentlemen, my business calls me away, pray [Page 39]don't force me to rise in my smock age'n, to let you in, when you are out late.

Your Landlady won't alwayes thus be put off with fine words.

I know that, I see ther's but one way; my cloaks must lye by't I faith: and now I think on't, Alderman Thrivewel is a fit person for my purpose. 'Twere better they were Im­prisoned than I.

It's true, y'faith.

Well, when all is gone I'le not dispair; for 'tis an ar­ticle of my faith, I shall ne're want; how e're tis with you now, I believe I shall see you in the same condition e're it be long.

If thou shu'dst see me as poor as thy self, yet there wilbe a great deal of difference between thee and me.

Prithee why?

Because I have more wit and a better carriage than thou hast to carry it off.

O The impudence of folly! those commonly which conceipt themselves the wisest, are oft found the veryest fooles. Dost thou talk of witt, when thy ignorance has no similitude, and thy carriage no comparison. Thy fine cloathes like a cork boys thee above water, and thy small remayning stock of money, like ballast, keepes steady the giddly vessel of thy brain, which otherwise wu'd with every blast of misfortunes, be quite turned topsey turvey; neither hast thou schollarship to sollace thee in thy adversity.

And what does thy learning avail thee, when thy Landlady calls for money? see then whether you can perswade the serjeant, with your hard words, to let you go; I durst say your quaint fancyes will hardly bayl you out of prison; nei­ther will your learned Poems pay your fees. Hic, I'le give you good advice; never pawn your cloaks, as you intend, till you have tryed what you can take up upon your schollarship; thy cloak will serve to keep thee warm, and feed thee too for a while, when all the profound Authors thou hast read, can't advise thee how to procure one meales meat; he that has money, commands every thing, with which I can obtain the opinion of being a witt too. Han't I known a rich young heir, been cry'd up for a witty person, when the Iliads of his discourse, wu'd not afford a nutshell of sence?

[Page 40]

Content your selfe with your money, whilst you have it, in the mean time I shall learn to understand, that there is something that satisfies without it.

Act 3. Scene 3.

PRithee, hast a er'e a perpetual Almanack?

What to do?

I would be plac'd there, instead of a saint, an ever­lasting fool.

Wherefore?

Why that Ʋbiquitarian, and his antick comrade Phantastick, have lately borrowed monies of me: the one shun's me, as the Hare does the Gray-bound; the tother flatly de­nies a ever receiv'd a penny of me, and because he receivd it in private he bids me produce my witnesses; and a third, when I askt him civily for my monies, he very uncivily threat­ned to bang me.

His bastinadoes wu'd have prov'd beneficial, had they broken the bones of too much trusting, and so well reduo'd again by a Jewish incredulous bone-setter.

Now I see second thoughts are best, by which I Judge thee one of Solomons fooles too, for had'st thou been wise, thou wouldst have purchast thy name for breaking, for some vast sum, and then 'twere no matter if the fee-simple of a sta­tute of Bankrupt were intayl'd upon thee and thine heirs for ever.

But what way d'ye resolve on for a lively hood?

I know not, imployments being so difficult in their obtaining.

'Tis true, though whole ships of fooles daily arriving vainly Imagin the contrary.

Had I known so much before, the Indies shu'd sooner have been my refuge.

[Page 41]

What think'st thou of being a Rat-catcher?

Prithee why?

Why, thy face does look like a Weezle, which you know is a great enemy to that soro of Vermine; so that thy appearance in a House, hanted by 'em, will so terrify 'em, that thou mayest save the charge oll Compositions for their destruction.

No, 'twere better to turn Merchant.

But that will require a considerable sum.

There's your mistake, for a box of sneezing, a decay'd Tobacco-role, a dozen of clean Pipes, and a bottle of Strong­water, will make me one of indifferent good reputation.

O Excellent! Well, I'le be for the study of Physick: My Father being an Apothecary, 'twill facilitate my knowledge of Simples, and their Compositions. I shall want little but terms of Art, to puzle the Ignorant.

Get acquainted with Barber-Surgeons then, and A­pothecaries, they help you to enough of such Empty shells, that contein nothing: And be sure let the excellency of your skill, chiefly consist in the cure of the French Disease; I'le warrant you Patients enough.

How so?

Don't you hear of the Armad [...] of Fire-ships abroad?

No.

That's strange, there's not a Frigot hardly, that either lyes moor'd up at Lazy-hill, Kilmainam, or [...]he rest of the Docks that properly belong to that Fleet, but they'r all soul in the Gun­room: There's not one that sayles from London, (let her be ever so well Rigg'd) but her Pump is choak't up, and she opens in the Keel.

I've heard indeed; that your over-worne decayed, and unwholsom London Doxies, having no longer [...], nor credit there, repair hither, making it their [...]ris, and passing for young fresh sinners, are soon bought up as sauce for Wood, cocks.

Which your French Cooks don't alwaies compose of the wholsomest Materials: But 'tis no matter, if you may live rea­sonably well, upon the unreasonable, and all living of others.

Then I am resolv'd upon't. Now must I put on a grave. Countenance, with a Habit suitable; Ransack all Dictionaries for hard words, 'Tis no matter how little Intelligible, if amazing: [Page 42]Get some empty Glasses and Gally-pots, with Inscriptions on 'em; And a Catalogue of Diseases, fairly printed, all which at least I'le pretend to cure; which done, I'le cause my Bills of an outlandish new come learned Doctor to be affixt to all corners of Streets, and not a pissing place shall escape 'em.

Thus by this Plot, I'le change my low condition: A broken Trades-man, makes a sound Physician.

ACT. IV. SCEN. 1.

I thank you for your timely advertisement; I hope the bargain will not prove improfitable.

May all than you take in hand prosper; but Sir, I have another businesse to acquaint you withal.

What's that Sir?

The love I bear your Daughter, makes me humbly be­seech you to accept me for a Son.

'Tis [...]er of weight, and will require much serious consideration. Have you made her acquainted with your af­fections?

With your pardon Sir, I shall confess I discover'd my never-dying love to her, but her answer thereto she refer'd to your Disposal. Neither is it my desire to captivate any Maidens heart, till I am authorized by her Parents.

You speak prudently. And truly Mr. Contriver, let me tell you, I ever had a good conceipt of you, and 'tis my opini­on that you will thrive. The consideration of which perswades me to give you my consent, and you shall have my authority to com­mand her. Boy—call it Cassandra.

Girle what think'st of a blusband?

Sir If I may freely deliver my opinion, not as o­thers do.

How's that?

They may fancy to themselves pleasure in the injoy­ment [Page 43]of that, the very thought of which is troublesom to me.

Come, come, you know not what a Husband is, till you have tryed.

I wish I never may.

Away with this dissimulation: Your Mother told me as much, when I woo'd her first, and yet, was never at rest, till I was assur'd to her. Here's a Gentleman I respect, in whose affecti­ons (if you'l be obedient) I intend to make you happy.

The state I now enjoy (provided it suited with your will) is already more happy than alteration can make it. Good, Father pardon me. And Sir, for your affections, I thank you, yet deserye 'em not in the least; but I must beg your excuse too, since in me I find no appetite to relish love.

It's a seeming piece of Injustice, not to retalliate love, for love, Madam.

You are a foolish Girle, and know not what's good. Into what inconveniencies would you run your selves, were yee your own Carvers: 'Tis well therefore that you have careful Pa­rents to provide what's best for you; I wonder what recompence can you make us for all our care, but by being dutiful and obedi­ent; the neglect whereof renders you notoriously guilty.

Sir, Let me be disowned for your Daughter, rather then be branded with that superlative crime of Disobedience.

Why, well said, now you say somthing, Mr. Con­triver, let not any thing disincourage you, for, her denyal onely proceeded from her modesty: Let us leave her therefore to con­sider on your Proposals, and my Resolutions: They can't but take deeply with her: But I must talk with you in private, about some thing that must be done before the Nuptials are celebrated.

I'le follow you instantly. Madam, the utmost that I now can say, is but the same in effect of what I told you hereto­fore. In your presence I can speak in no other Dialect but that of love. I had just now come into my head—I must think on't another time—I hope your Fathers good counsil, with the consideration of my tender affections, will (in a little time) work such effects, that may satisfie the eagernesse of my desires, the full content of your self, to the compleat satisfaction of your Parents.

Unhappy I that am thus in the very spring of my love, [Page 44]thwarted by unwelcome contradictions. I stand betwixt two ex­treams, the Duty I owe my Father on the one side, commanding me to love one, whom in all the World I love least; On the other side, my own inclinations forces me to affect him, whose love I prefer before my own welfare! What shall I do? methinks Age shu'd consider of others that are youthful, by themselves that were so? [...] in the same condition. They had a time to love, and wu'd have thought it hard measure, shu'd the freedom of their funcies have been contradicted. I know not what to think of old Folks experience, which they continually inculcate into our memories, to perswadeous not to love, without some palpa­ble Advantage: [...] unto me are but dead precepts—

'Tis she: Be resolute and be happy. Madam, my Messenger of love I question not, but you have received, and shu'd infinitely rejoyce to hear you have made him welcome. The im­palsive springs of my affections brought me hither, to second and confirm the contents of what I have writ. If I have offended, I desire to be tryed by no other Jury then that of your charitable thoughts, and being Assaigned at Loves Bar, I now expect from your Tongue, (the Foreman) the verdict either of life, or death.

Sir, the evidence as yet has not found the Indictment, therefore I might suspend my Judgment in pronouncing you Guiltlesse, but that I cannot but freely acquit you.

Then Lady, to your Ladiships will I pay my fees, (kisses) assure your sell, I've wilt nothing, neither will I speak anything, but what I am ready to seal with the purest of my blood. O that my thoughts were visible. My heart's too little to contain the greatnesse of my affections.

I doubt your Words and Lines are all but tryals of a Maidens weaknesse. Where are too too many of your Sex, that are too too prone to glory in their erecting Frophies over our too too much credulity. We Maids have tender hearts, and are apt to take notice of worth, especially when we find it in conjunction with constancy.

Cu'd you love that man heartily then, that wu'd love you constantly.

I think I cu'd, provided he were well stockt with virtue.

[Page 45]

That's not positive.

I both can and will then.

Why then, By all the Powers above I am he.

Have you caught me thus? but 'tis no matter, since I cu'd no longer hold: Then by all the Powers above and below, I am yours. But Sir, my Father has commanded me to love one Contriver, but assure your self, he shall never injure your interest in me, 'tis possible he may hinder it a while.

He to our constant loves shall adde no doubt;

His own unworthiness will work him out.

Act. 4. Scen. 2.

HEnceforth I shall bestow on you the title of my Son.

And from this moment I shall esteem my self most happy by being so in all dutiful respect.

Umh— how happy are all my projects, gramercy good brains. I am now clearly of the belief, my Mothers imagination was strongly fixt on Oliver or Mazerin, when she conceiv'd me, or that she long'd to eat five or six leaves of Machiavel's politick Discourses. When I was but a Boy I could have cheated all the Boyes in a whole School of their bread and butter, and have eaten it all afterwards: As for Calves and such like humane Creatures, them I couzened at my pleasure, by sucking their Dams. Now since I write my self Man, go thy way, when e're thou dyest, there's none will survive to bring thy ingenious plots to perfection. Exit.

Mr. Alderman, you're the man I look't for.

What's your businesse, Mr. Hic & Ʋbique.

In troth my businesse now is not so much Ʋbique, as for the present Hic, and that is to borrow a little mony of you.

Indeed you must excuse me.

I mean upon a Pawn.

[Page 46]

A Pawn, now you say something, and what is't?

My Cloaks?

Did not I alwayes perswade you against your extrava­gant courses, and now you see what they have brought you to.

I pray Sir do me that courtesie, it is to stop my Landlady's mouth, who daily threatens me with imprisonment, and I know not how to avoid it, but by your lending me so much mony.

I shud think Sir that you are able to stop your Land­ladyes mouth without mony; However follow me, and I'le satis­fie your Request.

Act. 4. Scen. 3.

MAdam, you are so incredulous of the reality of my af­fections, that I know not which way to perswade you, that I love, if the free surrender of my Estate will do it, it shall be done without any reservation, that thereby you may know that I value not my self or what I have proportionably to the enjoy­ment of your Dearest self.

The freeness of your Proffer, makes me really be­lieve, that your love is incapable of Admitting the least Equivo­cation. However I shall not give my self up solely to your im­braces, till by the conveyance of your Land over to me, I shall be more fully assured, that you love me not for what I have, but for what I am. I propound not this to cheat you, but that as it may be the touchstone of your Love.

If that be all, were the whole Universe at my command, I'de freely tender it to you to be disposed by your Will; and what Losse wu'd it be to part with the world to one, in whom ten worlds of Excellencies and pleasures are contein'd: the possession of you (me thinks) is enough to recompence the losse of All, that the greatest Potentates do Enjoy. Every minute of Delay seems to me an Age till I have fulfilled your request. Pathrick fetch me a Scrivener presently.

Scriboner, arra fuat de Devel; Scribner—my shelf make no meyning for Dat at all.

A Fellow that writes Bills and Bonds.

[Page 47]

Bills and Ponds! feir De vaiter is.

Why a Clark then, thou Blockhead.

Arra fuat de Tevil wilt dou do vid de Cleark?

That, Goodman Raskal.

If I make tell so for him before, he will not come for me afterward.

Why thou Bog-trotting, Beetle-head, tell him, I have bu­siness for him then.

Arrah fuat de Devil must my shelf go make fecth for de Clark, to put sheat upon my moyster, and Pathrick himself.

Now Sir I see you love me, and I shall ever endea­vour that my Affections run parallel with yours.

So, are you come, a word with you Sir, here's a Copy of my Estate presently draw a conveyance to Mrs. Anne Hopewell and her Heirs.

Pray Sir see that there be no fraud nor fallacy in it.

Now I hope you are mine.

Stay Sir, you're too hasty, have Patience till the Scrivener has ingrossed your Dictates.

Then you'l be mine.

As freely as I can dispose of my self.

In the mean time let's take the Aire, this place is too little to contain the greatness of my Joy.

Why shu'd I now cry out against the iniquity of the Gods, that they shu'd thus leave the disposal of human affairs to the Guidance of partial Fortune, I cu [...]d weep (but that 'twu'd render me effeminate) when I think that I am wholly extracted, and that by the Chymistry of my Folly, brought to the very Mercury.

Well, what's now to be done, I must consider, whether Hanging or Drowning be best, or what Death with the greatest ease, and quickest Expedition, will convey me safe to Charon's Ferry­boat: in the mean time, as for the thinness of my habit, that must be excus'd with the heat of my Constitution; as for Eating 'twill render the Body too corpulent, therefore Fasting will be requi­site: as for Drinking, Nature has provided enough every where of that, which will prevent hot Distempers; and for Sleeping I que­stion not but I shall have time enough for that.

What ha we got here? The embleme of Poverty, this is it to be a Poet; surely hee's ill-belov'd of the Muses, that none of the Nine wu'd give him a Petticoat to make him a Cloak of, now is the time for me to make sport with him; who do you belong to, Prince Prigg? han't you no part ith' Beggers Bush to act? you you look as if you were conning something of that Nature.

Truly Sir, I was studying the Art of Begging, because some say 'tis very beneficial to them that can manage it aright.

But thou want'st thy implements, as a Wooden Legg, False Belly, a Forc't Eye, with the Art of making Old Sores, and such like undiscernible Cheats, that may procure Pity: as for thy Cloaths they will serve indifferently, a Month or two will reduce them into the Tatter-demallion fashion.

To which adde four more to make up a half year, and his may be in the same Condition

What Country-man art?

Sir, my Country is Hic & Ʋbique.

Let me see—where does that Country lye? now I know; Just three Degrees, five minutes from the Equinoctial. And what's thy Name?

Hic & Ʋbique.

Is that thy Christen-name?

I know not whether I was ever christned, if I was not, I [Page 49]had much wrong done me by the Parish, for I am told, my Mo­ther left me in a Church Porch for that purpose.

where do'st lye?

Hic & Ʋbique—Pauper ubique jacet.

Then you are no constant Lodger?

No, not I.

So I thought, thou look'st as if thou hast not came a nap since thy creation. And where do'st dine to day.

Non hic, sed ubique.

That's no where, and that's it makes thee look so like one of Pharaoh's lean kine, I can hear hither thy belly grumbling out complaints against thy mouth. How dost intend to live?

I know not how Hic, I think I shu'd do better alibi, the neighbouring Country to ubique.

Well Sir, I knew you all this while, and do pitty your miserable condition. I see thou hast no luck at contriving thriving Maxims.

However, I'le not despair, when Fortune's at the lowest ebb, 'twill flow again; my English money being now spent, I hope the worst is past.

Prithee what's the meaning of that thundring conjuring Sentence?

In English 'tis thus:

But what mak'st a' here without a Cloak?

A good reason why, they're all at pawn.

And what's become of the money?

One half I spent, and 'tother I gave my Landlady; and yet she's unsatisfied.

For old acquaintance I'le lend thee a Cloak, but no money, for to tell thee the truth, mine's all gone too, though I set a good face on't; My Landlady, no longer ago then this morning, fir'd a whole broad side at me; for my part, what to do, I know not, unlesse Wit without Money can assist me.

Act. 4. Scen. 4.

LOdgers, quoth he, with a Pox, hang all such poor Scabs, my sheet's shall ne're entertain a­gain such Vermine: But that which vexes me most of all, they bring in their Wenches under the borrowed names of Sister, and Cousin, dancing all night like Faries, their night-rounds, and imitating the Nightingale, singing with a prick at their breast; and they so slobber them, nay before my own face— I know not what they have; I'me sure I have been purposely familiar enough with 'em, (had they but eyes to see't) and have given 'em oppor­tunities—that any man that had guts in his brains, wu'd have laid hold on. A couple of Ninyhammers, that might have had my heart out of my belly (as one may say) had they but done— but what was reasonable, I mean; but they have taken the wrong Sow by the ear— Here comes one of them;

Now will I try how this Fellow's necessity will work upon him.

My sweet loving Landlady, how is't?

Never the better for you.

I hope you shall not be the worse.

Yes, I shall, if I stay till your Bills of Exchange come over, that you so much talk of; can you pay me the residue of my money?

Not at present.

Then will I deal with you no longer, since I find your comings in but short. As I am an honest Woman I can't be so satisfied.

What wu'd you have me do?

Since you cannot pay me, give me good security.

I am unacquainted here, and I have but one thing left me estimable, which I value so much, that I'me very loath to engage it, unlesse great necessity force me to'r.

And what's this fine thing I marvel, that you are so loath to pawn, some counterfeit Jewel, pretended to be given by some fond Gentlewoman or other.

No I assure you, this is no counterfeit: but hap-hazard, [Page 51]will you venter to accept of it in lieu of that small Debt I owe?

What is't? I'le not buy a Pig in a Poak.

'Tis my self.

Ha, ha, ha, I guest so much all this while; Is't not e­nough that thou hast had my Meat, Drink, and Lodging for no­thing, but thou'dst have me too? No Mr. Hic, I'me meat for your betters.

Landlady, I'me not in jeast; if you will, so? if not, so? you may say hereafter that you had an opportunity which can never be recall'd.

Ar't in earnest then?

Yes by my faith am I.

Why this is it I aym'd at: Youth joyn'd with Age is like a Warming-pan to a bed in Winter.

But speak seriously though, do you love me?

I heartily.

And will you be constant?

While life endures.

And when you are married, will you ne're Wench more, lye abroad at nights, come home drunk, and then throw the stools about, call me old Jade, and cry who the Devil brought us together, and it may be, beat me too?

Don't entertain such hard thoughts of me.

Wo'nt you upon every slight occasion forsake my bed, and then you must be brib'd before you'l lye in't again.

I shall not.

Thou'st half perswaded me then. And will you keep me company at home, and be a good Husband?

I shall.

Why then in the first place I forgive thee what thou owest me.

And in the next place lets seal the bargain.

Here's money, go, and redeem what you have at pawn.

And d'yee hear, pray remember you have seal'd the bargain; don't you go now and spend the money's. What a fine thing 'tis to have money, I might have slaid long enough for a Husband, but for that.

Your too late friend, your Cake's dough y' faith.

What d'ye mean?

[Page 52]

I mean to be married.

Married, ha, ha, ha, to whom?

Why to your Comerade: You might have been the man, had you not been an Asse.

Me! I scorn thee.

Scorn me, scorn to be in my debt: Now will I stay no longer; I'le have my money's.

Indeed you must stay till I have it.

Stay me no stayings, I must and will have it: And so farewel.

Base worthlesse man, whose fetter'd heart can cling, Onely for wealth, unto so foul a thing.

Finis Actus Quarti.

ACT. 5. SCEN. I.

HAs no body yet inquired for the Physitian to day?

Yes, one that look't a squint, that came to have his eyes set right: And an old Woman troubled with the Palsie; but they had neither A farthing of money, and so I sent 'em a­way, 'tis ominous to trust handsel.

It's strange no body else comes; were you careful in putting up the Bills?

There's ne're an Inne-door, nor Pissing-place, but is chequer'd with 'em.

There is lately come to Town an Italian Doctor, who (besides his exquisite knowledge in the occult Art of Physiognomy and Chyromancy) perfectly understands the Divine myste­ryes of Astrology; and thereupon can give judgment ac­cording to the good, or evil aspects of the Planets: As for Example, Whether a Maid shall marry her intended Sweet­heart, [Page 53]and can discover who are Maids and who are not, &c. and who can calculate Nativities so truly, that he will tell the most remarkable passages of any one's life, either past, present, or to come; he likewise cures these diseases under written,

To be spoken with at the hours of Nine and Three.

As I take it, you are the Doctor that cures these Dis­eases.

I am Sir.

First then, I shall request your Secrecy.

It belongs to our Profession. But what's your Distem­per?

I've got a Clapp.

Of what continuance is it?

'Tis eight dayes since I first discern'd the Pain.

Then in eight dayes more you'l discern the Cure? Re­cipe, bring me hither two Papers, the one mark't with P. the o­ther with C.

Sir, take of each of these as much as will lye on a Groat, in half a Pint of the decocti­on Guajacum, and Sassaphras, for three mornings together, and 'twill divert the vehement pain in the Scrotum; that done, take of these restringent Pills, three or four, Morning and Evening.

I thank you Sir, What will content you?

I shall leave it to you Sir.

Then know, I purchas'd my Disease at so dear a rate, that I have scarce money enough left to pay for the Cure. How­ever there's something as Earnest.

[Page 54]

I knew him in another Condition; but commonly the Ef­fects of Prodigality concludes in misery: those that sayl in Ships of Pleasure, near minding the Sea-marks of Discretion, are oft suckt in, and swallowed up by the Quick-sands of Delight, or are violently dasht against the Rocks of Luxury. See who's that Knocks at th' door.

'Tis a Maid that would speak with you Sir.

Let her in.

Forsooth, Are you the Outlandish Doctor pray forsooth?

Yes forsooth.

Then my Mistresse has sent me to ask you a Question for­sooth.

What is it?

Whether you can tell Fortunes or no?

I can resolve all difficult Questions. But what is yours?

My Mistresse would fain know how long it will be before she will be married: She has two Suiters, and she would likewise understand which of 'um shu'd be her Husband.

Have Patience Sweetheart till I have consulted with my Authors, and I'le inform you streight. Recipe, reach me hither Ha­ly, Ptolomey, and Argol. How filthily now should I have been puzled, but that I understand how the Case stands between 'em,

The Person whom your Mistresse most affects is tall, and inclining to Black.

'Tis very true, that's Mr. Peregrine.

He is a Traveller, and a well-bred Gentleman, and I find contrary to her Fathers commands, she has promised her self to him, the other she hates. Bid her chear up, for though her Fa­ther intends to cross her in her Election, yet a strange providence shall prohibit him, and she at length matcht to her Parents, and her own content.

I tremble to hear him: for he that knows all this, surely knows that all is not right with me.

Let me see, by my Figure, I find Venus Lady of the Ascendant, and Significatrix of your Mistress, strong and in an Angle; which argues, She's at her own disposal, onely vitiated by the quartile Aspect of Jupiter, our of the fourth House, numa­ting the Father: but he being detrimented by being in his Deca­nate (and Occidental also) his design is frustrated; and besides he is within two degrees of his Retrogradation.

[Page 55]

Redograbation quoth'a; wu'd I had ne're come at him, I fear 'a will raise the Devil by and by; for certainly hee's Con­juring.

The Man she loves not, is of a Middle stature, Brown hair, a Quick eye, and has a Roman nose, and is signifi'd by Saturn, our of the eight house, in twenty four degrees, thirty nine mi­nutes of Leo, and very near a Trine with Venus; but is prevented by the hasty interposition of the Moon's body, she being Anguler, Lady of the Tenth, in her own House, and in Sextil with Sol, out of the Twelfth: which intimates, that your Mistress shall in the very nick of time be delivered by a Woman from him she cannot loye.

This will be welcom News to my Mistress.

Her Husband that must be, is here signified by Mercury, in twenty one degrees, sixteen minutes of Aries, swift in motion, having many Essential dignities, and is applyed to by the body of Venus; which Conjunction being in a fixt sign, and not impeded by the ill Aspect or Application of an Infortunate Planet, (but the inconsiderable quartile of Jupiter) it must needs be that they will be joyn'd speedily.

And will they live happily forsooth?

Let me see my Figure again: after this Conjunction, Venus hastens to a Trine with Jupiter, who is Lord of the Mid­heaven; here I find a speedy reconciliation between her and her Father: besides Pars fortunae is in Semisextile to the cusp of the Ascendant, out of the second, and strengthened by being in the terms and exaltation of Jupiter. Every Significator is so full, that in spight of fate, they'l live happily. I cannot Erre since my Figure is so radical.

Pray you forsooth let me trouble you a little farther: there's a Friend of mine, not very well, and she desires that you wu'd cast her Water.

Oh how my Heart pants to hear what he will say, 'tis my own Water; for I would willingly know the certainty of that which I have suspected on Just grounds this six weeks.

'Tis Raggy—besides there are many more apparent Symptoms. Maid, tell thy Friend, shee's with Child, and I find by a strong Planetary Conjunction, that she shall be deliver'd of Twinns.

Then am I twice undone. But Sir, this will be unwel­come [Page 56]News to her, for she passes for a Maid, therefore if you cu'd help her in this Necessity, I'm confident she wu'd well reward you.

Wud'it thou 'a me be a Murderer?

O no Sir, but she got her Mischance so lately, that it cannot yet be a living thing.

Thou talk'st according to thy Wisdom: here take this Powder, and let her drink off a peny weight every Morning, for nine dayes, and it will do her business.

I thank you good Mr. Doctor, I'le bring you your fee presently.

I think I've fitted her for a Quean, that which I gave her will prevent all her murdering Endeavours. 'Tis a pretty good beginning, Heaven continue.

Act. 5. Scen. 2.

As for what is past, I freely forgive thee, Th'art now as chast in my thoughts, as unspotted Virginity it self.

I hope my frequent tears have washt me white a­gain, and thy forgiveness has restor'd me to the good Opinion of my self for the time to come; Ye Powers above, deprive me imme­diately of that Soul ye gave me, so soon as I shall wrong that duty I owe thee.

And let me not live, when I shall cease to love thee.

My Dearest though I cu'd for ever content my self to discourse in this Dialect with thee, yet now an emergent busi­nesse, which you shall Know more fully hereafter, will hinder us, and require your silence and attention a while. Stand by, Here 'a comes.

See here the performance of your Injunctions: but who's that Gentleman?

A Kinsmans of mine, whose advice I took in this weighty affair. Alderman Thrivewell promis'd to be here too; and see hee's come in the nick.

Save ye All: come Widow, are the Writings drawn?

[Page 57]

Here they are: and take notice that in these I make a free surrender of my whole Estate to the use of Mrs. Anne Hopewell.

Goods and Chattels?

All, all.

Ub, ub, ub, boo! arrow moyster, wilt tow give away all dine own tings, and leave noting upon me poor Kilpathrick: suate shall my wise Juane do for de Cow dat make de buuter­milk, and de bony clabber for dy child and my shelf, and de mu­laghane, and de garraane baane, and de garrane dough, thou didst make promise for me.

Sirrah leave thy howling.

My shelf no howle, me make speak for you: By St. Pathrick and St. Shone Batty, my shelf will make no servant for de.

Come, come, Sign, sign:

So, so.

Now Madam, I've done my part, there's nothing wan­ting but the performance of yours.

Which I shall quickly do; according to my pro­mise, I freely bestow on you, all the right and title I have in my self.

That's a guift greater then the riches of the Indie [...]s.

No such matter Sir, 'tis none at all.

How's that?

Can you give away another man's interest?

No.

Then cannot I give away my self: that man, she Kinsman as I told you, has been my Master this seven years, and shall be all, till I am masterd by death.

Am I now in the Meridian of my wisdom, thus cheated by Female subtilty.

Ha, ha, I like thy wit Wench. Well, I have such an other at home, a notable Girle at a pinch.

I give you much joy of your purchase Sir, fare you well.

Col. is this Debenture-land, or are you onely an Adventurer: if so, you may come in among the forty nine men.

Shoole a crogh, manam a dioule, thou greisie micheer, by my soulwation joy a chree, y told dee, de English vid put de sheat pon efry podyes.

[Page 58]

Woman was the first that ever took the Devils counsil, and first communicated it to man, to the ruine of both their terrestrial happinesse; and still I see he makes use still of that Sex, as his principle Instruments to perpetrate the most notori­ous evils. Impudence is a hereditary vice in 'em, other wise how cu'd she have look't me in the face, whilst she made me swallow her guilded Pills of dissimulation; and so intended to kill, when she did most pleasingly smile; they are Basilisks that destroy with their looks; Harpies that allure with their face, to murder with their talons; 'twas well she had not cheated me out of my soul too.

May starsing come to her sheeks, strepoh granach, and may her fader's shild make dye in de prishon.

Act. 5. Scen. 3.

WEll Jane, what news have you brought me from the Conjurer?

Mistris, believe me if there be a Divel in Hell, he's one.

Prithee why?

Why? he knows what every one does, and I think he knows their thoughts: He describ'd Mr. Peregrine, and Mr. Con­triver, as perfectly as if he had seen 'em a hundred times; and he sayes forsooth, that you shall speedily have Mr. Peregrine; and that Mr. Contriver's design of marrying you, shall be prevented by a woman: And then he fell a conjuring up of all the Devils in Hell I think; he was so well acquainted with 'em, that he cal­led 'em by their names; as Jupiter, Saturn, and Mars, and I know not what beside.

This news has reviv'd me.

O but Mistris—

What's the matter?

O I'me undone, I'me undone.

Why, prithee why?

Im'e asham'd to tell you forsooth.

However I suspect what it is. I ever told you what your ramping on mens backs wu'd come to.

[Page 59]

Alas that did me no harm: But will you keep my se­crets forsooth?

I will, what is't?

About six weeks since, Robin the drawer and I, after all the rest were gone to bed, sate up late by the fire side; Robin in­deed has born me affections any time this twelve month's day; af­ter a great deal of talk, he told me he wu'd marry me, and upon that he kist me, I think, a thousand times, then I promis'd I wu'd have none but him: then again he fell a kissing, and hugging, and tumbling me, and—I'me sure I was never well since; therefore to know what ail'd me, I carried my water to the Do­ctor, and he told me, she that made it was with child.

Is it so Huswife, that you have made my Fathers house a Bawdy-house?

Nay, good Mistris, did you not promise me not to be angry?

Is it possible that Robin's so gamesome, and you fond sool so heedlesse of your credit, well, you shall both walk for't, and then try whether wantonnesse will maintain you.

Good Mistris forgive.

Well Huzzy, the love I ever bore you makes me pitty your folly. I'le get a friend-shall sawder up the crack of your honesty; follow me.

Act. 5. Scen. 4.

WHy shu'd I raile at Fortune, calling her Whore, unconstant Queane, and the like; when my own soolish self, is the sole Author of my present misery. Had I not been infatuated, I might easily have prognosticated my fu­ture condition, by the courses I then took. I cannot stay at home, the distemper of my body maketh me every where restlesse. Nei­ther durst I stir abroad, for fear of Arrests. Oh insupportable condition! from bad premises, I cu'd now draw a worse con­clusion: Farewel fond Femal pleasures, and welcome that Pilot that will stear me to the land of forgetfulness, where my weather­beaten Vessel may be safely moor'd up, from the tempestuous, and [Page 60]swelling billows of all misfortunes; Oh—I'me right enough serv'd. Here comes one that will plague me worse then the Pox it self.

How now Phantastick, what's the matter, thou canst not steer aright; surely thou'st lost thy Rutter: You must be firing so often, that I thought you'd blow out your Brich-pin. Surely thy touch-hole is very foul, for thou recoylest wickedly; let me see thee walk,—Bad, bad—I fear th'art past mending by a a Sereing, so that the utmost of thy expectation is e're long to be all at slitters. Well, I am sorry that so good an Hackney should so quickly be beaten of his speed, and dry founder'd. You see how drinking and whoring makes you draw your legs after you; come, thou must be stew'd, else thou'lt ne're be wholesom meat for the worms.

Prithee Hic forbear; my folly is so lively delineated by my fancy, that I am tortur'd thereby, worse than by the Disease, I now groan under. Yet this benefit Experience has bestow'd upon me, to know, How meerly imaginary was that Recreation I ever aim'd at, and what miserable effects ensue the enjoyment thereof.

I cannot much condemn thee in thy just complaints; for they have made thee look like a—I know not what— A male Factor that has been hung up two or three years in Gib­bets;— Why, thou art ham-shrunk, and broken-winded too. Don't thy bones ach pockily? stand farther off, thy breath is none of the sweetest. I perceive 'tis come to a snuffing in the head, a pox on that dampish ayre thou breath'st in last.

A dampish ayre indeed; but if thou wilt curse it, let be some other way, for it has that already.

Let me advise you to be very careful, that you blow your face tenderly, thy nose will never indure it else. If I am not mistaken 'tis already not so fast, as it shu'd be; don't you observe it shake in the Hilts.

Never give over; now I see th'art cruel, thou terrifiest me worse then a salivation, or a clensing loation.

Not so fast; move easily, you are but tender: going so fast may indanger the leaving of a League behind; thus much to be even with thee; and now for one that shall new vamp thee again.

Act. 5. Scen. 5.

SIr, My Conscience, and that principle of hone­sty, that I have ever preserved inviolated, will not permit me to be accessary to so soul an injury: Though you may have just cause to complain against the subtilty and fraudu­lent dissimulation of a woman, (my wife) yet you shall not have the least seeming ground against me. 'Tis true, what once was your's, is now lawfully (though not justly) my wives, and shall be your's again upon consideration.

What's that worthy Sir?

Your Estate being two hundred pound per Annum, if you will lend me a years anuity (but conditionally that you shall ne're require it' again) till I shall freely confesse, that the im­provement thereof hath made me fully able.

Sir, your extraordinary civility and honesty deserves far more.

'Tis only that sum, and the assurance of your friend­ship, that I desire.

This very act of yours, commands me to satisfie you in both.

Act. 5. Scen. 6.

COme, come, never blush Daughter, 'tis time e­nough for that anon, when no body can see you.

Fairest Mistris, 'twill not now be many hours before you'l both change your name, and condition too.

Dearest Father, are you then so cruel to wed me against my mind; certainly you cannot but have heard of the ill effects of forc'd Marriage.

Hold your prating, 'tis now no time to talk of this.

[Page 62]

Mr. Alderman, I am come to informe you of that, which will be dangerous to conceal longer.

Mr. Peregrine, I am glad to see you; but what i'st Sir, that we may speedily prevent it.

'Tis only the preserving your Daughter from being per­jur'd; by doing which, you'l likewise invest me with the pos­session of my own.

What d'ye mean?

Mrs. Cassandra, your Daughter, who is as firmly mine, as vows, protestations, and invocation of Heaven (voluntarily proceeding out of her mouth) can make her.

How, how?

'Tis very true Sir, and I'm confident she's too virtuous to be guilty (willingly) of the breach of such solemn Promises.

Sir, you do but flatter your self, I cannot suspect her to be so facile, as to bestow her self so lightly on one, that's here to day, and gone to morrow.

Pray be you silent, you troublesome contriving Cox­comb, unworthiness in the abstract—

Mr. Peregrine, I shu'd have been glad to have known your Intentions sooner; therefore I shall desire you to be silent too, for the Pretences are past taking effect.

Dear Father you'l break my Heart if you say so, for I must confess, I promis'd no lesse than that worthy Gentleman has ex­prest, as for my fault (if it may be accounted any) I humbly ask your pardon.

Who's there? Come in.

By your leave Gentlemen—Oh, are you here Sir! I heard of your Projects in England, which made me make the more hast over, to prevent you from doing that, which wu'd undo me, that am your Wife, and her, that you intend to marry; and likewise save your self from the Gallows.

The Woman raves.

No Sir, I'm in my right wits, though the baseness and unworthiness of my Husband's carriage (that hangs down his Head like a Sheep-biter) were enough to distract any one.

Is 'a your Husband then?

Yes (to my sorrow) this five years.

[Page 63]

Oh Goodness! now are the Predictions of that rare Astro­loger come about: Oh thou Villain; that cu'dst thus attempt to undo A harmlesse Maid.

Pray Lady, were you She that was design'd for his Bride?

So it seems, though against my will.

Oh thou monster-treacherous Villain! but that thy Conscience is sear'd, it cu'd not but hinder thee from committing so foul a Crime, upon so fair a Person. Is't not enough that thou hast trampled me under thy feet thus long, but must thou seek a­nother subject to execute Injuries upon. Why don't you speak, and be hang'd? now y'are dumb, (with a pox to ye;) but if you were alone with me, you'd find Tongue enough, and Hands too.

Get out of my Doors dissembling Monster— O wicked Raskal—

How just is Heaven! I see there's no shelter from Di­vine vengeance, no resuge from the All-seeing eye. Now I am betray'd to my own deservings. Good Sir Pardon me, and Lady forget me for ever: Dearest Wife, remember not the many Injuries I have done thee, but forgive me. Now will I pra­ctise Repentance, and make it my daily study, how I may for the future live inoffensively.

I like this Recantation well, because 'a never us'd it before.

Well, I'le forgive, and let me request all here to do the like.

We do.

Loving Father, this Obstacle being remov'd, I know none remaining, but that you may be pleas'd, to let me perform my Promise to my dear Friend Peregrine.

By permitting which, you'le render me most happy.

Marriages are made in Heaven, and questionlesse it was there decreed your Union; therefore my blessing on you both.

Sir, in that Word you have compleated my Happynesse; and now Lady we are ariv'd at that Port, from whence I hope we shall never weigh Anchor more, nor never part, till summon'd by Death's pale-fac't Messenger.

How now Mr. Hic, what's the matter now?

[Page 64]

Matter enough, Matter—a—mony.

Prithee, with whom?

With my honest Landlady here.

Nay then we'l make but one Dinner for two Wed­dings.

This is as heart can wish. Phantastick, yet for all thou laugh'st and jear'st at me in my necessity, I wu'd have so much pi­ty now of thee in thine, as to make thee my Tapster, if thou canst go in Stilts, for thy Legs will never carry thee up stairs and down. But Gallants,

That being ended, we'le consume the night In those sweet Pastimes, that our Loves delight.