THE Dumb Lady: Or, The FARRIAR MADE PHYSICIAN. As it was acted at the THEATRE-ROYAL. By John Lacy, Gent.

LONDON: Printed for Thomas Dring, at the White-Lyon, next Chancery-Lane end in Fleetstreet. 1672.

To the High-Born and most hopeful Prince, CHARLES, Lord Limrick, and Earl of Southampton.

GREAT SIR,

WHen I began to write this Dedication, my hand shook, a fear possest me, and I trembled; my Pen fell from me, and my whole frame grew disorder'd, as if blasted with some sudden upstart Comet. Such Awe and Reverence waits on Dignity, that I now find it fit for me to wish, I had been refused the honour of my Dedication, rather than undertake a task so much too great for me. How shall I excuse this bold and saucie fault? How shall my mean unworthy pen, render you your Attributes? Now I find presumption is a sin in­deed. I have given my self a wound beyond the cure of common men: Heal me then, Great Sir, for where Princes touch, the Cure is infallible. And now since you so graciously have received my Farriar, who dares say he is no Physician? When you vouch safe to call him Doctor, he has Commenced, and from your Mouth he has taken his Degree; for what you say, is, and ought to be: such a power is due to you from the Greatness of your Blood: I, and my abject Muse had perisht but for you; and in such distress, whither should we flee for shelter, but to him that has power to spread his wings and co­ver [Page] us? and you have done it generously: Yet am I not to wonder at this Vertue in you, since your high Birth can do no less for you than to make you good, and you are so: and may that Goodness and Humility, which so early appears in you, increase to a full perfection: may your Vertues prove as beautiful as your person; may they still indeavour to out-vie each other, yet nei­ther obtain, but still walk hand in hand, till your Ver­tues in you be reverenc'd by all Mankind, and your love­ly Person honoured by all Women, and so may you con­tinue to a long and happy life. But I need not wish this, nor the world doubt it; for already you're possest of all those Vertues, that men hereafter may reasona­lly expect from you: for being supported with Maje­sty of one side, and with so admired and beautiful a Mother on the other, besides her great and honourable Birth, on such sure foundations, you cannot fail our hopes, and that you never may, shall be for ever the prayers of

Your most faithful, and most obedient servant, John Laey.

The Epistle to the Reader.

GEntle Reader, (for so most Epistles begin) being conscious of my own weakness (for so they go on) I let thee know my own modesty had kept me from the Press, but for the importunity of friends, (and so they make an end.)

By this you see, Poetry consists more of Fancie than truth; so do the Poets too, or else, why should they seem ashamed to come into the Press? when I know their Bowels languish within them till they are there: Vain-glory being the chief ingredient, that makes up the spirit of Poetry, and the grand Inducement that puts us all in print. There is a kind of Charm in Poetry, 'tis like Tobacco and Chymistry; for if you once take the one, and undertake the other, you are fixt to the free-hold never to be parted. So fares it with the Dablers in the Dew of Pernassus: no revilings, no shameful reproaches can discourage us; still we write on, still we are fixt to the free-hold. I have observed, how much more precious to a Poet the Issue of his Brain is than that of his Loyns: for I have known them bury Children without grief or trouble; but the Issue of their Brain is so dear and tender to them, that if you go about to perswade them but to cut a Play or Poem shorter, they are so concern'd, that every Line you cut is valued at a Joynt, and every Speech a Limb lopt off Without doubt there is a kind of madness in Poetry, or else how can a man be so vainly possest as to think his own works exceed all other mens? That there are such men is but too true; for, I my self have thought so of my own Poetry: and when I that am so mean an under-shurb do prove so vain­ly mad, the tall Cedars sure must needs be shaken with out-ragious fits; and in those fits they write raptures, and fly to [Page] the Skies, and get among the Gods, and makes such work, that you would swear they'r all breaking up School, and coming down amongst us. For my part, I wonder they have not come all this while, I'm sure they have been sufficiently provoked. I thank my incapacity I am not so far gone in Poetry as to arrive at those fits; yet I have this to say, that I have had my ends upon Poetry, and not Poetry upon me: for if Poetry had gained its ends on me, it had made me mad; but that I having my ends on it, appears in my getting money by it, which was shewn plentifully on my Poets days; but that I thank my friends for, and not the desert of my Plays: and I wish, Reader, that you may prove as kind to the Printer, as you were to me, when you were a hearer; and that my Far­riar may prove as good a servant to him, as formerly to me, who am, Reader,

Your humble servant, John Lacy.

PROLOGUE.

HEre I am, and not asham'd who know it,
I humbly come your Forma paup'ris Poet:
Not Hector-like, that one half-year has writ,
And fights th'other half to defend that wit:
Nor have I brought you here a second Play,
Like him that pretends preaching twice a day;
And when you gravely come i'th' afternoon,
He puts you off with repetition:
Saying, you may remember in the morn
I told you thus, and so, and where, and when;
So spins out his hour with the same agen.
Though such things pass on those that Sermons hear,
It will not do with Play-judgers, I fear;
I would you had their grace, and they your wit,
Sermons would then be hard as Plays to hit;
And easie Scenes would pass upon you, when
Grace above Wit abounds in Gentlemen.
How would the Poets all rejoyce to see
This age appear i'th' old simplicity;
To have your wives and you come ten times o'er,
To see the pudding eaten in Jane shore;
To cry up the bold Beauchamps of the Stage?
There was a blessed understanding age.
I would you were such but for one three days,
Till the poor Poet gather up his Bayes;
Or else my less than fifth-rate wit I find
Will force me beg you'l not be just, but kind:
Yet use me as you please, my comfort is,
If by your vengeance I must needs be worried,
I'm not the first small Poet has miscarried▪

The Actors Names.

  • GErnette An old rich Gentleman.
  • Olinda His Daughter, pretending dumbness, and after that madness.
  • Suqre Softhead Her Suiter.
  • Leander Her Lover, but not permitted.
  • Drench A Farrier beaten to a Doctor.
  • Isabel His Wife.
  • Jarvis Servant to Gernette.
  • Nurse His Wife, and House-keeper to Gernette.
  • Mrs. Nibby Cousin to Gernette.
  • Mr. Othentick A Parson, and Brother to Leander.
  • Three Doctors Of Physick.
  • Women servants Attending on Olinda.
  • Two Foot-boys.
  • Patients.
  • Two Whippers Of Bedlam.
  • Neighbours.

[Page 1]THE Dumb Lady.

ACT I. SCENE I.

Enter Jarvis and Servant.
Ser.

THe like was never heard of, to have a sweet young Lady as she was going to be married, to fall dumb.

Jar.

If my wife had done so too, I think it had been ne'er the worse for the Common-wealth: but it would make a­ny woman dumb to be designed for such a Fopp as Squire Soft­head.

Ser.

He is a fopp of a new stamp, I would not marry a milk­maid to him.

Jar.

I would he had my wife, or any that would make him a cuckold: he has turned away twenty servants because they do not call him Squire oft enough: I shall be sick every time I hear the word Squire, he has made it so ridiculously loath­some.

Ser.

He has been called so from his Cradle in the Country, where the title of Squire had always great worship, till the fool crept in amongst them, of which he is chief.

Jar.

Yes Faith, for if there were an Army of Fopps (as tru­ly I think they might be raised here) Squire Softhead must be General; he has one faculty, he will maintain a quarrel with­in three words of striking, and then he will eat cold Custard.

Ser.

Hang him; but dost thou think my young Mrs. is dumb indeed?

Jar.
[Page 2]

You saw the Doctors could not cure her, but if she do counterfeit do not blame her, for 'twere pitty upon pitty that the Sqr. (a Pox Sqr. him,) should have her; here they all come.

Enter old Gernette, his daughter lead by servants as dumb, Sqr. Softhead her suitor, Nibby and Jarvis.
Ger.

To have my Child struck dumb, upon her intended Wedding day, and to have the Doctors give her over too; O my unhappy stars!

Soft.

Are the stars such unhappy things, are they the cause of her dumbness? by the heart of a horse if I thought so I'd complain of 'em.

Nib.

Complain of the Stars! who would you complain too Good Sqr. Softhead?

Soft.

I'd complain to the Sun and Moon, I warrant you they'd not uphold them in their Raskally twinkling Tricks.

Nib.

Alas poor Sqr. the Sun is always in haste, he ne'er stays to hear complaints.

Soft.

Why then I'l watch them when they fall, and if the proudest star of them all light within my ground, by the heart of a horse I'l have an Action of Trespass against them, and if the Law once take hold of 'em, I'l warrant 'em for twinkling a­gain in haste.

Nib.

You were best get a star-trap to catch 'em in.

Soft.

I warrant you a Law-trap will do as well.

Nib.

Do you think your daughter had not better be dumb and dead, than marry such a ridiculous bruit as this?

Ger.

O but his estate lies so sweetly round mine, that when she understands the blessing, she'l dote of him as I do.

Nib.

Marry the Devil dote on him; why sir, he never comes into her Chamber, but he is all of a foaming sweat, throws off his Periwigg, and no one knows whether he or that smells rankest; then he runs to the Looking-glass, rubs his head with the dressing cloth, puts on his Periwigg, then combs out the Powder upon his Mrs. so makes a scurvy leg, and leaves her—there's a lover with a Pox to him. But Sqr. why do you prophane the stars so?

Soft.

Prophane? there's a company of vagabond wandring [Page 3] stars that doe nothing but run up and down the sky to tell fortunes, just like our Gipsies i'th' high-way, I know 'em well e­nough. Heart of a horse, to lose a wife for want of three words, if she had said but to have and to hold, we had had no farther use of her tongue as I know of.

Hib.

Why so, Sqr.

Soft.

Do not call me Sqr. Mrs. bare Sqr. without Softhead sounds scurvily, and 'tis scurvily done to call me so, and as scurvily I take it, and by the heart of a horse if you were not a woman, I'd wound you scurvily.

Jar.

Truly methinks there's such a sympathy betwixt Sqr: and Softhead, that 'tis a thousand pitties to part them.

Nib.

I beseech you Sqr. which is the Ancientest family, the Softheads or the Haufheads?

Soft.

The Softheads are the Ancientest family in Europe, for Adam's youngest Son got a knock in his Cradle, and the Soft­heads ever since derive themselves in a direct line from him.

Ger.

How does my child? thou hast thy health I hope.

Olin.

A a a a a a.

Soft.

Heart of a horse, I believe she counterfeits dumbness: but I have a trick to make her speak again if you'l give me leave.

Ger.

With all my heart, Sir, what is it?

Soft.

Why I'l go call her Jade and Whore, and that will pro­voke her to call me Rogue and Raskal, you know.

Ger.

Tho' it be upon such rude terms, I would be glad to hear her speak, Sir.

Soft.

Come on: Why do not you speak the words of Matri­mony, you Jade, that you might be my Wife, you little Whore? Look you Sir, she has given me an answer.

Shee takes him a cuff o'th' ear.
Ger.

I, but 'tis but with her hand, Sir.

Soft.

However 'tis an answer Sir, and she may marry me with her hand as well as with her tongue, for it seems to me to be the stronger confirmation.

Ger.

Squire, if you love my child, endeavour to find all pos­sible helps: where's my Servants? Run and ride all ways ima­ginable, leave no ground unsearcht, nor means unthought of to recover her.

Nib.
[Page 4]

And good Sqr. Softhead, find out a wise man to cure her: do you know one when you see him?

Soft.

By my troth to my knowledge I never saw a wise man in my life.

Jar.

Do you send a fool to find out a wise man?

Nib.

If he cannot find a wise man, a wise man will find out him quickly.

Ger.

Come lead my Child to her Chamber, and ride all ways and all Countreys to find out wise and able men.

Soft.

Jarvis, how shall we do to know a wise man when we see him; what marks and signs have they?

Exeunt all but Jar­vis and Softhead.
Jar.

Why, their dress and their speech they have from the stool of formality, and they have likely a bald head with a sattin cap on't, a narrow band, with a broad hat, a kain grow­ing in their hands, with the silver head always bobbing at their lips, and they that are thus habited are taken for wise men.

Soft.

Why then I may be a wise man, if a Silver Kain will make me so; but prethee what do these wise men do?

Jar.

Bi'rlady that will pusse a wise man to tell you; for I ne­ver heard of any thing that was wisely done in my life, there­fore I think wise men do nothing.

Soft.

Then I will be wise, whatsoever it cost me, for I love to do nothing above all things i'th' world: but come let us go the right way to find a wise man now.

Jar.

I'l warrant you go right, for we'l go directly East.

Soft.

Why you fool, the wise men came out o'th' East, and dost thou think to find them there, when they left the place.

Jar.

I, but Sir, they returned back into their own Countrey again.

Soft.

Did they? why then the wise men of the East are not so wise as the wise men of France, for if they get into another Country, the Devil cannot drive them home again.

[Exeunt.
Enter Drench a farrier, and Isabel his wife.
Dr.

I say Dame Isabel I'l have it my way.

Isa.

Have it my way? why, who are you, Sir? art thou any [Page 5] more than my husband, fellow? how camest thou thus auda­cious then to say, I'l have it my way? say that again, and by the faith I have in my Confidant, my Gallant shall make thee an example.

Dr.

A ha, have you your Confidant and your Gallant, Wife?

Isa.

Yes that I have. You know when the great ones have done with a fashion, it comes amongst we mean Madams into th'Country at last, and I have as much privilege due to me as any free born people in the world has, and we women will maintain the liberties of the she subject with our lives and for­tunes.

Dr.

Bi'rlady Wife you rant like a free born subject indeed: but pray you, what do you with the word free born subject.

Isa.

I have it to shew that I am one of the free born, and may have my Gallant with all the perquisites belonging there­unto.

Dr.

Why thou straglest as far out of the bonds of Matrimo­ny as if thou'dst a good Jointure to justifie thee in't: there is a thing called duty Wife; the Parson you may remember said so when he married us.

Isa.

I no more remember what the Parson said when he mar­ried us, than what he has said ever since when he preacht.

Dr.

The Jade's mad beyond recovery, a Pox of the liber­ty of the she subject: Wife there are five Children by the fire side, pray you how many of 'em's mine, Wife? I think 'tis high time to ask that question.

Isa.

I must not be so much concerned with thee as to call thee husband, therefore Mr. Drench, the first child was yours.

Dr.

And whose are the rest?

Isa.

The rest are mine fellow, let that suffice thee.

Dr.

And but one of them mine, Wife?

Isa.

No but one yours, and for this following reason, af­ter my first child you neglected your family duty, Mr. Drench, and when you grew negligent of me, I grew careful of my self, and from that care came the rest of my children, Mr. Drench.

Dr.

And those four children it seems, are free born subjects▪ I find a Wife a little modish, is worse than a Wife a little old­ish: [Page 6] Wife I'l downright poison your free born children.

Isa.

O thou ungallantified Beast; wou'dst thou destroy thy own flesh and blood?

Dr.

Not mine, but I will yours, Wife.

Isa.

Why, are not man and wife one flesh, and then are not your children mine, and mine yours, Mr. Drench?

Dr.

Faith, I doubt this argument is the general security that mankind has to warrant their off-springs Legitimate.

Isa.

Sirrah, talk of poisoning my children and I'l have thee so gallantified.

Dr.

Gallantified? prethee what's that Wife?

Isa.

To be gallantified, is to be soundly cudgel'd, sirrah: there is another point of she doctrine for you.

Dr.

Pray you, let me ask you a question, Madam; nay be not ashamed to be called Madam, for as mean people as your self has the impudence to own it, therefore Madam are you true to your Gallant?

Isa.

I, by my life am I, I else deserve to lose my privileges and be a bondwoman, I, and condemned to my own husband.

Dr.

That part of me that's Gentleman forgives thee freely for that; but the rough part, which is Farrier, must be reveng'd; & though your gallant carry your cudgel of love, I carry your cudgel of chastisement: I plead my privileges Wife, and must beat you: take this and that, and that and this.

[beats her.
Isa.

Help, murther, murther, will you kill me you villain?

Dr.

Kill you? alas this is but complement, Wife, and 'tis a new fashion come into the Country Wife, so I have it to shew you that I'm one o'th' free born Wife.

[beats her again.
Isa.

Murther, murther, help, murther.

N.

What's here, fie, fie, neighbour Drench, hold for shame: what, beating your Wife?

[Enter a Neighbour.
Isa.

I marry is he Sir, what's that to you? suppose I long for a beating, I have been getting him in a good humour this two months to do it, and now you must disturb us.

N.

Nay if you long for a beating I'm sorry I disturb'd you, I have done.

Isa.

You wicked fellow do you know what ye've done? [Page 7] you have taken him off of the sweetest humour: I see by his looks I shall not get another blow of him to save my life.

Dr.

The jade is mad beyond all cure.

N.

I, for none but a mad woman would long for a beating, but farewell neighbours, I have done.

Dr.

You're an impertinent fellow to begin: Men that part rancounters are often kill'd or hurt, and therefore you ought Neighbour to be soundly cudgel'd.

[Beats him.
N.

Nay good neighbour hold, hold.

Isa.

You see he has taken off his anger from me, and now you must have all the sweet blows you raskal.

Dr.

So he shall, for if I had known thou hadst long'd for a beating, thou shouldst not have had a blow to've sav'd thy life, but you shall have it.

[Beats him again.
N.

Hold, hold, hold; if ere I part man and Wife, if ere I put my hand betwixt the bark and the tree again, may my fingers bear fruit, and the boys rob my Orchard: A woman to long for a beating? what a blessing 'twere if all our Wives would long sol.

[Exit Neigh.
Dr.

Now I know you long for a beating Wife, lest you should miscarry I'l beat you wonderfully.

Isa.

Hold, hold, my longing is over indeed.

Dr.

Is it? why then I'l to the Wood and drench a sick horse, and by that time I return I hope you may come to your long­ing again, and then I shall plead the liberty of the subject, and claw your free born sides again.

[ Exit Drench.
Isa.

To be beaten thus! if I be not reveng'd, say I'm a wo­man without Gaul or invention; let me think a little, they say when a woman means mischief, if she but look upon her Apron­strings the Devil will help her presently; I'l try him: who is here?

Enter Jarvis and Softhead to her.
Soft.

We may search long enough, the Devil a wise man that I can find or hear of.

Jar.

I but Sir, you must know there be several sorts of wise men, and our business is to find out a wise Physician.

Isa.

Either the Proverb's false, or the Devil's very dull, for [Page 8] he has helpt me to no invention yet.

[Aside.
Soft.

But all the profess'd Doctors which we take to be wise Physicians have given her over you see.

Jar.

I, but there may be skilful and wise men in Physick that do not profess it.

Soft.

You say very true, for I was cured once o'th' belly ach by an old woman and a warm Trencher, when all the Doctors i'th' Town had given me over.

Isa.

God a mercy Devil, I have it i' Faith, these Gentlemen have given me a hint for a revenge upon my barbarous husband: Gentlemen I overheard your discourse, and I find you are in great distress for a wise Physician.

Soft.

What then, does such a Countrey creature as thou know any thing that's wise?

Isa.

I know not what your worship means by wise.

Soft.

I dare swear thou dost not, for I that am a Squire scarce know my self.

Isa.

But Sir I can help you to the most excellent Phisician upon earth, but then he's a man of the most strangest hu­mours.

Soft.

'Slid no matter for his humours, so he be wise; where is he?

Isa.

Why in that very Copse, blooding and drenching of a sick horse.

Soft.

Why, that's a wise Farrier, not a wise Physician wo­man.

Isa.

But he is a famous Physician of Padua, and has retired himself on purpose to avoid Patients.

Soft.

Then he is a fool and no Physician; for the wise Do­ctors never leave a Patient whilst he has either breath in's bo­dy or money in's purse.

Isa.

I but Sir, this is not a man that values money.

Soft.

Then I say he is not a wise man. Come away Jarvis, this cannot be he we look for.

Isa.

Why you must know Sir, he exceeds the World for Physick, but then his humour is to deny his profession and ac­knowledge nothing but Ignorance; then Sir, he looks so like a [Page 9] Farrier, that you would swear he were one indeed; then he is such a Clown.

Jar.

The greater the Scholar, still the more Clown; and the further he is gone in Learning, the more ignorant still in other things.

Soft.

I, but is he far gone in Physick? can he make a dumb woman speak?

Isa.

A dumb woman speak? I'll undertake he shall provoke a dumb divel to speak.

Soft.

That's the wise man I want: pray you where is he?

Isa.

Why, Sir, he is easily spoke with, but you'll find it wonderful difficult to get him to a Patient; neither gold, complement, nor other fair usage could ever yet work upon him, and yet there is a way to gain him.

Soft.

Heart of a horse, pox to him, what way can that be?

Isa.

A way that you'll think strange, but very true: he could never yet be brought to a Patient without being rudely us'd and soundly cudgil'd to it.

Soft.

Nay, by the heart of a horse, he shall want for no beating.

Isa.

I marry, Sir, that will do it, and nothing else i'th' world; yet he will carry his seeming simplicitie so cunningly, that I hold a wager you come away perswaded that he is no Physician.

Jar.

I hold a wager he shall own it, I'll make him commence Doctor else with a good cudgel, I warrant you: but is he such a rare Physician?

Isa.

Truly, Sir, but two days since he brought a mad wo­man to her wits again, that was suspected never to have any; nay, he has taken mens legs and arms off, and set 'em on sound again.

Jar.

That's beyond Surgeons-hall: sure he can conjure.

Soft.

I'll be hang'd if this fellow be not a spie of the Ver­tuosos, and is come hither disguis'd to betray secrets in Nature.

Jar.

But does he take no other fees but beating Mrs?

Isa.

Of a certain nothing else, Sir.

Jar.

I would some Doctors, I know, could be brought to [Page 10] that, I would want no Physick, nor he should want no fees i'faith.

Isa.

Gentlemen, you'll find him in the wood with a leather Apron, and a Hammer by his side, as if he were a real Smith; and he studies as much to be a Farrier now, as formerly a Physician; and as his drink was altogether Wine before, now Farrier-like he studies all sorts of Ale, and drinks them soundly too: So, farewel Gentlemen, you'll find all things true as I have said, and my Raskal, I hope, will be cudgel'd from a Far­rier to a Doctor.

[ Exit Isa.
Jar.

Why, this is such an humorous Physician, as yet I have not heard of.

Soft.

Slid, we should have ask'd the woman one thing, it may be he delights to be beaten with one sort of cudgel more than another.

Jar.

We'll be so civil as to ask him that, if he puts us to it: But come, let us into the wood and find him out.

Soft.

Hark, I hear the trees burl in the wood: Slid, here's a man coming towards us, I hope 'twill prove the Doctor.

Jar.

By mass he has a leather Apron on, and a Hammer by his side.

Soft.

'Tis he, what if we cudgel him before we speak to him?

Jar.

Not for the world, Sir; that would be rude indeed. Save you, Sir.

[Enter Drench.
Dr.

Save me, Sir? spare your Complement till I'm dying, and then I'll thank you for't.

Soft.

By the heart of a Horse I like him for that, for what should a man be saved for till he is dead, you know.

Jar.

Sir, in short, we come (having business with you) to pay you all the respect and reverence that's due to your worship.

Dr.

Respect, reverence and worship! you're very merry, Gentlemen: pray you, Sir, what part of me is it that you find worshipful?

Jar.

O Sir, it is your vertues that we admire.

Dr.

Vertue! I never heard the word in my life, no nor the use on't.

Soft.

Thou speak'st like an honest man, for by my troth I see no sign of vertue about thet.

Jar.
[Page 11]

Slid, you'll spoil all to be so blunt with him: Sir, we understand you are a great Doctor.

Dr.

I understand my self to be a great horse Doctor, Sir.

Soft.

But pray you, Sir, be a man Doctor for my sake; by this cudgel it will be the better for you, if you knew all.

Jar.

Sir, in short, we know you to be a famous Doctor of Padua, and we wish you would leave these abject thoughts of being a Farrier, and follow your own worthy profession of Physick.

Dr.

Now you provoke me, Sir: do you think a Farrier in­feriour to a Physician? he is the son of a Mare that thinks a horse has not as many diseases as a man.

Soft.

And he is the son of a whore that thinks a Squire has not as many diseases as a Horse: and Friend, take heed how you make comparisons, for you'll have all the Squires i'th' Country about your ears upon this score.

Dr.

Country Squires I shall deal well enough with, and I shall justifie a Horse has more diseases than a Squire, and take the honour of Knighthood to help you.

Soft.

You lye, and for the honour of Squire-hood I'll dye a virgin-Martyr.

[offers to draw.
Jar.

Hold, hold, Sir, the latter end of a Squires argument is still quarrelling.

Soft.

Without quarrelling then I'll prove, that Squire and Squiress have more diseases than a Horse.

Dr.

I, with the diseases of their own, that Nature never meant them, I grant you.

Soft.

And first, I prove a Squiress, that is, a woman, may be dumb.

Dr.

And I answer, a horse cannot speak, set that against that: and yet I'll undertake to make a horse speak before you shall make a woman dumb, Sir.

Jar.

Good Squire let us mind our business: In short, Sir, will you own your Profession? are you a Doctor or no?

Dr.

A pox of a Doctor, I am a down-right Farrier, I can give you a drench, or out you for the staggers when you'r drunk; I have no more learning than a horse: pray open my [Page 12] head, and see if you can find a Physician there.

Jar.

Since no means but the extremity will make you own your profession, we will cudgel you with as much complement as we can, Sir.

Soft.

A cudgel is but a course complement, I confess.

Dr.

Hey, good boys i'faith, what a Devil mean you, Gen­tlemen?

Jar.

Squire, do you strike the first blow.

Soft.

No, do you Jarvis, for the first blow will bear an Action, you know, and thou'rt a poor fellow, he can recover nothing of thee.

Dr.

What a Devil's the matter?

[Beats him.
Jar.

Fall on, fall on, will you confess you'r a Doctor?

Dr.

Hold, hold, hold, I will be a Physician.

Jar.

Will ye own, you are one, Sir.

[Beats him again.
Dr.

I am one, I am one, hold, I am a very good Physician, I feel I am.

Enter Isa.
Isa.

Yes, Gentlemen; he is a rare Physician, and would con­fess it too, but that he would not lose the pleasure of a cud­gel, for once a week he longs for a beating: now you and I are even, Sir.

[ Exit Isa.
Dr.

A pox upon you, is this your design? I'll be reveng'd, you Jade, to the purpose: If I should say she is my wife, and that I'm a very Black-smith, they'd not believe me, 'twere but the way to be cudgel'd again.

Jar.

Nay, come, Sir, what are you falling into a relapse again?

Dr.

No, no, hold, as the woman says, I am a Doctor.

Jar.

I, and so famous, that you can take off broken limbs and set them on sound again.

Dr.

Well, I will own all this, rather than have my bones broken; and now I remember you fetch'd me once before out of this great wood, in Plato's great year, as my Master call'd it.

Soft.

Pray you, Sir, how long is that since?

Dr.

Why, next Strawberry-time, it will be compleat six and thirty thousand years.

Jar.
[Page 13]

Ho Boy!

Dr.

I, and I remember I poysoned somebody at your request.

Jar.

No, Sir, I do not remember that.

Dr.

But I do, Sir, by the same token you gave me a hun­dred pieces for a bribe tyed up in a laced Handkerchief.

Jar.

I remember now as well as can be.

Soft.

But I do not remember I hired him to poyson any bo­dy, nor do I remember I'm six and thirty thousand years old: A pox of your Plato's great year, and his little year too.

Jar.

Pray, Sir, remember, your Mistress will ne'er be cured else.

Soft.

Nay, rather than so, I will remember any thing.

Jar.

Look you there, Sir, you see we both remember, there­fore I pray you go with us to cure a distressed Lady.

Dr.

My business in Physick is killing, not curing, I assure you; for as there is your Man-taylor and your Woman-taylor, so there is your killing Doctor, and your curing Doctor, distinct Professions, I assure you.

Jar.

But, Sir, you must own curing, as well as killing, or else we shall court you with a cudgel again.

Soft.

As we did in Plato's great year, you know Jarvis.

Dr.

I do not rememher that ye beat me then.

Soft.

But I remember it, by the same token you gave me my laced Handkerchief back, when you had put the Gold in your pocket.

Dr.

Now I do remember, hold, hold,

[Offers to beat him.

I do own curing; and since there is no remedy, I confess I am a Doctor: but if all menshould take their degrees, as I have done, we should have but small commencements. I once served a Mountebank, and have some of his canting terms, and for ought I know may prove as good a Physician, as if I'd served an Apprenticeship at Padua. Well, Gentlemen, what disease is it I must cure?

Soft.

You must help a Lady that is dumb, and has lost her speech.

Dr.

How, dumb, and lost her speech too! that's a great work; if she had only lost her speech, I could have cured her, or if she [Page 14] had been but dumb; but to be dumb and speechless too, her case is very desperate, would I'd my wife and all the neigh­bourhood at that lock.

Jar.

But we must intreat your utmost skill, for 'tis a sad thing for a woman to be speechless.

Dr.

I, and dumb: but 'tis a sadder thing for a man to be a fool, for certainly he is a changeling that has a dumb wife, and would have her speak again: Are you in love with a wo­mans sting?

Jar.

Why do you call it a sting, Sir?

Dr.

Because, Sir, a woman has no tongue, they'r tongues in mens mouths, but they'r call'd stings in women.

Jar.

But, Sir, this Lady never spoke an angry word, not so much as to a servant.

Dr.

But she will do, if I cure her, for I've an unluckie hand that way; yet for her sweet dispositions sake I'll preserve her; and now I'll answer to the name of Doctor, with as much con­fidence, as a Quack drest up in all his ignorance.

Soft.

Will ignorance make men confident? Slid, would I'd a little ignorance too.

[Act ready.
Jar.

I, if you had but a little 'twere very well, Sir.

Dr.

Let me see how to behave my self like a Doctor now; I will first take your Mistress by the pulse, and look up grave­ly at the sieling all the while; then ask what she took last, and when she'd a stool, and there's half a Doctors work; then I'll prescribe something that will neither do hurt nor good, so leave her to luck, and there's the other half of the Doctor; then (to amuze the people) I'll give her the powder of a dry­ed Dock-leaf, with Apothecaries hard name to it; and if that will not mend her, I'll give her a drench, for women have stur­die stomachs, and why not as strong of constitution as Horses?

Soft.

Heart of a horse, thou'rt a delicate mad Doctor; Sirrah, wilt thou give her a drench?

Dr.

Why, a drench is a potion, and a potion is a drench; only the distinction is, when you put it into a horn, then 'tis a drench for a horse; and when you put it into a vial-glass, 'tis a potion for a man; nay, I'll discover all their cheats.

[Page 15] Come my Squire Softhead, never fear thy wench,
She shall be cur'd by Learned Doctor Drench.
[Ring.
Finis Act. I.

ACT II. SCENE I.

Enter Gernette, Softhead, Jarvis and Nurse.
Ger.

ANd is he so famous a Physician, say you?

Jar.

Why, Sir, Aesculapius, as you call him, is a meer Mountebank to him.

Soft.

I, and that fellow Galen Hippocrates, as you call him, not worthy to be his Apothecary: he can conjure, for he'll cure a wooden leg, make it flesh and bloud, and set you up sound again.

Jar.

Nay, if he like your pulse, he'll give you a lease of your life for term of years.

Nur.

I would he would give me three lives in mine, and be­gin them all at fifteen again.

Jar.

Is not one life sufficient to make a man a Cuckold? but you'd have three to do it in.

Nur.

Yes, because I'd make thee a Monster, that my child and I may live upon shewing thee.

Ger.

You talk of wonders, I long to see him.

Jar.

He is i'th' next room, Sir, but 'tis the maddest Do­ctor, and of the strangest humours.

Soft.

So he is, for by the heart of a horse we were fain to bribe him with a cudgel, before he would own being a Doctor.

Nur.
[Page 16]

A down right Sirreverence of a Doctor, I say get her a worthy husband, and say I told you so.

Ger.

You'r a foolish woman, and talk of that you under­stand not.

Nur.

Understand not? sure I should know what a woman wants as well as you: I say again, a pox of your Doctor, get her a good husband, a plaister of true love clapt to her will do her more good than Sena or Rhubarb.

Ger.

Did I not provide her a good husband? was she not to marry the Squire here?

Nur.

A precious morsel of him: how came you to be a Squire with a pox, with your softhead, and your little head, and your no head at all?

Soft.

Bear witness, she says I have no head at all.

Nur.

Thou mayst take it, and throw it to the dogs for any brains there's in't.

Soft.

I will not call you whore, Gentlewoman; but by the heart of a horse your husband's a cuckold; and he is not only an English cuckold, but also an Italian cuckold; that is to say, he is a cuckold both before and behind.

Nur.

Sirrah, cudgel him, or lie in the truckle-bed all thy life.

Jar.

I'l rather cudgel thee, for I believe every word he says.

Nur.

For shame proffer her a husband of her own chusing, let her have Leander.

Ger.

She shall never be his Hero.

Nur.

If she perish in the Hellespont, at your peril.

Ger.

Hellespont? how came you by that fine word?

Nur.

Honestly enough.

Jar.

As honestly as you came by your child, I think.

Nur.

I have seen Mr. Hellespont in a Puppet-show, and Hero, and Leander too.

Ger.

Talk no more of Leander, I know him not; but who e'er he be, he is not to be compared with the Squire here for wealth.

Nur.

Is your Squire boobe, loobe, poope, to stand with Lean­der for parts and person?

Ger.
[Page 17]

Do you know his parts?

Nur.

No, but I have heard of him and his parts.

Soft.

Grant me patience, for I have much ado to forbear calling you whore, forsooth.

Nur.

Do if thou dar'st; is wealth to be named the same day with love? I scorn that comparison, though I'm o'th' wrong side o'th' teens i'faith.

Ger.

Hast thou any sense of the fopperies of love left?

Nur.

Dost thou call sweet love foppery? though thou'rt my Master, thou'rt a beast; go, go to bed and die, what dost thou in this world? let the Doctors give him Physick, no bodie else has need on't.

Jar.

You'r very bold with your Master, wife.

Nur.

He has been as bold with me, let that suffice you hus­band: I have so fresh in my memory the sweet effects of love, that I wonder mankind should be such beasts as to forget it.

Ger.

Go give your child suck, for that's your talent, and meddle no more.

Jar.

That's another sign 'tis none of my child, for why should he be so careful to have the child suck, if it were not his own?

Soft.

Look you friend, your wife has abus'd me, and 'tis not civil to call her whore to her own face: but I tell thee to thy face, she is a Whore Rampant, and in Heraldry thou'rt a Cuckold Passant.

Jar.

I, Sir, and my wants make me a Cuckold Couchant, or I'd ne'er indure it.

Soft.

Oh, here comes our delicate humoursome Doctor i'faith.

[Enter Doctor.
Ger.

Squire, go bid them make my Daughter ready to re­ceive the Doctor.

Soft.

I do not care to go, for she has her wild Irish Cham­ber-maid that always calls me Squire pogemihone, and then laughs at me.

Ger.

Pray you go, Sir. You'r very welcome, Sir, I have very much desired to see you.

[ Exit Softhead.
Doct.

Hippocrates says, I pray you be cover'd.

Ger.
[Page 18]

Pray you, in what Chapter of Hippocrates does he bid you be cover'd?

Doct.

In the first chapter of keeping your head warm.

Ger.

A pleasant Gentleman, and I love his humour. But, Sir, concerning my Daughter who is very sick, Sir.

Doct.

I am very glad on't, Sir, and I would you and your whole Family were sick, lame or blind, that I might have the honour to cure you.

Ger.

Why, this is the strangest Doctor: he had need of good parts to bear out his humours.

Doct.

And now, Sir, I pray you what's your Daughters name?

Ger.

Olinda, Sir, at your service.

Doct.

Olinda? a pretty name to be cured.

Ger.

Sir, I'l see if my Daughter be ready to come forth to you.

[Exit Ger.
Doct.

Your servant, Sir: and what woman is that, I pray you?

Jar.

The Nurse of the house, Sir.

Doct.

Bi'rlady, a pretty piece of houshold-stuff, and a fine ornament for a Couch: I do salute you Nurse, and I would I were that happy sucklin, that shall draw down the milk of your favour and affection, Nurse.

Jar.

Her pulse beats not thereabouts, Sir: hands off, for she's my wife, Sir.

Doct.

I cry you mercy, Sir, I congratulate you for having so handsome a wife, and your wife for having so worthy a hus­band: Your breasts, sweet Nurse.

Jar.

Pray you hold, Sir, half this courtesie would serve.

Doct.

Worthy Sir, I cannot declare enough how much I'm your servant. Delicate breasts, Nurse.

His hands upon her breasts still▪
Nur.

At your service.

Jar.

O Devil take you, Sir, let my wives breasts alone.

Doct.

Sweet Sir, I must see her breasts, it is the Doctors du­ty to look to the Nurses milk.

Jar.

You shall not look to her milk, I'll look to your wa­ter for that, Sir.

Doct.
[Page 19]

You will not hinder me from following my Pro­fession; alas, I must not only feel her breasts, but I must know whether she be with child or no.

Jar.

Sir, my wife is not with child.

Doct.

But she must be with child: what sayst thou Nurse?

Nur.

If your worship think it be for my health, Sir.

Doct.

Thou wilt dye in a week else.

Nur.

Do you hear that?

Jar.

A pox of your Mountebanking, Sir, my wife is sound and well, and shall have no Doctor.

Doct.

Sir, I know you'r a man of sence, and I beseech you hear reason. A sweet Nurse!

Nur.

O dear Doctor.

Jar.

A pox of your sence and reason, give me my wife, Sir.

Doct.

But, Sir, I'm from home, and want a woman; I hope you'l be civil to a stranger; if you come my way, I'l be as kind to you, Sir.

Jar.

The Devil take your kindness, give me my wife.

Doct.

Give me a reason for't; for look you, Sir, your wife is either with child, or else she has a tympany. Nurse, shew me your legs, they may be swell'd and dropsical, a sweet woman may be cast away here for want of a little looking to.

Jar.

Let my wives legs alone, or I'l downright thrust you out o'th' Room.

Doct.

Sir, I find you'r cholerick, but I'l give you a purge shall make you so patient, that if you saw me lye with your wife, you should not have so much gaul left, as would make an angry line in your face.

Nur.

Now good husband take Physick.

Doct.

God a mercie Nurse.

Nur.

In troth, Sir, he is always so fretful, and so cholerickly jealous.

Jar.

I'l make you an example.

Doct.

Such another word, and I'l put thee into a Fever, and keep thee in't a year; I tell thee fellow, thy wife is not well, and I will give her a gentle gentile Glister; prethee be sick Nurse.

Nur.
[Page 20]

Yes, Sir, I am sick, and, if you please, you shall give me a gentle gentile, as you call it.

Jar.

You are no more sick than I am huswife.

Nur.

Sure the Doctor knows better than you or I whe­ther I be sick or no; and I find I am sick, and I do so long for a gentle gentile, what d'ye call it.

Jar.

My Master is coming, or I'd give you such a gentle gentile.

Enter old Gernette, his Daughter lead in by Ser­vants, and Sqr. Softhead.
Ger.

Sir, I have brought my Daughter, and I beseech your best care of her, for the world's gone with me if she die.

Doct.

Hold, Sir, people do not die so easily without the help of a Physician.

Ger.

A notable Droll, and puts me in great comfort.

Doct.

Is this she? a very pretty Patient, and one a man may venture on in sickness, or in health: come on, Sir, let me feel your pulse.

Ger.

I am not sick, Sir.

Doct.

But your Daughter is, therefore give me your pulse; why, by your pulse, I find your Daughter is dumb.

Nur.

O dear, how he hits on't!

Jar.

Hits on't? you'd be hit on't too, would you; he may thank his knowing on't before.

Ger.

But, Sir, 'tis strange that you should know my Daugh­ters disease by my pulse.

Doct.

Sympathy does it: I find you have no faith here in the Sympathetical Powder, therefore cannot know our Sym­pathetical way of practice; when any man or woman is sick in Greenland, they always send the next of kin to the Doctor, and by that pulse the disease is known, and the Patient cured.

Soft.

Pray Doctor feel whether I be dumb or no.

Nur.

Let me feel your pulse husband; O I am sick, and the Doctor must physick me, or I die.

Jar.

The Devil has found a new way to make a Cuckold.

Ger.

But what may be the cause think you of her dumbness?

Doct.

Why, Sir, according to the sence of Aristotle.

Ger.
[Page 21]

Aristotle was a Philosopher, Sir.

Doct.

I, and a Physician too, I know what I say. Heart! I had like to have been gravel'd; I say again, according to the sence of Hippocrates.

Ger.

I marry, Sir, he was a Physician indeed.

Doct.

I, and a Philosopher too, therefore no matter which of their opinions I take.

Jar.

By my troth I think so too.

Doct.

And therefore as I said at first, according to the sence of Aristotle, women are dumb because they cannot speak.

Nur.

A sweet Doctor, I always thought so indeed.

Jar.

Have you tasted of his sweetness you quean?

Nur.

Not yet, but I hope I shall do, you rogue.

Ger.

But, Sir, are there many reasons for dumbness in a wo­man?

Doct.

Several, Sir: a woman may be dumb, when she has no mind to speak, and she may speak when no body has a mind to hear her; this is Natural Philosophy now.

Ger.

Why, you speak, as if it were sullenness in their Sex, and not a defect in Nature, nor other accident.

Doct.

I do so: in some Romance perhaps you may have read of a womans being dumb; but sure no man seriously e­ver heard of a woman that could not speak.

Nur.

He is i'th' right i'faith; this is the Doctor of Doctors i'faith.

Jar.

Again the Doctor? I would he were hung about thy neck.

Nur.

By my troth, so would I to determine thy jealousie.

Ger.

But pray you, Sir, why should you think a woman cannot be dumb?

Doct.

Why, Sir, your men that has indeavour'd to find out the perpetual motion, has come near it, I confess, with their Clocks and Pendulas: but Aristotle says, Fix a Dya [...] plate to a womans mouth, and if the perpetual motion be not there, let them never hope to find it; and if it be there, 'tis infallible a woman cannot be dumb.

Boy.

Squire, forsooth, here is a Letter.

[Enter a Foot-boy.
Soft.

A good Boy; Squire, and forsooth does well toge­ther, [Page 22] they'r very suitable; but hold, this Letter is not big e­nough to have business in't, nor little enough to be a challenge. Heart of a horse, a down-right challenge;

[Reads the Letter.

and if he be as stout as Hercules, I'll fright him out on's fighting, or he shall fright me.

Ger.

But touching the cause of my childs disease, Sir.

[Exit Softhead.
Doct.

Why, you must know, her dumbness may proceed from the string-holt.

Ger.

The string-holt? why that's a disease one of my Horses has now in the stable.

Doct.

I grant you, Sir; but we of Padua call a lameness in the tongue the string-holt, from that very string which you call the greedie worm: (A pox on me, I shall betray my self a Farrier:) and this dumbness proceeds from a contracti­on,

[Aside.

or shrinking of that Nerve or String; which shrinking proceeds from Stomachous fumigations which proceed from certain Exhalations, or Influence of the Stars, call'd in Ara­bick; do you understand Arabick?

Ger.

Not a word, not I, Sir.

Doct.

A Gentleman and not speak Arabick? why, where have you been bred?

Ger.

I neither speak Arabick, Latin, nor any language, but my mother tongue.

Doct.

What blessed luck is this for me? how shall I do to explain it to you then? for Optimun purgamentum, cantaridem, venetreclum, do ye conceive me, Sir; Vinum cum drammum, scirramoucha scrupulum; and this is just your Daughters case, Sir.

Nur.

Ho boy, Doctor, he claws it away with Latin i'faith.

Jar.

Still commending the Doctor? you'd have him claw you away with Latin too, would you not, you Jade?

Nur.

I faith, or with Greek either, you knave.

Ger.

Sure he's a Learned man, if one could understand him; pray you, if you please, state her case in English.

Doct.

Why, this is worse than all the rest; why, you must know, Sir, that the vapours passing from the right side where [Page 23] lyes the heart, unto the left where lyes the liver, the lungs, which in Latin we call Armion, having communication with the brain, which in Greek we call Nazmathon, by Interme­dium of the Venacava, which in Hebrew we call Rabshack, and in Arabick Helgoshob.

Nur.

Thou beast, when wilt thou know Rabshack and Hel­goshob? O most divine Doctor!

Jar.

Divine? is it come to Divinity now? why then you hope to be saved by him.

Nur.

I'l venture with him into Rabshack and Helgoshob, what e'er befals me.

Ger.

Ragshag? Sir, I understand these tongues less than Latin.

Doct.

I'm sorry for't, Sir; did you but know the sweet sound of Hebrew and Arabick, you would never speak your mother-tongue again.

Ger.

Sir, I like your discourse well, only where you say, the heart lyes on the right-side, and the liver on the left; which is contrary to all Anatomists I ever heard of.

Doct.

How shall I answer this? pox on him, he makes me sweat. Why, Sir, it is true, that in time of health the heart lyes on the left-side, and in most diseases too: but in dumb­ness, the heart by some strong passion being turned, and whirled to the right-side, till by art it be returned and whirled back to the left, neither man nor woman can possibly speak; and that is the positive cause of all dumbness.

Nur.

O dear Doctor, I cry still.

Jar.

Is it come to dear Doctor now? is he your dear, you whore?

Nur.

He is not yet, but he shall be you cuckold.

Jar.

Cuckold? remember this.

Nur.

I do remember thou art one, and I will remember to continue thee so.

Ger.

Sir, I am well satisfied; now, if you please, let us pro­ceed to the cure of my Daughter.

Doct.

O, there's the point; why, there be several ways to cure, and twice as many ways to kill; for we Learned Physi­cians [Page 24] with too much studie, have likely a worm in our heads, and when that worms wrigles, the mind alters; so that we change our fashions as much in Physick, as the Court and Gen­try do their cloaths: But come, get my Patient to her bed, and when she's warm, give her a lusty dose of Sops and Wine.

Ger.

How, Sops and Wine! sure that will make her drunk, Sir.

Doct.

The better, Sir; for when people are drunk, they are apt to speak their minds: I work by Natural Causes: you see by the vertue of Cakes and Wine how women tattle at a Gossoping; no man ever knew a dumb woman at a Chri­stening or a Gossoping, but she talkt before she went away.

Nur.

The Doctors i'th' right, I'l be sworn, I know it by ex­perience: O brave Doctor.

Jar.

Brave Doctor, i'faith proclaim your love with him.

Nur.

By my troth so I will, with the first opportunity.

Doct.

So lead her to bed, and let Nurse drink with her to countenance her.

Nur.

I will indeed, Mr. Doctor, I will be sure to obey your commands.

Doct.

And when you have drunk smartly, bring me word how it works Nurse.

Jar.

You shall be hang'd first, Doctor.

Doct.

And be sure Nurse come alone still, for you know she may have something to say to me, that is not fit for her hus­band to hear.

Jar.

A pox on you, must my Master pimp for you too.

Ger.

Pray you take your fee, Sir.

Doct.

By no means; no cure, no money with me, Sir: but pray you be careful of my Patient, and be sure to send Nurse still to me.

Jar.

I must be a Cuckold, and cannot avoid it.

Ger.

Sir, I shall send to you, but perhaps not Nurse.

Jar.

So, my Master is jealous of her, as well as I; now 'tis plain he got my child; how many points o'th' Compass am I a Cuckold?

Doct.

I hope I shall make that Rogue mad for beating me.

Nur.
[Page 25]

Your servant Mr. Doctor.

Doct.

Your servant Nurse.

[Exeunt.
Enter Leander, and his Foot-boy.
Lea.

Boy, did Squire Softhead receive my note so cheer­fully?

1 Boy.

Yes, Sir, and withal he told me, he wonder'd that he heard not sooner from you, being you know he was to marry your Mistress.

Lea.

Is he so brave? I shall the better digest my ruin, if I find honour in him, yet he with all his merits can never de­serve her; 'tis strange if he should fight, for they say he is a very ass. O here he comes.

[Enter Softhead and his boy.
Soft.

Sirrah, yonder he is, will you be sure to do as I bid you?

2 Boy.

Yes, I warrant your worship.

Soft.

Just when you see my vest off, that's your time.

2 Boy.

I'll be sure to do it, Sir.

Lea.

Save you, Sir.

Soft.

Dam you, Sir; why? why the pox save me, Sir?

Lea.

Because your poor servant hath an occasion to kill you, and send you to heaven. But why Dam me, Sir?

Soft.

Because your poor servant hath an occasion to kill you, and send you to hell, Sir.

Lea.

This is uncharitable language, from a dying man, as you are, Sir.

Soft.

I scorn dying, I've an estate will keep me alive in spight of a Duel, Sir: I scorn but to be very charitable. Where wilt thou be buried fellow?

Lea.

Let me be kill'd first, I pray you.

Soft.

Nay, by the heart of a horse, doubt not that, Sir; and if you'l have a Tomb-stone over you, write your Inscription, and my Stone-cutter shall do it: Nay, I scorn but to be charitable, Sir.

Lea.

Good rich Squire make your will, for dye you must.

Soft.

What a pox should I kill thee for, that has nothing to leave me for my pains?

Lea.

Now you are not civil, Sir.

Soft.
[Page 26]

I scorn but to be as civil as any man.

Lea.

You shall find me so too, for I'l see you buried in the flaxon your Grandam spun her self, and left your worship for a winding sheet.

Soft.

And I'l be as civil to you, Sir; for I'l see you buried in Flannil: and, Sir, to shew my self civil, if you have a mind not to fight at this weapon, I'l stay till you chuse another; nay, if you have a mind not to fight at all, for civilities sake, I'l have no mind to fight at all neither; I scorn to be behind hand in civility.

Lea.

Now no more words, Sir, but strip and take your for­tune.

Soft.

Pull off Boy: and, Sir, I must have you know, that I long as much to go out of this world honourably, as you to stay in it honourably.

2 Boy.

This is my Q. I take it.

[ Softheads Boy runs away with his Masters sword.
Soft.

And to shew you, I kill you, Sir, meerly upon ho­nour, and not upon malice; I lovingly imbrace you, Sir.

Lea.

Imbrace an Ass: leave your Fencers tricks, and take you to your sword, Sir.

Soft.

Then a pox on you, Sir; and give me my trusty sword boy: how! the rogue is run away, and with my sword too: why sirrah, raskal, come back you treacherous rogue; come this must be your plot, Sir, to hire my boy to run away with my sword, Sir: Why rogue, traytor to my honour, come back.

Lea.

This shall not serve your turn Squire, my boy shall run and overtake him, I'l warrant you.

Soft.

I scorn to be beholding to you, or your boy, Sir; I'l run and overtake him my self, Sir; and I charge you upon honour to stay till I come back, Sir.

[He runs off as fast as he can.
Lea.

This is the newest coward I have known, he has co­zen'd me; for as I live, I thought he would have fought, for he bore it up to the very point of danger: Sirrah, theres a Vest [...] you, and run after him, and cudgel him, till he be all over black and blew.

1 Boy.
[Page 27]

You could not have put me upon a better imploy­ment, Sir.

[Exit Boy.
Enter Doctor.
Doct.

By your favour, Sir, I was looking out at my win­dow, and as I thought saw a Duel towards, so I came.

Lea.

To prevent it?

Doct.

No by my troth, Sir, my business is not to prevent wounds, but to cure 'em; where is the other that fought you? Nounze you have made quick dispatch; have you kill'd him and buried him already?

Lea.

No, he is gone very safe, and no wound about him, but that of his honour.

Doct.

Was it not Squire Softhead, Sir?

Lea.

It was so, Sir; and how he has behaved himself, you shall know anon. But, Sir, I guess you are the Doctor that un­dertakes the Dumb Lady.

Doct.

I am so, Sir.

Lea.

You'r happily come, Sir; for I have earnest business with you.

Doct.

Why I? the dulness of your eye shews you have, let see, let see, a very dangerous and high flying pulse.

Lea.

I am not sick, Sir.

Doct.

You are loth to confess; come I see you have a clap, Sir.

Lea.

By my honour, not I, Sir.

Doct.

Do not let it go too far, modesty has spoil'd one half of the Town-Gallants, and too much confidence the o­ther half; so that there's no hopes of any of you.

Lea.

If you please, Sir, I shall acquaint you with my busi­ness; my name, Sir, is Leander, perhaps you may have heard of me.

Doct.

I have heard of a Naval Knight, called Sir Hero Lean­der; are you the man I pray you?

Lea.

You are merry, Sir, but my affair is serious; you have a dumb Lady your Patient, to whom I am a servant and she, Sir, has an equal love for me: now being by her father barr'd of all means of coming together.

Doct.
[Page 28]

You would have me do it, and so pimp for you.

Lea.

Not pimp, Sir; but I would fain oblige you to be­frend us.

Doct.

Befriend us? a modest phrase for pimping; I begin to find that physick is but one part of a Doctors trade, and I shall gain the Character of Chaucers Semstriss; for says he,

She keeps a shop for countenance;
But baudeth for her sustenance.
So I shall physick give for countenance;
But pimping's my chief maintenance.
Lea.

Sir, I know you may bring me to the speech of her: I mean no pimping, Sir.

Doct.

Whatever you mean, the thing is the same, Sir; for how can I help you to the speech of her, but I must bring you together? and if I brng you together, what's that but pimping, Sir?

Lea.

But I mean in the way of honesty, Sir.

Doct.

Honesty? indeed I have heard 'twill make men rich and brave; but I never heard of honesty in the case before: Sir, the profession will not bear it: and would you make a pimp of a Physician? O most horrible indignity!

Lea.

Pray you, Sir, be pacified, and let this shew you that I can be grateful.

Doct.

Is there a fee belonging to that

[Gives him a purse.

part of a Doctor too? I begin now to think that pimping is no such scandalous thing as malicious men report it. Sir, you have given me such strong reasons to think so well on't, that I believe none rail at it, but such as would be glad of the imployment themselves: And, Sir, as you call it, I will help you to the speech of her, or befriend you, or pimp for you.

Lea.

Your servant, Sir; I must now reveal a secret to you; you must know, Sir, the Lady fains this dumbness for love of me, and to avoid marriage with this Squire Softhead.

Doct.

I knew there was some trick in't, 'twere impossible else, either by Nature, Art, or misfortune, a woman should be dumb▪ for take a womans tongue, and pluck it up by th' [Page 29] roots, I'm sure in an hour another would grow i'th' room on't, But come, Sir, you shall shift you, and pass for my Apo­thecary.

Lea.

That I think an excellent way, and nothing better.

Doct.

We cannot miss to cure her now, I shall get credit as I am her Physician, and money as I your bringer together, or your pimping friend.

Thus shall I be your Advocate and Protector,
And venerably call'd both Baud and Doctor.
[Ring.
Finis Act. II.

ACT III. SCENE I.

Enter Doctor, Leander like an Apothecary.
Lea.

THis habit will pass me for an Apothecary, I only want some of their canting phrases.

Doct.

Why, faith you are as well qualified for an Apothecary, as I am for a Physician; you have trusted me with your heart, and now I'l trust you with my simplicity: I am no Doctor, but was forc'd to own being one; why, and how, I'l tell you hereafter; but having served a Mounte­bank, that and my great share in impudence, has made me famous.

Lea.

Is it possible impudence should have such vertuous ef­fects?

Doct.

Yes, yet some men rail at impudence, and speak it vi­tious, when the Jest is, they that rail most at it, make most use on't: 'tis doubtless the greatest blessing in the world, and most men do their business by it.

Lea.
[Page 30]

But if you be so ignorant, sure impudence should not bear you out, especially in this learned Profession.

Doct.

O, Sir, it is the securest cloak for ignorance of all Arts: other Professions are lyable to miscarriages and questi­onable: but the Physician may kill from the Fool to the Se­nator, from the Beggar to the Bloud-Royal, and ne'er be call'd in question; the dead was never so uncivil yet, as to come out o'th' other world to complain of the Physician.

Lea.

'Tis a sign they'r civily us'd where they are: But do you not studie at all?

Doct.

It needs not, for the great studie of Physick is come to nothing now but letting Bloud; and it falls out well for me that am a down-right Farrier.

Lea.

How, is your real Profession a Farrier?

Doct.

Yes faith, and with the same Fleams I let Horses bloud▪ I use my Patients to; and the horses drench is the po­tion I give to men, and I cure more than I kill; so that I am the only Doctor that has found out horse and man to be of one constitution.

Lea.

But how comes letting of bloud so much in fashion?

Doct.

O, Sir, 'tis Alamode Paris; if your corn does but ake against rain, what says the Doctor? Let him bloud: Nay, if you be troubled in Conscience, they'l let you bloud for that too

Lea.

They let not bloud for the Small-pox, I hope.

Doct.

But they do; and 'tis the opinion of Padua, that 'tis as sure a way to kill, as an old woman and Saffron is to cure.

Lea.

How came you by that Velvet Coat?

Enter a Seamans wife, a Country-man with an Vrinal, and an Apprentice with an Vrinal, with other Patients.
Doct.

O here come Patients; mark

[They press to the Doct.

my confidence: good people one at once, let the woman be served first: Now woman what want you?

Wife.

That that no bodie can help me to, the worse luck, Sir; I am a Seamans wife, Sir, that has been married this do­zen years, and I have never a child, and please you, and I would fain have a child, Sir.

Doct.
[Page 31]

And would'st thou have me get it?

Wife.

I would fain have your worship give me something that will, Sir.

Doct.

By my troth I have nothing about me at this time can do it: Why, look thou send thy husband to Sea, that of­ten make the wife fruitful.

Wife.

A lack, Sir, I have tryed all ways both by Sea and Land, and nothing will help me.

Doct.

I do prescribe thee a lusty Wine-porter, and he shall be thy gallant.

Wife.

And it please your worship, I have tryed your gal­lant, and your top-gallant, and your top and top-gallant, and all will do no good, Sir.

Doct.

By my troth, go try the main-yard too; and if that fail thee, thou'rt a barren woman of a certain: but come i'th' evening to me, after a glass of Wine I may have something to help thee.

[Exit woman.
Count.

And it please your worship, I am a poor man.

Doct.

I have never a Medicine for that disease: Prethee be gone fellow.

Count.

My wife, and it please you, lies dangerously sick.

Doct.

If thou be'st poor, trouble thy self no further, she'll dye of a certain: but art thou so poor thou canst not come to the point?

Count.

I would intreat your worship to visit her; and here's an old angel for you.

Doct.

This is but one of the points, there's two and thirty in the Compass, fellow; however I'l come see her: she rules the roast when she has her health, does she not?

Count.

I, but too much to my sorrow, Sir.

Doct.

Thou hast a stable, hast thou not?

Count.

Yes, and it please you.

Doct.

Then take the your wife, and tye her up to the Rack­staves; and be sure you give her no hay, for I mean to bloud her and drench her.

Count.

Why, Sir? that's as I serve my horse when he is sick.

Doct.
[Page 32]

But I know thou'rt a hen-peckt fellow, and such wo­men as do command in chief, I physick them as I do horses, and all little enough too: but first take her and ride her off on her legs.

Count.

That's more than I and your worship to help me can do, Sir: But I hope your worship will come.

[Exit poor man.
Doct.

Yes, yes. What are you, Sir?

Prent.

A Prentice, Sir, that has brought my Mrs. water, Sir.

Doct.

Has your Mrs. ne'er a Maid, but she must send her water by her Prentice? a foolish custom, I cannot break 'em on't; let me see, but are you sure this is your Mrs. water?

Prent.

Yes, and it please your worship.

Doct.

How sure are you? did you see her make it?

Prent.

I did not see her make it, but, and it please you, I heard her make it.

Doct.

Why, I find by thy Mrs. water friend, that thou art almost out of thy time.

Prent.

Yes truly, within three months, and it please you.

Doct.

I knew it; why here is twenty visible things in this water; your Master is out of Town about a purchase, is he not?

Prent.

Yes, and it please your worship.

Doct.

And you are removed out o'th' Garret to lye in the next room to your Mrs. to keep spirits from her, are you not?

Prent.

By my troth, and so I am, and it please your wor­ship.

Doct.

The water shews it plainly; hold, ha, I find your Mrs. is apt to dream much, and is frighted, and walks in her sleep, and comes to your chamber to be awakened, does she not?

Prent.

By my truly, she has been so troubled with these frights since my Masters absence, that I have never had a good nights rest since he went; for she'l come in her sleep, and throw her self upon my bed; and then I lye as still as can be, and then she rises like a mad woman, and throws all the clothes off, and makes such work with me, that I'm [Page 33] ashamed your worship should know it, then tell her on't the next day, and she runs away and laughs at me.

Doct.

I know her disease, commend me to thy Mrs; and tell her, because I'll make a perfect cure on't, I'l come and lye in the next room to her my self, and thou shalt go into the Garet again.

Prent.

And it please your worship, my Mrs. perhaps may not like that so well, Sir.

Doct.

She will like it I know; 'tis variety must recover her, go tell her I'l not fail her.

[Exit Prentice.
Lea.

Here comes Squire Softhead, that ran away with a trick to save his honour.

Doct.

I see your boy has cudgel'd him to some purpose.

Soft.

Save you Doctor, a word in private, can you keep a secret?

Doct.

'Tis the first point of my Profession, secresie.

Soft.

Dispatch that fellow out o'th' way quickly then.

Doct.

He is my Apothecary, and as much to be trusted as I am: But how came your face so?

Soft.

Honourably of my side, you must know I have fought a Duel with a damn'd coward, a raskal call'd Leander.

Lea.

Now must I be abus'd, and dare not take notice on't: But, Sir, is it possible Leander should be such a coward?

Soft.

Do you know him, Sir?

Lea.

Very well, Sir.

Soft.

Is he your frend, Sir? if he be, I am sorry I said so of him, Sir; but if he be not your friend, he is a coward, and I'l justifie it, and a raskal, and I'll maintain it; yet, Sir, if you have the least relation to him, I shall be very ready to eat my words, rather than disoblige you.

Lea.

Sir, he is neither relation nor friend of mine, neither care I a farthing for him, Sir.

Soft.

Then he's the son of a whore, and I'l tell you how he served me: just when we were stript, and ready to go to it, the base raskal hired my boy it seems to run away with my sword.

Doct.

That was base indeed.

Lea.
[Page 34]

I cannot believe so unworthy a thing of him.

Soft.

Rather than offend any man; I'l say I hired my boy my self to run away with my sword, I can be no civiler, Sir.

Lea.

Rather than so, I will believe Leander did it, Sir.

Soft.

Sir, I thank you heartily, and I will justifie all that Mandevil or Coriat writ for your sake, so you believe it your self, Sir.

Doct.

But how was the Duel, if the boy ran away with your sword?

Soft.

Why, I ran after him, got my sword, and came ho­nourably to him again, and I drive him honourably round the field; and all that while his boy got behind me disho­nourably, and cudgel'd me damnably, that I am asham'd it should be known.

Lea.

Nay, Sir, it shall ne'er be known for us, but if the boy cudgel'd you behind, how came you thus black and blew be­fore?

Soft.

Why, he beat my head and shoulders so divelishly, that it came quite through to th' other side, that my face is all over Coventrey blew: therefore good Doctor, report I am your patient and desperately wounded, and there's twenty pound, and I'l have a Red Scarf with a great fringe about my arm, methinks that looks valiantly; and here is a sword has been up to the hilts in bloud; and if you hear Leander be kill'd, not a word who did it on your lives.

Lea.

Sir, to tell you true, we came just now from dressing of Leanders wounds; and to be plain with you, if you did it, your life is in danger; for he cannot live above two dressings more.

Doct.

Therefore, if you would escape hanging, flee your Country.

Soft.

Heart of a Horse, I did neither wound him, nor kill him.

Lea.

No, did you not confess just now you did? besides your sword is all bloudie up to the hilts, which will hang you, if there were no other witness in the world,

Soft.

Heart of a horse, I shall be hang'd with a trick of my own.

Doct.
[Page 35]

I'l get money out of him; Sir, we can do less than send for a Constable and apprehend you.

Soft.

O dear Doctor, thou wilt not be such a raskal, I hope.

Doct.

I'l be reveng'd of you for beating of me into a Do­ctor, when I had a mind to conceal my parts: therefore get me a Constable.

Soft.

I am disgraced, and dishonour'd, if you do, and that's all you can do to take away the reputation of a poor Squire; for I did not kill Leander.

Lea.

Why, how came your sword so bloudie?

Soft.

If you must needs know, 'twas with killing of a sheep, Sir.

Doct.

A sheep? why, are you not asham'd, as you are a Squire to own that?

Soft.

There's no shame in it, Sir; for 'twas a Ram-sheep, Sir, and he assaulted me; and in my own defence, I kill'd him ho­nourably and fairly.

Doct.

This excuse will not serve, for Leander is dying, and we must apprehend you.

Soft.

Since you are such a raskal, I'l give you a hundred pound to conceal all that I have said.

Doct.

Tell us the whole truth of your Duel, and give me two hundred pound, as you did for the last man you kill'd in Ploto's great year.

Soft.

A pox of your Plato, and your two hundred pound: but since there's no remedy, you shall have it, Sir.

Lea.

And withal tell us the truth of your Duel, and we'l swear to be true to you.

Soft.

Why then by the heart of a horse we fought not one stroke, but my boy ran away with my sword, as I contri­ved it, and I seemed to run after him to fetch it again, and so ran quite out o'th' field. And this is the truth by the heart of a horse; then Leanders boy ran after me, and cudgel'd me, as you see, Coventrey wise.

Doct.

Well, Sir, go into my chamber, and send for your mo­ney, and I'l release you, and keep your counsel faithfully.

Soft.
[Page 36]

To give a Physician two hundred pounds, and not so much as one clap cured for it; O dishonour to true Squire­hood for ever more.

[ Exit Soft.
Doct.

Slid Pothecary, here is my wife, I'm

[ Enter Isabel.

resolv'd I will not own the quean; for first she'l obstruct our design, next I owe her a revenge: Hark you, we must have some device to be rid of her.

[Whispers,
Lea.

I understand you very well.

Isa.

Save your worship.

Lea.

Would you speak with any body here woman?

Isa.

Pray tell his Doctorships worship, that here's his wife.

Lea.

Alas poor woman, his worship has ne'er a wife.

Isa.

Who told you so? were you by when his worship was unmarried again? I must and will make bold to speak to him. Good Doctor dog-bolt, how long have you been wor­shipful?

Doct.

Feel her pulse, feel her pulse Pothecary.

Isa.

I'l take you over the face, if you feel any thing about me, you beastly fellow.

Lea.

Prethee be gone, woman; for I assure thee Doctor Drench has ne'er a wife.

Isa.

But there is a horse Doctor Drench a Farrier that has a wife.

Doct.

I, the Farrier Drench may have a wife; but I assure thee Doctor Drench has none, therefore be gone woman.

Isa.

Are you too proud to own your wife, you ungrateful raskal? who made you a Doctor, but my invention and a good cudgel? I'l spoil your trade of physick, sirrah.

Doct.

Now is your time Pothecary to be rid of her.

Lea.

'Tis enough: But Doctor do you hear the strange news that's abroad?

Isa.

O lack, what news is it, I beseech you, good Sir?

Lea.

I do not speak to thee woman.

Doct.

Well, what is it?

Lea.

It seems there is an Edict made, and it goes very hard with poor women, I confess,

Isa.
[Page 37]

Now good Sir, as ever you came of a woman, tell me quickly what it is.

Lea.

I will not tell my tale to the woman.

Doct.

Then tell me, I pray you.

Lea.

Why, Sir, there is a new Edict made, that no woman upon pain of death, under such a degree or quality, in all presume to have a gallant, or any man but her own husband.

Isa.

And all this upon pain of death? Slife, who would not be a rebel at this rate?

Lea.

You say very true; and upon this hard usage, there are twenty thousand women in arms, and have made a formal Remonstrance, wherein they declare for the priviledge of the She-subject, and will live and die for the free-born women of England.

Isa.

Ten thousand blessings upon them; where are they, I beseech you, Sir.

Lea.

They'r drawn up upon Hounslow-heath, and are now marching to besiege Winsor Castle.

Isa.

Though I sell all I have, and undo my children, I'l have a Regiment whatsoever it cost me.

[ Exit Isabel,
Doct.

I saw the Cadge stand open by the Stocks, throw this purse into't, and say I sent it; and when she is in, lock the door, and bid the boys whoot at her, and call her baud, and then I am reveng'd for her beating she procured me.

[Exeunt.
Enter Nurse.
Nur.

I find the Doctor has a mind to gallant me, he has such a winning way with him, he swears 'tis a thousand pities such a raskal as my husband should e'er enjoy me, and such like fine terms, that 'tis hard I swear to withstand him: But yet ones honesty; why, I confess honesty's a fine thing to read of in a Romance: But I do not find the practice of it so followed, as to make it a fashion; therefore if Doctor's love hold, I shall, I shall, I cannot help it husband, I shall.

Enter Doctor.
Doct.

Nurse, how happy am I to meet with thee alone? a rogue, methinks I could e'en run through thee now.

Nur.
[Page 38]

I, so ye all say; but I am sure I could never see it yet.

Doct.

Now good Nurse grant me my suit.

Nur.

Truly Doctor so I would, if it were not for my ho­nesty.

Doct.

Thou fool, there is no such thing as honesty: the word honesty is a meer bugbear that jealous husbands in­vented to keep women in awe with, as raw-head and bloudy bones frights children, that's all i'faith.

Nur.

But is it possible that should be true, Doctor?

Doct.

Nurse, it is so true, that I'l shew thee a reverend book, called St. Aratines, where you shall be convinced, there's no such thing as honesty.

Nur.

Say you so; nay then, dear Doctor, give me physick. Here comes my husband, what woman's that with him?

Enter Jarvis and Isab.
Doct.

'Tis a Patient of mine that has twenty diseases be­sides a Neapoliton pox.

Nur.

What disease is that Doctor?

Doct.

'Tis a new fashion'd disease came fresh with the last Packet.

Nur.

Have we not old fashion'd diseases enough of our own, but we must send for new ones over?

Jar.

What a villain is this Doctor? first not to own his wife, next with a trick to trapan you into the Cadge; then make the boys throw dirt at you, and call you baud: But why do you weep?

Isa.

To think that ever I should live to be call'd baud; if he had call'd me whore, 'twould ne'er have vext me; but to be call'd baud, is to be thought an old woman unworthy of copulation.

Jar.

Troth malicious people may call you baud, but I pro­test I think you far worthy to be call'd whore; therefore pray you wipe your eyes.

Isa.

I thank you for your good opinion howsoever.

Jar.

If it please you, Madam, I'l make my opinion good.

Nur.

Here is a rogue to be jealous of his wife, and yet play the whore-master himself.

Isa.
[Page 39]

Look you, there's Doctor Devil for you that will not own his wife.

Jar.

And my wife with him, take no notice of them, I believe he has made me a Cuckold of all colours, of the red, and the green, the yellow, and the blew bed: A pox on him, faith be reveng'd, and make his caps too little for him.

Isa.

By my gallant so I would, if it were not for my ho­nour.

Jar.

Honour? I'l not come near your honour, that's an ayrie thing, that lies i'th' crown of your head, my request lies lower quite another way.

Isa.

Look, look, how familiar Doctor dog is yonder; O for revenge.

Jar.

A pox on him, I'm not able to indure this, go you in there: Are you in your closet, Sir? if you be,

[ Exit Isa.

come out and see a fine sight quickly, Sir: O look, look this cursed Doctor.

Nur.

We had need be careful of our credits, Doctor; for the world is grown so base, that if they should but see a man and a woman in bed together, they would swear they were naught straight.

Doct.

Fear nothing Nurse.

[Kisses her.
Jar.

Look, look, look, I am no Cuckold to speak on.

Enter Ger.
Ger.

Is it so; what a false quean is this to use me thus?

Jar.

Use you thus, Sir? 'tis use me thus, with your favour; Slid, why are you concern'd? 'tis I am the Cuckold, Sir.

Nur.

Slid Doctor, my Master sees us kissing, I am utterly undone.

Doct.

Feign your self in a sound, and I'l seem to rub you to fetch you to life again: Alak, help, help, who's within there, help. O, are you there, Sir? good Sir, run for a glass of cold water, I have much ado to keep life in her.

Ger.

I, with all my heart, and glad 'tis no worse.

[ Exit Ger.
Jar.

Why the Devil must he fetch water? why could he not have sent me, I find I shall be the staple Cuckold for all the Kingdom.

Nur.
[Page 40]

What a raskal art thou to fetch my Master?

Jar.

O you counterfeit quean, you are not in a sound then.

Nur.

No, you jealous rogue, but I'l counterfeit again as soon as my Master comes, and he shall believe it too.

Doct.

Here he comes, fall into your sound again quick.

Enter Ger.
Ger.

Here, here, alack poor Nurse, she does use to have fits.

Jar.

I, a pox on her, more than e'er her mother had; Sir, give her no water, she counterfeits, she spoke as sensibly since you went as ever she did; deny it Doctor if you can.

Doct.

What an uncharitable villain art thou to forge such a wicked lie? this rogue is made sure.

[Gives her water.
Ger.

Come you wicked knave, and help to lead her to her bed, you'l never leave your jealousie.

[Servants and Jarvis lead her off.
Jar.

Oh, oh, oh, she'l pull my ear off, Sir.

Doct.

That's a sign of a strong fit, Sir, but lay her upon her bed, and she'l recover. Slid, Sir, I was never so surprised in my life; I was consulting with Nurse about your daughters health, and all o'th' sudden she fell into my arms in a sound: But now for your daughter, Sir.

Ger.

Dispatch and bring my Daughter hither with all care.

Doct.

And good Sirs, bid my Apothecary come in.

Ger.

What Apothecary is it, Sir? cannot you cure her with­out an Apothecary?

Doct.

No, Sir; you speak as if you were jealous.

Ger.

Not jealous, Sir, but I love to know who comes in my house.

Doct.

Neither Apothecary nor Doctor shall trouble you; so fare you well, and cure your daughter your self, Sir.

Ger.

Nay sweet Doctor, leave me not in this distress.

Doct.

Be not jealous then.

Ger.

Be not angry then. Hey ho, Doctor, my heart misgives me that my child will be stoln.

Enter Apothecary.
Doct.

I'l warrant you, whilst I am in your house. He smoaks us I doubt.

Ger.
[Page 41]

I thank you, Sir; is this your Apothecary?

Doct.

Yes, Sir.

Ger.

What the reason may be, I know not, but my heart rises at him, though I never saw him before.

Doct.

You make your life miserable with foolish phantasms: Pray, Sir, bid him welcome.

Ger.

Why you'r welcome, Sir; but to tell you truly, I like you not.

Apot.

If you please, I'l be gone, Sir. Do you think he has no hint of our design?

Doct.

No, no: Nay, Sir, if he go, I'l go with him.

Ger.

Nay, I beseech you both stay, for I doubt my child is dying. O here she comes, good Sir, look upon her.

[ Olinda in a Couch, two women.
Doct.

Apothecary, feel her pulse.

Ger.

Is not that your office, Sir?

Doct.

Yet again? why, he is the most learned man in Europe, and to my shame I find, I cannot cure her without him; go, go, feel her pulse.

Apot.

I fear my over joy will discover me.

Doct.

Mean time I'l tell you, Sir; 'tis a great question amongst we learned of Padua, whether men or women be hardest to cure; some are of one opinion, some another; mean time there be potent Arguments on either side.

Ger.

He is very long feeling her pulse methinks.

Doct.

Pray you mind you me, Sir; first we hold, that wo­men being naturally more cold than men, and cold being an e­nemy to life, it follows their cure must needs be more difficult and dangerous.

Ger.

How many pulses has she to feel that he is thus long a­bout it?

Doct.

You do not mark me, Sir; I do not love to be slighted when I'm in argument.

Ger.

I do mark you, Sir.

Doct.

Then I say 'tis generally held at Padua, that women, when they take physick, ought to have their potions much more stronger than men, because physick cannot work so well [Page 42] upon cold and phlegmatick bodies, as upon hot and dry: You do not hear me, Sir.

Ger.

They'r very close together methinks.

Doct.

A sign he minds his business: and this was the opini­on of the great Cham of Tartar's chief Physician, that was fellow-student with me at Padua.

Ger.

A pox of your great Cham, I must know why he dwells thus long upon her pulse; have you conveyed no Letters to her, Sir?

Doct.

What an uncivil question's that? Come Pothecary, let your Daughter die, and you perish; the world shall never make me visit her again.

Ger.

Dear Doctor, do not leave me in this extremity. Mr. Pothecary, will you be my overthrow too?

Apot.

I'l do no man service that affronts me thus.

Ger.

Good Gentlemen bear with an old mans passion: good Mr. Apothecary go to my child again.

Apot.

No, not I, Sir, I shall but convey Letters.

Ger.

Nay then you'r cruel, I beseech your pardons Gen­tlemen.

Doct.

Well Sir, we see it is your weakness, and we pass it over; go to your Daughter whilst we consult a little: we must press to have her to your house to cure her.

Apot.

Good, and if he refuses that, I'l perswade her to counterfeit madness; I have a design in't.

Doct.

And that she may appear the more mad, let her tear all her cloaths off; for a mad woman naked has such antick temptations.

Apot.

I should be loth any man should see her naked but my self, Doctor.

Ger.

Well, Gentlemen, what have you concluded of?

Doct.

Sir, he must feel if he can discover of what side her heart lies: I'l keep him in discourse the mean while.

Ger.

Must he feel her heart, Doctor? still it runs in my mind, this Apothecary will do me a mischief: nay, be not angry.

Doct.

Nay, I forgive you, I see an old man's twice a child, [Page 43] pray you walk into the next room, I must talk in private with you.

Ger.

I should sound, if I should leave my child with the A­pothecary.

Doct.

Let's talk here then, for look you, Sir.

[They walk and seem to talk earnestly.
Olin.

I'l observe all your directions; for if he will not let me go to your house, he shall find me mad enough, doubt not.

Apot.

You see how jealous he is, therefore we have no o­ther hopes of injoyment left but by this means.

Olin.

I'll do my part, fear not.

Ger.

Sure he feels something more than her heart all this while.

Doct.

If there be occasion, we must stick at nothing.

Apot.

Why, Sir, according to your opinion, I have found her heart on her right-side.

Ger.

Most wonderful! pray you what may be the reason, Gentlemen?

Apot.

Love is certainly the cause on't, and for her cure, this is no place of convenience, therefore she must be removed to my house.

Ger.

To thy house thou wicked fellow? I told thee at my first sight of thee, I did not like thee.

Apot.

But there is all things ready that cannot be removed hither, Sir; my Tubs, my Baths, and my Sweating-house.

Ger.

I like it not, it is a plot to steal my child, I doubt so: Nay, be not angry, Gentlemen, I do but doubt so.

Doct.

You would make a man forswear doing you any service.

Ger.

I crave your pardons once more; is there no art left to make her speak?

Doct.

Yes, I could make her speak presently, but I doubt it will be but wildly, Sir, for love has shak'd her brain ex­ceedingly.

Ger.

Let me have the comfort to hear her speak of any fa­shion, good Mr. Doctor.

Apot.
[Page 44]

You shall, Sir; pray you Madam chaw that in your mouth: Sir, you shall see the effects of it straight: before you speak, put out your tongue, and wag it two or three times.

[He imbraces her.
Olin.

Let me alone, I'l do any thing to purchase thee my dear Leander.

Ger.

Why does he imbrace her so? I do not like it, Sir.

Doct.

'Tis something in order to her cure: I think you'r mad, Sir; you'l spoil all, he is but shaking her heart right.

Ger.

I'm sure he shakes mine every time he touches her.

Olin.

A, a, a, a, a.

[She rises up and stares, and wags her tongue.
Ger.

O bless my child.

Doct.

Be comforted, Sir, for now it works.

Olin.

A, a, a, a, a.

Ger.

Is this your working? the Devil work, my child is undone.

Doct.

Nay, now her tongue wags, she'l not be long ere she speak, fear not.

Olin.

Who are all you, Sirs?

Ger.

She speaks, she speaks, make me thankful to you for it, worthy Mr. Doctor and Apothecary.

Olin.

What art thou? whence camest thou? and whither wouldst thou?

Ger.

O me, I fear my child's distracted.

Doct.

I told you, Sir, he sence was a little shaken.

Olin.

Pray you, is not that the Devil in black, Sir?

Doct.

No, I'm but a Doctor yet Madam, I shall not take my degree of Devil this seven years.

Apot.

Yet if you please Madam, he shall commence Devil presently.

Olin.

Then good Doctor Devil, for you shall lose none of your titles here, Sir, help me to tear that beard of that old wrinkled weather-beaten tan'd old face.

Ger.

I am thy father, child.

Olin.

I hope thou art not, I'd rather be a bastard than have thy ill nature in me.

Ger.

I am thy old father, child.

Olin.
[Page 45]

I hate any thing that's old.

Ger.

Wilt thou break thy old fathers heart?

Olin.

Nay, that that's more precious to me than my father, which is my dear looking-glass, I would break that, if it were old; for sure the Devil invented old people on purpose to cross young lovers; they could ne'er have been so cruel else to poor Leander.

Ger.

My child is undone, she weeps for Leander.

Olin.

Yes, and will weep again and again for Leander: Lean­der, Leander, Leander, why you do not love Leander; for which sin, good Doctor Divel take him into your Territories, and let him fall desperately in love with a young She-devil, and let that She-devil have a cross father, that will not let them come together, and then he'l feel the torment his poor child in­dures.

Ger.

Doctor, this has too much sence and satyre in't to be madness.

Doct.

O, Sir, 'tis madness to a high degree, and dangerous madness too.

Olin.

You look like Leander, Sir, you are so young and handsome, sure you are Leander.

Apot.

Yes, Madam, I am so.

Ger.

No, no, no Pothecary, do not say so I charge you what does he mean by holding up his finger so impudently?

[He beckons.
Doct.

He makes signs to let you know he must say as she says to please her; for in Padua we deal with mad folks like those that catch Dottrils; when they stretch out a wing, we must stretch out an arm; if they stretch out a leg, you must do so too: else if we should cross her, she may fall into a raging fit, and tear us all to pieces.

Ger.

O most accursed madness!

Olin.

Why would you absent your self so long Leander? why lay you not your rosie cheek to mine, and throw your arms with sweet imbraces about your lover: I doubt you'r false Leander.

Apot.

Madam, may the earth open as I kneel, and make me [Page 46] an example of falshood, if any unconstant thought be in me.

Ger.

Why villain, Pothecary, talk no more so to her: why the Devil does he kneel? he speaks as feelingly, as if he were concern'd.

Doct.

Sir, there is no other way on earth to cure her but this.

Ger.

The remedy is worse than the disease; come from her Pothecary, I told thee at first I did not like thee, I have a na­tural aversion against thee; confess, for I know thou art to do me a mischief: why were you so concern'd to kneel and make such protestations.

Apot.

By my life, Sir, I did it to please and to satisfie her, for she doubted I was false, and I swore I was not: alas, Sir, we must take these courses to recover her by saying as she says; for physick has the least hand in curing madness, I have cured twenty mad people this way.

Ger.

Well, Sir, you have a little satisfied me, and with rea­son too; but yet there is something within me that hates thee heartily.

Apot.

Well, Sir, when I have cured your daughter, I hope you'l have a better opinion of me.

[Act ready.
Ger.

I may of your Art, but never of you, I doubt; for thy conscience knows thou art to cozen me; nay, do not tell the Doctor so.

[He offers to go to the Doctor.
Doct.

Troth Lady, you are so fine a mad woman, that 'tis a thousand pities you should e'er come to your self again; faith for a frolick take me by th' ears, and lead me round the room.

Olin.

If you will have it so Doctor, but I shall make you re­pent it: I have him, I have him; and now I'l tear him all to pieces.

Ger.

O save the Doctor, save the Doctor.

Apot.

Sweet Lady spare the Doctor, I'm your friend Lean­der, Madam.

Olin.

I will do any thing for Leander; but you must stay and live with me then.

Apot.
[Page 47]

You see, Sir, how very calm the very name Leander has made her: troth, Sir, I doubt you must be forc'd to send for Leander.

Doct.

I doubt we cannot cure her without him.

Ger.

She shall die mad first, and I'll die with her; this is a plot, carry my child to her chamber; get out of my house you Villains.

Enter servants, Nurse.
Doct.

You shall lay your hands under our feet before we come under your unworthy roof again.

[Exeunt Doctor and Apothecary.
Olin.

Let me go with Leander, Leander, Leander.

[Exit Lady, she tears them.
Nur.

You have made a fine hand to make my Mistress thus mad; I'l weary you out of your life for this.

Ger.

You are very bold with your Master, Nurse.

Nur.

There's an English Proverb says, If you lie with your Maid, she'll take a stool and sit down by her Master.

Ger.

Well, well, I say again, she shall never marry but the Squire.

Nur.
She shall never marry your fool Softhead,
She shall first marchandise her Maiden-head.
Finis Act. III.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

Enter Olinda and Mrs. Nibby.
Olin.

NO dear cousin, I was not dumb, nor am I mad, I have trusted you with my love, and in that my life.

Nib.

Dear Cousin, doubt me not; when I am false to you, may I miscarry in my own Amours: but pray you Couz, how came you by this lover Leander? for none o'th' house knows him.

Olin.

Truly Couz I never saw him but at Church.

Nib.

A very good place to make love in.

Olin.

Indeed, I have found it so, the first time I saw him was six Pews from me, the next time he sate within two, and there he warm'd my heart: the next after he sate i'th' same Pew with me; and 'twas so ordered betwixt him and the Pew-keeper, that none sate with us, and there we loved, and there we plighted troth.

Nib.

I find a Pew-keeper is a worthy friend to love, and for sixpence you may sit with whom you please, and court whom you please i'th' Church: It was handsomely contrived of your Lover though, to come with the Doctor as his Apothe­cary; but what made him perswade you to counterfeit madness?

Olin.

He has a design in't but had not time to tell me; my father has turn'd the Doctor off you see, therefore Couz you must go to him.

Nib.

He'l find some stratagem to see you again, fear not; if not, I'l go to him: but come Couz, now lets laugh at the Duel, that the Squires foot-boy told us of his Master.

Olin.
[Page 49]

I, he found if safer killing of a sheep than Leander.

Nib.

No doubt on't: your father's bringing of him in to woo you again; fall to your madness, and let me alone to dispose of the Squire; I'l have him drawn up with an Engine, and there he shall hang i'th' Air in a Cardle till you'r married, or run away: Here they come, let us withdraw a little.

[ Exeunt Olinda, Nib.
Enter Ger. and Softhead.
Ger.

But how came your face thus black and blew, and thus black patch'd? I never saw a Ladies face thus furnished.

Soft.

They may be thus furnish'd when they please; but they shall never come so honourably by their black patches as I have done.

Ger.

Pray you how came you by them?

Soft.

Do you take these for patches? O dull old age! these are badges, badges of honour: look you my sword is glazed with honour too; but you shall ne'er know how, it has sost me two hundred pounds already confessing.

Ger.

I know it already, Sir; but Squire, I fear you did not court my Daughter handsomely; what said you when you wooed her?

Soft.

I wooed her with all the fashionable questions of the Town; I askt her if she could come a seven, and she laught at me; then I askt her if she would come the caster, and I'd cover her: no man could say fairer to his Mistriss I think; then I askt her if she could drink Burgundy, and seal Bonds, pay the price of a Chine of Beef, for a dish of French Trotters; and that's all I said to her.

Ger.

I would thou hadst more wit, or I thy precious Acr [...]s. Who's there?

Ser.

Sir?

Ger.

Bid them bring in my Daughter, if she be awake: I hope she may take you for Leander; for she is now out of her dumbness, and is faln stark mad.

Soft.

How, can she speak? and is she mad? Heart of a horse, I'l be mad with her for a hundred pound: O I do so love to be mad; and will she be drunk too?

Ger.
[Page 50]

Drunk you bruit you? no.

Soft.

Why, how can she be mad then? I cannot be mad till I'm drunk, for my life; but I'l try what I can do.

Ger.

But be sure you humour her, and say every thing as she says.

Soft.

Let me alone, here she comes: Slid how delicately she stares.

Enter Olinda, Nib. Nurse and Servants.
Olin.

What's that with the pye-bauld face? how camest thou so distracted, thou errand Knight?

Soft.

For thy sweet sake, thou divelish damsel.

Olin.

Thou art as mad as I am.

Soft.

I am stark mad, for my mother was born in March: therefore let us be married.

Olin.

I would not be so mad for all the world.

Soft.

And when we are married, we'l out-do the Great Mogul for new fashions; instead of six Flaunders Mares, our Coach shall be drawn with six Centaures.

Olin.

Centaures! in the name of madness what are them?

Soft.

A Centaure is a horse born with a Postilian on's back.

Olin.

And shall all the Foot-men ride behind the Coach?

Soft.

Yes, o'th' backs of one another, like March Frogs in a Ditch; and there they shall spawn young Foot-boys.

Olin.

And at the Boot of your Coach must be running an O­rang-wench, presenting your Lady a sweet Lemmon with a love-Letter in't.

Soft.

Right, and instead of Points and guilded Nails, our Coach shall be trim'd round with Cartridges.

Olin.

And they shall be fill'd with Powder and Shot to de­fend us.

Soft.

No, each Cartridge shall have a little tine Page in it, with his head peeping out like Hictius doctius.

Nib.

Bi'rlady, I think they are both mad.

Soft.

What wonders would I do for my true love.

Nur.

There is a verse of a Song to that purpose, I'l sing it: What wouldst thou do for thy true love, if she for help should call?

Soft.

Why, I would fight with a great Gyant, though he were ne'er so tall.

Olin.
[Page 51]

Thou fight with a Gyant? he must be in sheep-skin then.

Soft.

Heart of a horse, how came she by that?

Enter Conjurer.
Olin.

Go bid my Conjurer come.

Con.

Here, Madam.

Olin.

Let me see Elisium quickly, and tell me truly what they do there.

Con.

Madam, it is so little, and so like what's done in this world, that it is not worth your knowing; but since you command I must obey; let idle Poets speak their fancies of E­lisium, but I that have been there must speak the truth; in short, Madam, all the women do nothing but sing, John come kiss me now; and then the men give 'em a green Gown upon the flowry banks, and there they commit love together.

Olin.

Do they not dance in Elisium?

Con.

Yes Madam, as you shall see; every one keep their stand. Squire, stand you here.

Soft.

Must I see the Devil?

Con.

Yes.

Soft.

Would I were devilish drunk then.

Con.

Why would you be drunk, Squire?

Soft.

Because they say when I'm drunk the Devil would not keep me company.

Con.

You must know my Devil scorns to be commanded with canting mountebank words, he is a Sea-faring kind of Divel, that comes when his boson whistles; stand fast.

Soft.

Save the Squire, Save the Squire.

He whistles, Elisium opens, many womens voices sing, John come kiss me now, after that a dance; they draw up Squire Softhead with a Divel, and he cryes out.
Enter Jarvis, and Isabel, Nurse unseen.
Jar.

Tell my Master all the lies you can invent of him; for I know women are good at sudden invention.

Isa.

Yes, I Could lie sufficiently to do his work; that is, I can lie my part, if you can swear yours.

Jar.

If you do not second your lying with swearing, we shall do no good on't.

Isa.
[Page 52]

Nay, by my troth if I lie, I expect you should swear to it; 'tis your revenge as well as mine, and you shall bear your part.

Jar.

Troth, I am not very good at swearing.

Isa.

Then do you lie, and I'l swear; take your choice, for 'tis all one to me.

Jar.

Nay, we must second one another both with swearing and lying, as occasion serves.

Nur.

That I had but some witnes of this Villany.

Isa.

I'l warrant you, we'l spoil his being a Doctor, i'faith.

Nur.

You shall not, if I can help it.

Isa.

I'l tell your Master first, he is a drunken Farrier, and no Doctor, a villain not to own his wife.

Nur.

How, is this his wife? I dare say 'tis for my sweet sake he does not own her: poor dear Doctor!

Isa.

I'l be reveng'd to the full.

Nur.

So will I till I am full.

Jar.

I'll give you my wives new Gown, and take your re­venge my way.

Nur.

O rogue, a Cuckold to the ninth degree.

Isa.

Sure a new Gown, and a new Gallant are two sweet things, but revenge is sweeter and dearer to me than my Chil­dren; therefore let us first go to your Master.

Jar.

But first, let us consider, and lay our story ready.

[ Exeunt Jar. and Isa.
Nur.

I'l to the Doctor and tell him all this: what a slave is this husband of mine? O rogue that cannot be content to be a Cuckold, but he must be a whore-master too; thou shalt have more than an ordinary head, for that at Amboes shall ap­pear but a Pricket to thee, for thou shalt be a monstrous. Cuckold, if man or beast can make thee one.

[Exit Nurse.
Enter Doctor and Apothecary.
Apot.

I doubt Doctor we shall never win the old mans fa­vour again.

Doct.

Troth, I think you were never in't, for his bloud rose at the very first sight of you.

Apot.

He finds by instinct the mischief I'm to do him.

Doct.
[Page 53]

Well, 'tis now come in my head to gain his opinion again.

Apot.

O my dear Doctor, how!

Doct.

Why thus; you shall write a Love-Letter to your Mistriss, as you are Leander, and then deliver it to th' old man, as you'r my Apothecary, I'l go with you too.

Apot.

What advantage will that be?

Doct.

We'l tell him, that Leander hearing that we gave his Mistriss physick, offer'd us a lusty sum to convey a Letter to her; and finding how heartily he resolves against Leander, we thought fit to shew our selves honest by delivering him the Letter.

Apot.

In troth this may clear the jealousie he had of us, and bring us in again.

Doct.

If this will not, we must find some other trick; what if I continued love to Nurse? she would be very instrumental, if we had so little wit as to trust her.

Apot.

It would argue very little wit indeed; but come let us about the Letter. Slid, here comes Nurse.

Enter Nurse.
Nur.

O, Mr. Doctor, I must tell you, you'r a man of little conscience to make such true love to me, as you have done, and have a wife as you have.

Doct.

Truly Nurse I had thought you had had more honesty than to suffer me to make such love to you, and have a hus­band as you have.

Nur.

But Doctor I came to tell you, that the woman that my Cuckold makes love to, swears she is your wife, and says you'r no Doctor, but a Farrier, and a drunkard, and a beggar, and they'r just now going to my Master to tell him so; nay, they'r resolved to lie and swear all things they can invent a­gainst you.

Doct.

There is no great invention in so much truth: a pox on 'em, what shall we do? all our designs are quite spoil'd.

Apot.

I am undone to all eternity.

Doct.

Nay, nay, 'tis I am undone, for I must turn Farrier again; Nurse I'l come to you presently.

Apot.
[Page 54]

I'm utterly destroy'd, if I get not off o'this.

Doct.

I have it already, run you to Bedlam, and give two of the whippers a piece, and bring them hither, and tell them they own my wife for a mad woman, and carry her to Bedlam, and force her with all violence, and keep her there till further orders.

Apot.

I'l instruct them farther, as they come along.

[Exit Apothecary.
Doct.

Do so, make haste, and flie like Gun-shot. Now Nurse, this was kindly done indeed to tell me this Nurse; but be not troubled, for she is not my wife, but a mad woman broke out of Bedlam; and now I am resolved to marry thee Nurse, for I see thou lovest me truly.

Nur.

I, but Doctor, you know I've a Husband.

Doct.

Hang him, I were a pitiful Doctor to suffer any body to live that I have occasion to have dead.

Nur.

If it could be done with a safe conscience.

Doct.

Why, if it be safely done, it's done with a safe con­science; I see thou'rt a fool and knows nothing.

Nur.

You Learned men know best, I leave all to you.

Doct.

Thou shalt lead the sweetest live Nurse; first I will get my son and heir my self Nurse, and then thou shalt have a brave gallant with a fine white Periwig that cost twenty pound Nurse.

Nur.

O dear Doctor, how sweetly you express your love to me.

Doct.

And then your gallant shall carry you abroad, and bring you home o' nights: so well pleas'd, Nurse!

Nur.

O my most obliging Doctor!

Doct.

And then thou shalt throw that gallant off, Nurse, and have one with a brave brown Periwig, Nurse.

Nur.

Did ever man shew such true love to a woman? let all husbands take example by this dear Doctor.

Doct.

And then thou shalt have one with a brave black Periwig, Nurse, so that thou shalt have Children of all co­lours i'th' Rain-bow: but why dost thou weep, Nurse?

Nur.

I weep for joy to think what a comfortable life I shall lead with you.

Doct.
[Page 55]

And dare you be true to your young Mistriss and Leander, and help to bring them together, Nurse?

Nur.

I deserve to starve for a true lover else.

Doct.

But then you must be true to your Master, and tell him when they'r together; and then you oblige both parties, you know.

Nur.

By my troth, and so I shall; and I'l be sure to follow your directions.

Doct.

I dare swear thou wouldst: but Nurse, I do but jest, I would not wrong the old Gentleman for the whole earth.

Nur.

Nor I for all the world.

Doct.

But Nurse, go tell your Master that the woman is a mad woman of Bedlam; you may swear you have seen her there, for 'tis very true, Nurse.

Nur.

I will do it truly Doctor; but when shall our happy day of marriage be, Doctor?

Doct.

As soon as you can perswade your husband to take physick.

Nur.

Let me alone for that. O dear Doctor, this fine white Periwig does so run in my head.

Doct.

And does not the brown one do so too?

Nur.

Yes, by my troth, and the black one eke also.

[Exit Nur.
Doct.

I dare not trust this Jade for all this; yet for little things, which may be helps to the main, I shall venture to try her in.

Enter Apothecary, and two Officers of Bedlam.
Apot.

Mr. Doctor, I have brought you a couple of Officers for your turn, they both understand, and are ready to serve you for your money.

Doct.

But have you given them instructions?

1 Offi.

O, Sir, we have it throghly.

Doct.

You must be confident, for you'l find a damn'd scould of her.

2 Offi.

O, Sir, we that can tame mad folks, can tame a scould, I warrant you.

1 Offi.

And though the woman be not mad, we can make her mad, if you please.

Doct.
[Page 56]

Prethee how?

2 Offi.

With these Engines: why people are not so mad when they come to Bedlam, as they are when they'r in't, I assure you.

Doct.

How comes that I prethee?

1 Offi.

Do you think that the food of bread and water, to lie naked in foul straw, and to be whipt twice a day, will [...] make any body mad? I'l warrant you faith.

Doct.

But do you give them no physick?

1 Offi.

Something they have, but a whip is the main ingre­dient; for we whip' em out of a phrenzy into stark madness, and then whip'em on till they come round to their wits again.

Doct.

That plainly shews the circulation of the bloud; and this may be cited a consultation.

Apot.

Well, Sir, you see they know their work, therefore a­bout it, and there is more money to incourage you.

1 Offi.

You shall hear of her in Bedlam, I'll warrant you.

[Exeunt Bedlam men.
Apot.

Now let's about our Letter with all speed.

Doct.

Come on, and if all fail, we'l fetch your Mistriss to Bedlam; for she is pretty well entred into madness already.

Apot.

No, then people will say, If she had not been mad, she'd ne'er been in love with me; yet any where out of her fathers house does it.

Doct.

Well, if our other designs fail, faith have at that.

[Exeunt.
Enter Gernette, Nibby and Nurse.
Nib.

Thou wretched old man, first to make thy Daughter mad, and then to keep her in't with thy cruelty, when your own conscience knows a husband would recover her.

Ger.

But now my mind is altered; for I'm resolved, let her perish, she shall never marry whilst I live.

Nib.

At your peril be it, for I'l take my oath before a Judge that a husband would bring her to her wits again.

Ger.

I renounce and disclaim her.

Nib.

A husband I tell you: Second me Nurse.

Ger.

I'm resolved I'l hear of no husband.

Nur.
[Page 57]

I tell you once again a husband.

Nib.

And I tell you moreover and above a husband.

Nur.

And I tell you both under and over, and over and un­der a husband.

Both.

A husband, a husband, a husband.

Ger.

I'l stop my ears, I'l hear no more of her.

Nib.

But in troth Uncle, consider soberly her sad condition, she is young, and her bloud gallops in her veins, and requires the satisfaction of a Gentleman, I prescribe her nothing but what I would take my self.

Nur.

Alack she might take it if she were a dying.

Ger.

Cannot the comforts of a Father recover her.

Nur.

Nor of a mother neither, if her heart be set the o­ther way.

Ger.

Then let her dye mad, for I'l hear of no such thing as husband.

Nib.

With all my heart, I wish she would marry thy Gar­diner.

Nur.

I, that she might taste of his Apricocks: Nay, nay, nay, you shall hear us out, for look you Master, a husband is such a thing.

Nib.

I truly Uncle, a husband is such a thing.

Ger.

What a thing is a husband?

Nib.

Why, a thing a young woman cannot be without.

Nur.

No, nor an old woman neither.

Nib.

A husband is a thing that's good for many things.

Nib.

A husband is good to father his wives children.

Nib.

Pray you let him be good at getting them first.

Nur.

No matter, that's a thing may be done without him; I see you are a young woman and know nothing.

Nib.

Then a husband is a thing that is a good Cloak for a womans knavery.

Nur.

I, if a husband could be brought to do the civil of­fice of an orang-woman, to fetch and carry, he were worth his weight in gold; I have a husband, my Master knows, is the untowardest peevish fellow at it.

Ger.

Away, away, you idle woman.

Nib.
[Page 58]

You mean down right pimping, Nurse, that's a little a­gainst the hair methinks for a husband. Ben. Johnson says, fa­thers and mothers make the best bauds.

Nur.

Bauds! your Johnson's an ill bred foul-mouth'd fellow to call them so; besides he is a fool, for a husband's worth a hundred fathers and mothers for that office; for then the wife's unstain'd, the world cannot taint her, when the husband gives her countenance.

Nib.

But will you consider your daughters madness?

Nur.

I, he has turn'd off a worthy Doctor, and his Apothe­cary that would have cured her, and now he's jealous of 'em, and will not let 'em come near her.

Nib.

'Slife, I'l indite you for murther, I'l not see my Cousin cast away thus: send for this Doctor, I say.

Enter Jar. Isa.
Jar.

Here is a woman, if it please you, has something to say to you concerning the Doctor.

Ger.

I, what is it woman?

Isa.

I would be loth to have your worship abused; this Doctor, if it please you, that comes to your house is a very raskal: swear to it now.

Jar.

I by my feckars-law is he.

Isa.

Swear up roundly and be hang'd; is feckars-law an oath to pass before a Judge? I say this Doctor is a raskal.

Ger.

Why, he may be ne'er the worse Doctor for that.

Isa.

But he is not a Doctor, if it please you.

Ger.

Why, he may be ne'er the worse raskal for that.

Isa.

But as I said, he is no Doctor, but a down right Farrier.

Ger.

A Farrier, bi'rlady a good foundation to raise a Doctor upon; I like him ne'er the worse.

Isa.

Besides he is a beggar, and I am his wife, Sir.

Ger.

If thou be'st his wife, 'tis an even lay but he's a beggar.

Isa.

Besides we have had five children, and now he will not own me, Sir.

Ger.

That confirms him a good Doctor still, I say,

Nur.

This woman is mad, Sir.

Ger.

She talks sensibly enough, and I believe her.

Isa.
[Page 59]

I am not mad, Sir, and I tell you he is but a Farrier. Swear and be hang'd, you leave me sweetly i'th' lurch. I say he can give your daughter a drench, and shooe her before and behind, and that's all he knows of a Doctor.

Enter Bedlam-men.
2 Offi.

By your leave we must make bold with your wor­ship; we have a mad woman broak out of Bedlam, and we un­derstand she is come into your worships house. O are you there you mad quean, must we have all this labour to find you with a pox? I'l scourge you to some purpose i'faith.

[He mistakes.
Ger.

What dost thou mean fellow? this is my servant.

Nur.

You rogue, you villain, you raskal.

1 Offi.

Sir, pray you pardon him, this fellow is a stranger, and come newly to his office, since she stole out of Bedlam; this is the quean, Sir, she knows me well enough; look, look, look, if it please your worship, how the mad whore stares at me, now she sees me.

Isa.

I mad? I in Bedlam, you rogue? 'tis that thing, that Gentlewoman thing that looks like a mad woman.

Nib.

'Slight, I'l away and secure my Cousin.

[ Exit Nib.
Ger.

I hope they do not come for my daughter, Nurse.

1 Offi.

Nay, nay, nay, come you quean, away with her: Why, Sir, we have had this wretch in Bedlam this dozen years; and sometimes she is so well, that we let her go about the house, and then she steals out, and 'tis sometimes a week before we can find her again. Fare you well, Sir; Slid how I'l lash the whore.

[Exeunt Bedlam-men with Isa.
Ger.

This woman being mad, confirms me the Doctor is wrong'd.

Jar.

The woman is his wife, and not mad, Sir; and the fel­low is no Doctor, but a Farrier, Sir.

Nur.

The rogue is jealous of the Doctor, and that makes him say so, as he is of your worship, when I rise a nights to rub your shins.

Jar.

I say again, he is a Farrier and no Doctor.

Ger.

This must be scandal, for I believe he is a learned [Page 60] man. How now? what do you here, Sir? did not I forbid you my house? Are you a Farrier, Sir?

Enter Doctor and Apothecary.
Doct.

Are you a changeling, Sir?

Ger.

Why changeling, fellow?

Doct.

Why Farrier, fool?

Ger.

He is wrong'd sure by his angry confidence.

Doct.

Who told you I was a Farrier, Sir?

Ger.

A woman that said she was your wife, and truely I be­lieved it, till two Officers of Bedlam fetcht her away, and said she was a mad woman.

Doct.

Alack, alack, was it she; why that poor creature has been in Bedlam this many years; and she has call'd me husband so long, that of my conscience the poor wretch believes it to be so indeed.

Nur.

I, but Mr. Doctor, my husband swears you'r a Farrier.

Doct.

Who, that villain? why thou scandalous rogue, how darst thou wrong me, when thou hast discovered such strange things to me of thy Master?

Ger.

I, what has the rogue discover'd, Sir?

Doct.

First, he is damnable jealous of you; next he told me that you got his wives child, and he desir'd us of all loves to give you some cantharides to disable you for getting of chil­dren: ask my Apothecary else.

Apot.

'Tis very true, I assure you.

Jar.

Sir, they wrong me, and they lye.

Nur.

But they do not swear and lie, as thou and the mad woman did: Sir, I'l swear upon a book I over-heard them make the bargain, she was to lie, and he was to swear to it.

Doct.

Pothecary, you over-heard that too, did you not?

Apot.

I did so, Sir, and I'l be deposed upon't: you put me to hard duty Doctor.

Ger.

You villain out of my house.

Jar.

Sir, they do me wrong, I never said so.

Ger.

I know you were always a jealous raskal, and there­fore must believe 'em; so get you out you villain.

Doct.

Sirrah, will you be content to be a Cuckold yet?

Jar.
[Page 61]

I'l be reveng'd, for I'l cut thy throat.

Doct.

I'l be even with thee, for I'l give thee physick.

Ger.

Pay him his wages, and let him be gone.

Jar.

Give me my wife then.

Doct.

No, I mean to physick her, and make her fit for a Gen­tleman.

Jar.

I'l have my wife, if there be law.

Doct.

Thou shalt have her before thy suit is ended; for by that time every body will have done with her.

Nur.

Come, sir, I'l pay you your wages, you see what comes of jealousie; could not you be content to hear, and see, and say nothing?

[Exeunt Jar. and Nurse.
Apot.

But, Sir, our business is to present you with this Letter, and withal to advise you to look strictly to your daughter; for this Leander is contriving several stratagems to steal her, he offer'd us I know not what to deliver her this Letter.

Doct.

But we knowing it would break your heart, we thought our selves bound in conscience to bring you the Let­ter, and withal to advise you to be careful of your child, for to my knowledge she'l be gone else; so having fairly discharged our selves, we take our leaves.

[Offers to go.
Ger.

O do not go, you are my friends, you have proved your selves my faithful friends; I beseech you stay and take care once more of my child.

Apot.

Not for the world, Sir, we came not to that end, Sir, we came to shew our selves honest men, and that being now clear'd, our credits shall come no more in question.

Ger.

I beseech you leave me not.

Doct.

Why, your passion will spoil all our practice; for should it be noys'd abroad, that a Doctor of physick carries letters betwixt party and party, 'twere enough to undo us all.

Ger.

Good Gentlemen, I have received comfort by your fidelity, take it not from me again by your obstinacie; I once more beseech you to take the care of my child upon you.

Apot.

Alack, Sir, do not weep, we'l do any thing to serve you, but our credits are so precious to us.

Ger.
[Page 62]

Good men, I'l never distrust you more, you have shew'd such worth in the discovery of this Letter, that I weep for joy to think I have found such faithful friends.

Doct.

In troth my tender Nature melts too, see, see, my poor Apothecary weeps too.

Ger.

Dost thou cry too, Nurse? alack poor woman.

Nur.

How can I chuse but cry, to see my Master weep?

Doct.

I thought you had cryed to part with your husband, Nurse.

Nur.

Your own conscience knows I do not love him so well: Pray you good Master wipe your eyes.

Ger.

Good Doctor and Apothecary weep no more.

Doct.

We cannot hold to see your grief so great, Sir.

Omnes.

Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah:

[All cry together.
Doct.

Let us cry in four parts, and see how 'twill go.

Apot.

I have heard of singing in four parts, but never of cry­ing in four parts before: come, Sir, take comfort, for once more we will undertake your child.

Doct.

We must first repair home, to provide things fit for her, and then without delay we come: once more we have fastned of him.

[Exeunt Doctor and Apothecary.
Ger.

Good Gentlemen make haste: Come hither, Nurse, this was kindly done to weep, Nurse.

Nur.

I could not chuse but weep to see you weep.

Ger.

In the middle of my sorrows, there is some comfort in thee yet; come kiss me, Nurse, I hope thou hast been true to me, Nurse, and not suffer'd that raskal thy husband to come near thee.

Nur.

Do you think I'd be so false a wretch, as to let my hus­band touch me? I wish the heavy judgement of such a sin may fall on me, if ever he so much as kist me, or ever shall whilst your worship lives; for sure you have been a sweet man in your youth, that is such a comfort to a woman in your old age.

Ger.

But am I such a comfort to thee indeed, Nurse? do not dissemble with me.

Nur.

If I do, I wish I may never enter into the—why [Page 63] am I a woman? but why do you suspect me so?

Ger.

Because I thought the Doctor had kist you, when you were in's arms.

Nur.

That you should think such a wicked thing of me, when you saw I'd a fit of the mother.

Ger.

Weep not Nurse, I am satisfied, come kiss and be friends.

[He kisses Nurse.
Enter Nibby.
Nib.

Look, look of that old sinckanter, here's a fine mouldy gallant, an old grey badger; I must play the rogue with him, though I suffer for it.

Nur.

Slid your Niece sees you kiss me.

Ger.

Alack, I am asham'd for ever then: good Nurse sound as you did when the Doctor rub'd you.

Nur.

Do you think I can counterfeit sounding? besides do you think you are able to rub me as the Doctor did?

Nib.

O wo is me, and wo unto us all, O this Uncle, this wicked Uncle.

Ger.

Alack, what's the matter?

Nib.

O cruel destiny! O fatal fortune!

Ger.

Why, Niece Nibby, what's the matter?

Nib.

That ever I should live to see this day.

Nur.

O my dear Mrs. Nibby, what's the misfortune?

Nib.

O where should I find this cursed Uncle of mine?

Ger.

Here I am Nibby, what's the danger?

Nib.

You are undone and ruin'd.

Ger.

How, undone and ruin'd? do not delay me.

Nib.

O your daughter, your daughter you wicked wretch, I am not able to say more for grief.

All.

Ah, oh, ah, ah.

[All weep.
Ger.

Tell me quickly what's the matter.

Nib.

Why, your daughter's grown desperate mad at your unkindness; ran to the window that stands over the River, and there opening the great casement.

Ger.

O what did she then?

Nib.

Why, lifting up her hands and eyes to that good place, where you will never come Uncle; she loudly cryed, Since [Page 64] my father has abandon'd me, 'tis time for me to quit this life of mine.

Ger.

And so threw her self into the River?

Nib.

No, it seems she did not like that kind of death.

Ger.

Why, what then?

Nib.

Why then she ran like lightning to the Table, where your Pocket-Pistol lay.

Ger.

And so shot her self with that?

Nib.

No, it seems there was no powder i'th' pan, but bitter­ly sighing and weeping, at last she ran and desperately threw her self upon her bed, and then growing paler and paler, by degrees fell into a deadly sound.

Ger.

And so dyed?

Nib.

Stay, stay, you'r too quick for your daughter; but with much rubbing, tumbling and tossing her, I brought her to life again; so leaving her at deaths door, I came to tell you the news.

Ger.

Where are my servants? run, bid 'em run, I'l have a consultation of Doctors; and run for Doctor Drench, for he shall joyn in councel with 'em.

[Exit. manet Nurse.
Nur.

I'l to the Doctor and tell him this. I doubt he will not like a consultation with Physicians.

If he stand this brush, he's made for ever;
Luck if't be thy will just now or never.
Finis Act. IIII.

ACT V. SCENE 1.

Enter Doctor, Leander and Parson Othentick.
Lea.

LOok you Doctor, this Gentleman is my brother; and, though he be young, a Minister in orders; I have told him what we design'd, and he is to go as my Apprentice, and carry our feigned physick.

Doct.

Very good, and can you step out of a Pulpit into an Apothecaries Shop? poyson a friend or two, and steal to your Text again without scruple of conscience?

Othen.

Sir, I shall go as near the wind as a Dutch Skiper, to serve my brother, but I hope there is no poyson in the case.

Lea.

No, but there is a little cheat.

Doct.

Which I hope you may dispence with.

Othen.

Truly I hope I may to serve my brother.

Doct.

Or your Sister.

Othen.

Yes sure, to serve any of my Relations.

Doct.

Or a friend.

Othen.

So it be a dear friend.

Doct.

Or a stranger with a good living to present.

Othen.

That's a good thing still.

Lea.

The Doctor's merry, brother: but pray you let me help you off with your Reverend Weeds, and appear like an Apothecary's Apprentice, or a Disciple of Paracelsus.

[Helps him off.
Othen.

Now Doctor give me leave to be merry with you, I studyed physick, and should have profest it, and an old Do­ctor gave me some rules for a young Doctor to observe.

Doct.

Pray you let's hear them by all means.

Othen.

First, have always a grave busie face, as if you were [Page 66] still in great care for some great persons health, though your me­ditations truly known are only imployed in casting where to eat that day: Secondly, be sure you keep the Church strictly on Sundays; and i'th' middle o'th' Sermon, let your man fetch you out in great haste, as if 'twere to a Patient; then have your small Agent to hire forty Porters a day to leave impertinent notes at your house, and let them knock as if 'twere upon life and death; these things the world takes notice of, and you'r cryed up for a man of great practice, and there's your business done.

Doct.

Believe me these are good instructions.

Othen.

Nay, I have more, be sure you ingratiate your self with the Bauds, pretending to cure the poor Whores for cha­rity, that brings good private work after it. Strike in with Mid-wives too, that you may be in the councel for by-blows, that secures a Patient during life; and with Apothecaries, and Nurse-keepers go snips; but above all acquire great im­pudence, lest you be out of countenance at your own miscar­riages.

Doct.

I am so well stockt with that, that if ever impu­dence come to be worship'd as a Deity, they'l set me upon a pedestal for their god.

Lea.

But to our business Doctor, you know we perswaded the old man that we must say and do all things to humour his seeming mad daughter, and by that only way she is to be recover'd.

Doct.

Right, and the old man believes it too.

Lea.

Therefore when we are there, you shall hold the fa­ther in discourse whilst I whisper her; and as she and I will manage her madness, my Brother shall marry us to the old mans face.

Doct.

By my troth that would be impudently done indeed; yet the old Gentleman has now so much confidence in us, that we may do any thing.

Lea.

Therefore pack up your pretended physick, and let us chearfully about it.

[Page 67] Enter Nurse.
Nur.

Save you Gentlemen, you are much long'd for, my old Master does so talk of the Doctor, and my young mad Mi­stress of the Pothecary, that you must come with all speed; for my Mistress is so stark mad, that my Master has sent for three or four learned Doctors; and you must make haste, and bring all your Learning with you; for you must sit in consul­tation with them.

Doct.

In consultation with Doctors? 'heart all is spoil'd a­gain, and worse than ever 'twas. Tell your Master plainly, Nurse, consultation with Doctors is not my way of practice; a company of wrangling fellows, they can never agree; be­sides, he under-values me to think I am not able to cure her without help: but Nurse, go into my chamber, and turn o­ver St. Aratines book, till I talk with my Pothecary.

Nur.

With all my heart, dear Doctor.

[Exit Nurse.
Lea.

This is the unfortunatest cross that e'er befel me.

Doct.

The Divel hath conspired against you: so farewel for an unluckie wretch, I'l put on my Apron, and profess Far­rier again; and then let the Doctors and the Divel come, I defie them.

Lea.

Nay, nay, stay Doctor and let us consider.

[Offers to go.
Doct.

Consider? do you think I can support an Argument with able Physicians?

Othen.

Come, be not dismaid, for we will go, if there were a whole College of Physicians; I am a Scholar, and a pro­ficient in physick, and those questions that you cannot answer, put them upon me, and doubt not but we will baffle them all; therefore we must be wary, and not talk too much of Pa­dua, for ten to one but some of 'em has been there, and they are strict Galenists, therefore we must be Chymists: Now you must not call my brother your Apothecary, nor me his Apprentice, that will not sound like an out-landish Physici­an, therefore call him Hurnatio your Operator, and me Stir­quilutio his man.

Doct.

Well boys, you have so incouraged me, that I have just now a trick come into my head to baffle them all my self.

Lea.
[Page 68]

O brave Doctor! what is't? what is't?

Doct.

You shall know, but Nurse must be in the plot.

Lea.

By no means i'th' earth, she'l betray us all.

Doct.

Fear nothing, for I've promised to poyson her hus­band, and marry her, and allow her half a dozen Gallants; and if that will not make her true, I have no art to gain a wo­man.

Lea.

That may go a great way; but

Doct.

But me no buts; Nurse, Nurse.

Enter Nurse.
Nur.

Here my dear Doctor.

Doct.

Nurse, tell your Master that I am resolved to consuit with the Doctors; but 'tis for thy sweet sake I'l swear, Nurse: therefore my dear Nurse, if thou lovest mirth, and will be true to me, we'l put such a trick upon these learned Physici­ans, that we'l laugh seven years after it.

Nur.

Here's my hand and heart, dear Doctor, I'l be true to you.

Doct.

I believe thee; be sure Nurse, that you be in the room; and when I bid you fetch your Mistresses water, be sure you go out and bring me your own; and then mark what work I'l make with your learned Doctors.

Nur.

Why, this will please me above all things, most hugely, most strangely.

Lea.

I, but if Nurse should cozen you, and neither bring her Mistresses water nor her own, she would serve you finely.

Nur.

I scorn to be so base, Sir, and if you think so, Sir, you may be by when 'tis made, Sir.

Doct

Nay, be not angry Nurse, for my Apothecary, my O­perator I should say, is to give your husband physick when he is to die, and he knows I'm to marry you, I've told him all; nay, he is as true as steel.

Nur.

Is he so, Sir? I crave your pardon for my hasty speech: [Page 69] the Doctor reports you'r as true as steel, Sir; and I assure you I honour any Gentleman that has either truth or steel in him▪ I shall inform my Master of your coming; and I assure you, Sir, you shall command my water without fraud or guile.

[Exit Nurse.
Lea.

Let us now consider how to answer these learned Do­ctors▪

Othen.

That cannot be, for we know not what they will fall upon.

Doct.

I find I shall betray my self to be a damn'd Farrier; but however I'l brazen it out.

Othen.

Doctor, you must be sure you consent not to con­sult in private, which they will desire, because they never a­gree; besides, urge that the Father, Nurse, and we may be admitted, it will be a good excuse for your worship not to speak Latin.

Doct.

But by the way, you must furnish me with a snip or two of Latin to save my credit.

Othen.

That's easily done, but you must be sure to imbroil the Doctors first with some strange questions, to prevent their falling upon you.

Doct.

Let me alone, I'l do it,

And spite of all their Scruples, Drams and Ounces,
I will confound these learned Doctor Dounces.
[Exeunt.
Enter old Gernette with three learned Doctors.
Ger.

Gentlemen, I have made bold to send for you again, and though you could not help my child when she was dumb, I hope you may now she is mad.

1 Doct.

How, is she mad? and does she speak?

Ger.

Yes, Sir, a famous and a learned man, of great skill, and wonderful knowledge, gave her something, and in a short time she spake, and fell into raving fits of madness, and has ever since continued so; and this he told me would be the effect of what he then did.

2 Doct.

This is strange.

3 Doct.
[Page 70]

Most wonderful! what was it he gave her, Sir?

Ger.

Nay, that I know not, but I assure you, he said he could make her speak, and told me her disease would turn to madness, and accordingly it has proved so; nevertheless, Gentlemen, I desire you to joyn with this Learned man, and consider how to perfect her cure.

1 Doct.

Why, Sir, you tell us wonders of him; where did he study?

Ger.

I know not, but he seems to be a great Traveller, for he talkt of Tartar Cham, and of Padua, and Greenland.

2 Doct.

Tartar Cham and Green-land? this must be a Moun­tebank and a cheat.

Ger.

Upon my credit you will not find him so, for he has seen all Universities, he is but newly come over, and his name is Doctor Drench.

1 Doct.

Drench? why that's a fitter name for a Farrier than a Physician.

Ger.

Let his name be as strange as it will, he has also strange humours too, for he'l find out mens ignorance presently.

3 Doct.

I think we were best be gone, lest he finds out ours.

1 Doct.

Why I, for if he be a Chymist, his opinion and ours must needs differ, and consequently not agree in con­sultation.

2 Doct.

I am, Sir, of your opinion, for I think it infradignitatem to hold consultation with Mountebanks.

3 Doct.

We know not yet, Sir, what the man is.

1 Doct.

If he be a Chymist, Sir, he is eo nomine, a declared enemy to the Galenical way, to all truth and learning, and a denyer of principles; and therefore not to be consulted with.

2 Doct.

Right, Sir, contra principia negantem non est dispu­tandum; he that replys but with submission to sic dixit Gale­nus, is not to be lookt on as a Physician.

3 Doct.

Pardon me Gentlemen, I have known some Chy­mical Physicians learned and rational men; and although not strict adherers to the Galenical Method, proceed with great [Page 71] reason, and good success, which, I take it, answers all we can say or do.

2 Doct.

I profess I think it as bad as murder to cure out of the methodical way. Oh what satisfaction 'tis to have a pati­ent dye according to all the Rules of Art.

Ger.

But sure it should satisfie your conscience better to have them live by Rules.

2 Doct.

Come life, come death, to follow Rules is your sa­tisfaction, and Conscience is no ingredient within the Rules of Physick, Sir.

Enter Servant.
Ser.

Sir, the Doctor is come.

Ger.

'Tis well, 'tis well: Gentlemen, to end this dispute here is a double fee for each, and pray you consult with him his way, and be civil in't for my sake.

1 Doct.

Sir, you and yours here hath prevailed over us.

2 Doct.

I profess to serve so worthy and magnificent a per­son, I would consult with a Farrier.

3 Doct.

A Farrier? nay, for a double fee, we would con­sult with a Gun-smith.

Ger.

Here he is, pray you salute him.

3 Doct.

We know how to be civil, Sir.

Enter Doctor Hurnatio and Stirquilutio, Nurse.
Ger.

Save you, Sir.

Doct.

I thank you.

3 Doct.

Save you, Sir.

Doct.

One save you, Sir, is sufficient for all, we Learned men should hate complement, Verba panca sapiens sapit: was that true Latin, Parson?

Stir.

Brave! fear nothing: at them with some question.

Doct.

I shall fall into the Farrier. Well, I find, Gentlemen, you are professed Doctors of Physick, and are met to consult the health of a distracted Ladie; therefore to the point, and avoid your canting words, that would stick in a wise mans throat and choak him.

2 Doct.

But, Sir, 'tis necessary we deliver our selves in pro­per and learned phrases, when we discourse either of Physick [Page 72] or Distempers, In Arte artificialiter loquendum; and withal, Sir, 'tis fit that we of the consultation should withdraw.

Doct.

No withdrawing, Sir, 'tis not my way, I love per­sons concern'd should hear and see what's done, that they may judge who are doers, and who are talkers; and if you affect the vain-glory of learned phrases, my Operator Hurnatio, and his man Stirquilutio shall dispute you; for with great pains I have inabled them to argue in all tongues, because they know I hate the trouble on't my self.

Stir.

Start a question quickly.

Doct.

I shall only trouble you with one question or two my self: First, I ask you whether you know the practice of before behind, behind before?

2 Doct.

Before behind, behind before? why, that is something belongs to a horse, a Farrier or a Blacksmith must answer that question.

Doct.

I know where you'd be presently, in some sort 'tis true that you say; yet in Italy both woman and boys have their before behind, behind before, as well as your horses have here.

Stir.

Bravely come off Doctor.

Doct.

I know not well your way of practice, but the cost you put the people to in that common disease, call'd the mourning of the Chine, I do abominate you for.

3 Doct.

Mourning of the Chine? with your favour, Sir, that is the disease of a Horse, and the phrase of a Farrier.

Doct.

And, Sir, I say again, I call it the mourning of the Chine, for the word Pox is a phrase of ill manners; and therefore I think it proper to call it the Pox in a Horse, and civil to call it the mourning of the Chine in a man.

Stir.

You'l have no need of Latin, Doctor.

Doct.

Look you to that Parson: and I must tell you I shall spoil the benefit you get by that disease; for I'l advise every man to plant a Guaicum-Tree in his Orchard, and a Leaf of that at any time will cure infallibly, and that's one of the se­crets I will reveal to the world, to spoil the practice of Moun­tebanks, clap Doctors and bill men.

2 Doct.
[Page 73]

But will that disease be cured with the Leaf of a Guaicum-tree?

Doct.

I, Sir, as I can order it.

1 Doct.

Pray you, Sir, how will you order it?

Doct.

Why first, Sir, I will make you a mash.

3 Doct.

How, Sir, that's a Farriers phrase again, what mean you by a mash, Sir?

Doct.

Tell 'em, tell 'em Stirquilutio, and let not me be trou­bled to interpret.

Stir.

Why, Sir, the Doctor is so much read in the Arabian Physicians, that he often uses their terms: Masha in the Ara­bick is what quinta essentia is in the Latin.

Doct.

Well helpt Parson: you wonder at my phrases, and I at your want of Arabick. Now, Sir, when any man is troubled with the staggers, we do not cut him and slash him in the fore­head as you do your Horses.

2 Doct.

Staggers in a man? with your favour, Sir, you have talkt all this while liker a Farrier than a Physician; and I be­gin to think you are one, Sir.

Doct.

How shall I get off now?

Stir.

Yes, Sir, he is a Farrier, and an able Farrier too; for if you be not good Farriers, and good Surgeons too, you de­serve not the name of Doctors.

Hur.

And pray you come to the point concerning our mad patient.

Doct.

I, there's the best tryal of our judgements, therefore Nurse, run and fetch your young Mistresses water presently.

Ger.

I, that the Gentlemen may the better judge what to apply, and I beseech you Gentlemen agree, that I and my child may find comfort from you.

3 Doct.

Sir, you shall be sure of all the aid our Art can shew.

Doct.

And likewise our endeavours, Sir.

2 Doct.

But, Sir, amongst all signs of sickness or health, whereby the skilful Physician is led into the knowledge of the state of the body; two above the rest are most certain, which are the Pulse and Urin.

3 Doct.
[Page 74]

I, whereof the Pulse shews the state of the Heart and Arteries, and Urin the state of the Liver and Veins.

2 Doct.

Therefore the question is, whether of these two severally consider'd, does give the most certain signification.

Doct.

Urin, Urin, Urin, which makes me send for her water; still I say, Stirquilutio give 'em reasons, and let not me be troubl'd.

Stir.

Then I say, Montanus de excrementis says.

Doct.

I say, give them reasons in their own mother tongue.

Stir.

Then I say, the Urin above the Pulse, gives the most manifest, certain, and general signification of all diseases, be­cause with the bloud it is conveyed into all parts of the body; and from thence returns back again in the Veins, to the Liver and Vessels of Urin, and so brings is some note of the state and disposition of all those parts from whence it comes.

3 Doct.

'Tis wonderful that an under-servant to a Doctor should have this learning.

2 Doct.

I doubt whether the Master understand so much.

Doct.

Say you so, Sir, I'l be even with you: Parson, I'l tell that Doctor he is not well, and whilst I feel his Pulse, convey you this Cow-itch down his neck. Come hither, Sir, I pray you.

2 Doct.

Your pleasure, Sir.

Doct.

You are not well, Sir.

2 Doct.

As ever I was in my life, Sir.

Doct.

Let me feel your Pulse: you accuse me of Farriers phrases, I've another Farrier phrase for you; you are not well, you are founder'd in your body, and it will fall upon your shoulders: first, it will begin with a kind of itching, then into Inflammations and Catarrhs; therefore look to't, be rowel'd be times.

2 Doct.

I slight your opinion, Sir.

Doct.

Well, mark the end on't, Sir.

Enter Nurse with water and Nibby.
Nur.

Gentlemen, my Mistress presents her service to you, and desires you to be civil to her water, and use it with as much modesty as you may; for I assure you her Virgin­water [Page 75] was never exposed to publick view before.

3 Doct.

Pray give it the stranger.

Doct.

By no means, Gentlemen, I must have your opini­ons first. Nurse, art thou true to me?

[The Doctors takes the water.
Nur.

By my little life it's my own water, Doctor.

Doct.

By my great life I'l marry thee to morrow then: but Nurse, when I wink at you, you must own the water to be yours.

Nur.

I'l do it, dear Doctor.

2 Doct.

Here is dangerous water, it does not shew the three Regents, neither is here colour, substance, perspicuity, dark­ness, contents, or smell.

3 Doct.

Therefore the Urin being obstructed, must needs flye back upon the parts, as to the stomach in vomitings, to the belly in Dropsies.

2 Doct.

Or to the head in Frensies, here we find plain mad­ness. 'Slife I itch most terribly, this fellow sure can conjure.

Hur.

The Cow-itch works, he is at it already.

Doct.

Come on, let me see the water; hum, ha, here is no madness, nor the least sign on't: Come hither, Sir; is your daughter married?

Ger.

No, Sir; why do you ask?

Doct.

Then I say she is a baggage, she had a chid lately, and counterfeits madness to keep the knowledge on't from you.

Ger.

Gentlemen, I beseech you believe not this scandalous Doctor: Sir, I'l have you punisht for this defamation: my daughter had a child you wretch?

Doct.

Come you'r a weak old man. I say again, that she that made this water has had a child lately, therefore let search be made to find it out.

2 Doct.

You will do well to examine it, for 'tis possible it may not be her water; for Doctors have had such tricks put on 'em ere now: this itching makes me mad.

Doct.

But they can put no such tricks upon me, for my judge­ment cannot fail me; therefore I say look to't, for there's a child in the case.

Ger.
[Page 76]

Call all my servants; where's my daughters women? here must be treachery, and Nurse you must need know it.

Nur.

Sir, I do know it indeed, and I crave your pardon.

Ger.

What has my daughter had a child then?

Nur.

No, Sir, but you know I have had one.

Ger.

But the Doctor says, she that made the water has had a child.

Nur.

The Doctor says very true, for 'tis my water, Sir.

Doct.

I was sure I could not be deceived.

Ger.

Are you sure you speak truth, Nurse?

Nur.

By my little life do I, Mrs. Nibby can witness.

Nib.

Nurse speaks very true, Sir.

Ger.

Why did you so bold a thing as this, Nurse?

Nur.

If you'l have the truth, I did it to find out which would prove the ablest Doctor, and the stranger it seems is the Doctor of Doctors i'faith.

2 Doct.

I believe he is, for ever since he felt my pulse, my back has play'd the Divel.

Ger.

Worthy, Sir, I once more heartily crave your pardon, and must acknowledge you an able and faithful Gentleman: and Doctors I beseech your leaves to make use of this wor­thy stranger, as to the cure of my child.

2 Doct.

He must cure me too, for the vengeance has got into my back parts.

3 Doct.

Sir, we consent, and think you have made a worthy choice. so we take our leaves, Sir.

Doct.

Nay, Gentlemen, I hope you'l stay and see our way of practice; alas we cure madness with as much ease as, you do feavers, and meerly with humoring them.

2 Doct.

I believe every word he says.

Hur.

'Tis well you'r convinced. O brave Cow-itch! pray, Sir, let your child be brought forth that we may dispatch.

Ger.

Go Nurse prepare her quickly.

Nur.

She is ready, Sir,

[Exeunt Nurse and Nibby,
Doct.

Stirquilutio, go get me a Parsons Cassock.

Ger.

Why so, Sir? why so?

Doct.
[Page 77]

Because, Sir, you saw in her madness she phansied my Apothecary, my Operator to be Leander, and was much in love with him.

Ger.

She was so to my grief, but what then, Sir?

Doct.

Why then, Sir, if she take him for Leander again, you shall see how finely I'l fool her into her wits again.

Ger.

Here she comes.

Enter Olinda, Nibby, Nurse and Servants.
Olin.

What is all the world got together? then I hope I shall find Leander amongst them.

Ger.

Again Leander? a pox on him, who knows him, or e­ver saw him?

Nib.

None of your houshold, we have only heard well of him, and I believe she never saw him but at Church.

Ger.

Like enough, that's one o'th' ends people go thither for: I'l take warning how I ever send my child to Church again.

Olin.

Are you Leander, Sir?

Doct.

Say I, say I, Doctor.

2 Doct.

I am Leander, Madam, at your service, if my back would give me leave.

Olin.

Thou Leander, Beast? why thou shruggest as if thou wert lousie and wanted a clean shirt: O Doctor Divel have I catcht you, where's my Leander? find him, or I'l tear thee in­to Air.

Doct.

Here, here is your Leander, Madam.

[presents the Parson.
Olin.

O you Divel, would you put a false Leander upon me? find me out the right, or I'l throw thee head-long to that dis­mal place prepared for Doctors.

Doct.

Here, here, Madam, is your right Leander.

Olin.

I, this is he indeed, now I thank you Doctor: nay, Sir. I'l take a course with you; why Leander, would you tor­ment me with your absence thus?

Hur.

It was not my fault, heaven knows, it was your cruel father kepe me from you.

Ger.

Why raskal Apothecary? why say you so, you Vil­lain?

Doct.
[Page 78]

'Tis you are mad: Gentlemen Doctors, you saw how fine and calm she began to be upon humoring her: 'tis you that keeps her mad, I'l justifie it.

Ger.

Nay, I have done, I have done; but here is something here that will not be removed.

Olin.

Nay, Sir, I'l fetter you from running; Doctor, get me a Parson; does none of these grave men belong to th' Clergy?

2 Doct.

No, Madam.

Olin.

Run, run and fetch me one, they'r never i'th' way when they should do good.

Doct.

Stirquilutio, put on the Parsons Coat quickly: Ma­dam have patience, the Parson will be here presently.

Ger.

Why so? why so Doctor? why so?

Doct.

To bring your child to her self again, ask these Do­ctors else.

2 Doct.

Nay, no doubt they are right, Sir, if you obstruct them not; I must have his opinion for my disease too.

Doct.

Look you, here is the Parson, Madam.

Olin.

O welcome, Sir; nay, not a word out of your Book, but turn to your text of Matrimony and marry us pre­sently; and pray you let not that old man know we are mar­ried.

Doct.

No, no, by no means; you must not know old man your daughters to be married.

Ger.

Nay, nay, nay Doctor, Doctor, no jesting with mar­riage.

Doct.

Why are you jealous of my Operator? Alas poor wretch! why, Gentlemen, the man has a wife and four chil­dren.

Ger.

Has he, and art thou sure of that, Doctor?

Doct.

Why, Sir, before these Gentlemen, if I speak false, degrade me of the dignity of a Doctor.

Ger.

I believe you, and am satified, and now I am as light and airy as a boy.

Olin.

Who will be my father, and give me to Leander? I have a mind to this grave Gentlemaan; do you refuse me, Sir?

Doct.
[Page 79]

No, no, no, Madam; go and give her, Sir, go: bless us all, you see what a raging fit she had like to have faln into.

Ger.

I, but I do not like, I do not know, I do not like, I do not know what to say to it.

Doct.

The Divel's in you, have forgot the fellow's married?

Ger.

I had forgot, I had forgot, in troth I should laugh to see her thus recovered; why Gentlemen, is not this a strange way to cure madness?

3 Doct.

It is so, Sir; but it seems they have the experience, the practical part, and truly it seems rational.

Doct.

Why, Sir, if we can but get her to sleep, in the belief that she is married to Leander, my life for yours she wakes i'th' morning in her right senses.

2 Doct.

And sure this back will put me into my wrong senses.

Ger.

Ha, ha, ha, I laugh to think, poor Girl, how she'l be cozen'd into her wits again.

Nur.

Master, as I live, they'r married in earnest; I'l be sworn, with the very same words that I and my husband was.

Ger.

Let them alone, 'tis all but jest, Nurse; why the Apo­thecary's married, fool, and has four children.

Hur.

'Tis true that he is married, but no four children, Sir; but we will have four and four to that Girl.

Olin.

What shall we have but eight Leander?

Hur.

Fiftie, fiftie Sons to vie with Priam; besides Girls shall be reckon'd but as by-blows.

Nur.

Fiftie besides Girls? when shall a poor woman get such a husband?

Hur. Olin.

Now, Sir, we both crave your blessing.

Ger.

Well said Apothecary, thou acts it to the life, i'faith: Gentlemen Doctors does he not do it well?

Hur.

I shall do it better yet; Nurse make a Sack-posset, and let's to bed presently.

Ger.
[Page 80]

No, no, no, no, Nurse, no going to bed, there you o­ver act it Pothecary.

Olin.

Sir, he is no Apothecary, but real Leander, and my lawful husband; therefore we must of necessity go to bed, Sir.

Ger.

Why Doctor, this Girl is stark mad still.

Doct.

No indeed, she speaks sensibly; what would you have a young woman do but go to bed when she's is mar­ried?

Ger.

Why Doctor, thou over acts thy part too.

Doct.

In troth, Sir, this is neither Apothecary, Operator, nor Hurnatio, but very Leander; neither is this his man Stir­quilutio, but his Brother, and a Minister in orders, who has lawfully made 'em man and wife.

Ger.

How Villain! didst not thou say he was married and had four children, and bid me degrade thee of the dignitie of a Doctor, if it were not so.

Doct.

I did so, Sir, and therefore I'l degrade my self; there goes the Doctors, and here's honest Robin Drench the Farrier.

All.

How a Farrier!

2 Doct.

Did not I tell you he must be a cheat.

Hur.

You have found him so, 'tis much that a Doctor wed­ed to Rules and Method should be cozen'd by a Farrier; for you have no disease, 'twas onely a little Cow-itch put down your back.

2. Doct.

A pex upon you, and all your cheats.

Ger.

O this cursed Farrier, this cursed Villain, then you are not mad, Ladie?

Olin.

No, Sir, neither was I mad or dumb, but counter­feited both to cozen the Squire and you, Sir.

Ger.

And you, Sir, were Leander, when you brought me the Letter from Leander?

Lea.

Yes, Sir.

Ger.

And you told me that Leander would steal my daugh­ter, and gave me good counsel to look to her?

Lea.

I did so, Sir.

Ger.
[Page 81]

'Twas good counsel if I could have taken it: that cursed Letter feigned from Leander cozen'd me, that got them credit with me, spite of my jealousie: thou art a pretty fellow, I confess, but the most impudent and audacious Villain, to mar­ry my Child against my will, and before my face too, Gen­tlemen.

Olin.

Do you think I'd have been married but in my Fathers presence? not for all the world.

Lea.

'Twas love forc'd us to make this shift, Sir.

Ger.

A pox of love, for that's the end on't: did not I tell thee all along that thou wouldst cozen me?

Lea.

You did so, Sir, but love can take no warning.

Ger.

For my revenge, I'l to bed, and fall desperately sick, make my will, and dye, and leave thee ne'er a groat, that thou and thy issue may starve and perish.

[ Exit Ger.
Olin.

Fear not Leander, when this fit is over, he's to be re­conciled, fear not.

Doct.

Gentlemen Doctors, I hope 'tis no disparagement to you, that a poor Farrier, by a combination with Nurse, has cured a mad woman.

Nur.

[...] but w [...]e is my reward for it?

Doct.

[...] Nurse, if thou wilt accept of a Farrier instead of a Doctor, I'l love thee still.

Nur.

A pox on you for me, my heart is so set upon the white Periwig, that I shall ne'er be my own woman again.

Enter Jarvis, Isabel, and many Neighbours.
Jar.

Where is my Master, here is witness enough now, that he is no Doctor, but a drunken Farrier; these are all his Neighbours, Gentlemen.

Doct.

I confess I am a Farrier, they all know it too; but can my Neighbours bear witness thou'rt no Cuckold?

Isa.

No, but here is witness that I am thy Wife, and that I am not mad.

Doct.

I'l own that too, thou art my wife, and not mad; nay, more than that, I'l go home and live with thee.

Lea.

Well, I'l give you a Pension of fifty pounds a year, for the good service you did me in your raign of Doctor.

Doct.
[Page 82]

I thank you, Sir: and Jarvis, thou shalt have thy wife again, that thou mayst have a foundation for thy jealousie; for I find when thou art not jealous, thou'rt a dead man.

Ger.

Save the Squire, save the Squire, save the poor Squire.

The Scene opens, and the Squire is discover'd hanging in a cradle.
Olin.

Is not that the Squires voice?

Nib.

Yes, and 'tis high time to let him down now, open, open; come Squire, will you quit your interest in your Mi­stress now to be set free?

Sqr.

I, with all my heart, and the Divel take her to boot; I have hung so long i'th' Air, that the houshold

[Let him down.

took me for Mahome's Tomb, and paid my worship with their Piss-pots out of the Garret, I thank 'em.

Nib.

I caused it to be done.

Nur.

I was joyned with her in commission of the member Vessels.

Nib.

But Squire, since you ha' lost your Mistress, what think you of marrying the wilde Irish Chamber-maid.

Sqr.

Who, Madam Pogamihone, I'l marry my mothers Sow first.

Lea.

But Squire, when shall you and I fight another Duel?

Sqr.

Sir, if I were a man that were given to quarrelling, as sometimes they say in my drink I am; I'd have you know that I am able to beat, and cudgel, half a dozen such fellows as you are, I and make you creep under the Tables and Joynt­stools, Sir; nay, I could cudgel you under a Candle-stick, Sir; that is, if I were a man that were given to quarrelling.

Lea.

I am very happy that you are a man not give to quar­relling.

Sqr.

So you are, Sir; but if I were given to quarrelling, here's a leg that is four and twenty inches about, that's three inches more than any of the Kings Cables, Sir; and I'd have you know, Sir; that I am able not onely to kick you down stairs, but kick you up stairs again, Sir; still that is, if my leg were given to kicking, or I to quarrelling.

Lea.

Well, Sir, we are all blest, that your leg of four and [Page 83] twenty inches about is not given to kicking. Nurse, let the Sack-posset be made: In the interim we'l dance, and have the song of Arthur o' Bradley, where Christopher carried the custard.

Doct.

And bartle the Beef and the Mustard.

[Dance.
Lea.
Come my Olinda, let us in and prove
[ To Olinda.
The sweet Rewards, due to our vertu's Love.
Othen.
I, I, to bed, you now need fear no Proctor,
But thank your Farrier cudgel'd to a Doctor.

EPILOGUE.

YOu that are Learn'd, expect honour for it;
We that are unlearn'd, slight and abhor it:
The Rich does look with scorn upon the Poor,
But give no Alms; the Beggar scorns you more.
Thus does the wretch your wealth disdain; nay worse,
For each proud look, the Beggar gives a curse:
But give him Alms, as I believe 'tis rare,
The Beggar gratefully returns his Pray'r.
So when the Vnlearn'd, by the learn'd improve,
They'l give them honour for their learned Love:
But stead of that, the Vnlearn'd they indite,
And proudly ask us how we dare to write?
We humbly answer our Inditement thus,
If Poetry be Fancie, the right's in us;
For you with Authors are so deeply read,
Invention has no room in learned head;
Borrowing what you read, and Authors citing,
Is your invention, and your writing.
Now th' illiterate are for fancie bent,
Having no learning, they must needs invent.
Thus Poetry is ours to inherit
As much as yours with your learned merit;
For as Quakers preach, we write, by th' spirit.
FINIS.

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