SCAENA. I.

NOw send that all things be well at home,—But troth, I half doubt it, my minde so misgives me:—It could not be for nothing sure, that the Rats eat a hole in my pocket last night, and a Crow kept scraping, and kawing at me this morning:—uh—my fears are out,—This Rogue has given me the slip, and is run away with my cloak bag.—

Oh Lean-chops!—art thou come—

I profess thou didst half fright me,—This London is so villanous a wide place, I was afraid I had lost thee, and must have been at the charge of crying thee;—Art thou come Rogue?

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As you see Sir:—But it seems, must thank this, for your care and my welcome:—And yet I'le undertake it might have lept safe on a Dunghil, for any thing that's in't.

Away sirrah,—I have often told you of your surly proud heart,—sirrah, sirrah, he that scorns a little, shall never be master of a great deal;—No more I say, but stand forth, and lets see whether we have lost any thing by the journey.—

Lazarus Suckdry! (—I God wot, a poor man—as poor as Lazarus!—I must be contended,—) Here I am:— Zacha­ry Lean-chops!

Here sir.

'Tis well,—Lets on:— Item, one horse,—three shoes and a half,—two stirrups,—one saddle,—one bridle,—one girth,—one crupper, and half a saddle-cloth.

All safe and forth-coming.

Very well,—observe,—one doublet with a new pair of Foreskirts,—one paire of Breeches with a blew Cod­piece Point,—one pair of Stockings,—

Without feet Sir.—

No matter, no matter,—'Tis not seen,—one paire of Boots,—one Spur, and Spur-leather,—one pair of Gloves,—one Basket-hilt sword,—one Girdle-hanger,—one Hatt,—one Band,—one Coat,—one jump,—and one switch.—

All in view.

Item, In the cloak-bag,—one Sessions Suit and Cloak,—one pair of blew Stockings, with orange coloured garters, and roses,—Three shoes,—one Comb, with five teeth,—one razor,—half a washing ball, and a piece of a Glass,—let me see, is it fast?—all safe?—ha?—

As you left it:—He deserves to to be damn'd after it, that would venture a hanging by stealing any of't:

Come Lean-chops, come,—This place is a little too publick,—We'll look over the rest when we come home.

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Unless we chance to meet a Rag-man by the way; and then—Rags to Rags, and Rubbish to Rubbish.

Follow me,—and have a care,—Here comes a couple.—

One does not know what they may do.—Have a care, I say,—Have a care.—

Mr. Suckdry!—Your servant,—welcome to Town:

Thank you good Sir,—uh,—uh,—he believes I have money in my Cloak-bagge,—would I were well rid of him.

How do you?—you do not look well,—let me give you a glass of wine;—'twill comfort your heart.

Wine!—uh—uh—I dare not,—my Doctor tells me 'tis naught for me.—I was right:—He thinks I have got mony, and would make me drunk, to steal my Cloak-bag,—uh—uh.

Come,—it shall cost you nothing.

Another time,—uh,—uh,—This Rogue Lean-chops has smelt [...] my gold at home, and told him where it lies buri­ed.—uh,—uh.—

What ailes you Sir.

Uh,—uh,—sick,—A sit of the Chollick.—I must home.

But perhas I have somewhat to say to you, may deserve your stay:—You have a daughter?

A poor Girle God wot,—What of her?

Call her not poor—she that is vertuous, and handsome, is rich enough.

Ah Sir,—But every man is not of your opinion—Alas poor child! she wants a Portion:—There's something else re­quir'd, besides vertue, and handsomness.—This, may bring ad­mirers, that, sweet-hearts, but 'tis mony, mony that gets the hus­band.

Let not that trouble you:—I have a Son, and though I say [Page 4] it, a handsome fellow; One, that throw him where you will, shall live in the world.

But I can give nothing with my daughter,—poor wench, She's a right Philosopher; She carries all she has about her:—Good Sir do not abuse our Poverty,—uh,—uh.—

Nor do I:—Here's my hand, I'm in earnest:—What say you?

I have told you already:—she has no mony:

And I have answered it:—Shall we bring 'em together?

For that, as you please,—you know her Portion,—uh,—uh:—I am sick, and cannot stay to talk it longer now:—Farewel Sir,—This is a Trap to catch my gold,—But he may be mistaken,—Old Rats are not so easily taken, as young Cats think,—uh,—uh:

Jocose, Farewel:—my Sonne and I'le see you within a few daies.

But (with your leave Sir) I hope you are not in earnest.

No?—But I am:—And if I can but compasse it, shall think it the best daies work I ever yet did in my life:—This fellow (as poor as he seems) tell him but of a good Mortgage shall lend you ten thousand pound upon't, at a dayes warning; and yet would have the world believe him to be a poor man: And such, in troth he is, since he dares not enjoy what he has: for (O my Conscience) were he now sick in earnest, he would rather die, to save charges, then be at the expence of a Glister.

A man would wonder at it,—Yet such I've heard of.

But beyond him, I think few:—I have had this design in my head a long time, and made him many a Mortgage, and kept touch with him at his day, meerly to beget an opinion in him that I had great dealings in the world; when yet I have found enough to do, to keep my head above water.

Do not despair Sir:—But think how I may be service­able to you, and see what I'le do,—A Mountebanck's Zany, shall [Page 5] not be at more command, nor half so nimble, as I'le be indu­strious.

I do believe thee, and perhaps may have occasion to try you sooner then you think of [...]t:

Never too soon; nor nothing too much to serve so good and bountiful a Master:

Well then, to be serious,—I have a great while gone the plain down-right honest way, but I find, that begets nothing, but laughter; And therefore, I'm ev'n resolv'd to follow the rest of the world, That is to say, feed the humours of fools, and if they will set up windmils in their heads, contribute my assistance to cut out the sailes;—When saw you Sir Gudgeon Credulous?

Very lately;—But so big with contemplation, there was no coming near him,—'Tis true, he cry'd, How does your Master?—Remember me to him,—Gave me the State Nod,—and Exit.

'Tis such a Political Hocus! such a Frippery of Shreds, and parings, that I can liken him to nothing better, then a Tay­lors Cushion; no two pieces of the same colour:—To day this, to morrow, that, the next, a third thing, But what that is, no man knows; 'tis past all mens understanding, and his own too; for (to speak truth) he never had more, then a man might well trusse up in an Egge-shell, and room to spare: in a word, I may say of him (as 'tis said of Nature, concerning Monsters) He was produc'd, not intended.

Nor have you mistook your Character—I have known him A Mathematician, a Pol, a Star-gazer, a Quack, a Chaldean, a Schoolman, a Philosopher, an Asse, a broken Grammarian, and most abominable Poet, and yet fick of all, but the Asse: and now at last (if I mistake him not) a most confident, ignorant Projectour.

And that, he may thank me for,—I saw he was past the remedy of a Mortar, and if I should have pretended to a miracle, to have reduc'd him, 'twould have been hardly believ'd; And therefore I ev'n let him alone, and as I saw occasion, work't him to my own purpose:—me thinks you might be useful to me in't.

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And will:—I am your servant, command it;

Here dwells hard by, one Mistris Gods-good, a rich Widow, to whom I have made some long pretences; nor had they been (as I am told) altogether succesless, if this Cockscombs Estate had not hung in my light:—she believes him what he is, an Asse, but yet a golden Asse, and cry's, that's enough to cover his other faults: Now could I flea him of that fine skin, I need not trouble my self to make him ridiculous, and consequently, do mine own work.

And truly he's in a fair way to't.—And now give me leave to tell you, you could have thought of nothing wherein I could have serv'd you better.

I know thou hast been bred a Schollar, and thy invention not ill:—But canst thou Cant?

How think you Sir,—Suppose I should tell him I had studied the Emporeuticks, Lemnicks, Camnicks, and Plegnicks, could demonstrate the Minimum quod sit, of Homocrecious, and Heterocrasious; and stripping Materia Prima to her smock, dis­cover the most private recesses, and occult qualities, of Ignica­drillica, Metallorgonica, Euricatactica, and Hydropanta pressoria, Do you believe (I say) he would be able to understand more of it, than I do my self, which is just nothing? If you call this Cant­ing, let me alone with him.

Excellent!—Then to subdivide 'um into as undemon­strable (yet seemingly probable) Projects,—We shall make such sport!

And get good mony I warrant you Sir,—But see! my young Master,—yet me thinks not so merry at heart as we are.

Now Nando!—What news with you:—Thou art as spruce, as if thou hadst been with thy young Widow, yet look'st as heavy, as she had turn'd thee to lead:—How goes it?

Why faith Sir, I just came from her.

And what?—How did she receive thee?

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So, so,—The City way,—But at last I had laught her into a pretty good humour, 'till (as the Devil would have it) in dropt her Uncle, and quite dampt all, with a noise of Joyn­tures, and I know not what, A disease, I think I shall be last trou­bled with:—To be short, she did in effect tell me, she was handsome, and would never marry, but to better her Fortune.

Let her go, let her go;—If thou wilt not be wanting to thy self, I le put thee upon a better, and one that shall never cheat thee by pretending to be richer then she is; for in a word, she is not worth one groat.

What do you mean Sir?

A good wife, and (for ought I ever heard) may make a vertuous wife.

No ready mony Sir?—me thinks, half one half 'tother, were somewhat like:

Let not that trouble you:—Her Father is rich, very rich, and has no other child to leave his Estate to, and shall ra­ther put her off, to an ordinary Fortune, with nothing, then give an hundred pound, to marry her to the best Estate in London.

And who may this be good Sir?

Old Suckdry's daughter.

I could like it well:—But how is it to be done?

Not, with that tossing Feather, Lewd Peruwig, Lac'd Band, Flanting Linnen, Embroyder'd Belt, wide Slops, Shop of Ribbons, and vile Porte-canons.

Why Sir, you have seen them all before:

Nor am I angry with thee, for doing as other people do,—no,—I had rather have thee comport thy self to every mans hu­mour:—With old men, severe; with young, jocund; with the humoursome, morose; with women, galliard; with thy compa­nions, pleasant; and with a niggardly Rascal, more sordid than himself; at least, appear so;—And so would I have thee treat this fellow.

If that were all, I could easily follow your directions.

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And you may not repent it:—Go,—be rul'd by me;—Strip all this trumpery,—'tis enough to fright him:—should he see thee now, he'd swear the feathers were more worth than the Bird:—Go I say, and get me some little odde hat, but quite out of fashion; a diminutive Band, no cuffs, haire shorter than your eye-brows, at most, not beyond your ears, close breeches, greazy Gloves, Gresham Shoes, Leather Shoe-tyes, and for your Cloak, no matter if it be of another Parish, he'll like it the better.

My acquaintance would laugh at me.

Get thou the mony, and laugh at them boy:—Then for your discourse,—get me together all the base, ill, sordid tricks of a covetous wretch, and deliver them as morals;—wonder at the ignorance of the age that knows not those honest thrifty Rules, or if it do, its shame in not practising them.

Well Sir, I see you are in earnest,—and for once I'le try what I can do:—But I doubt—

Do—and ne're doubt it:—about it straight, while 'tis hot, and leave the rest to me.

You have commanded, and I shall not dispute:—But if I bring it to passe, I may well swear, miracles are not ceast.

Come—let's be gone,—thou knowest the plague's in the City, and if I stay longer, 'tis odds but I may be infected.

I hope Sir, you do not fear Sir Gudgeon Credulous?

O no,—he's a good preservative against it.

I told you he was as big as he could hold,—Do you not observe Sir, how hard he wrings his brows, to the manifest ha­zard of disblocking his Peruwig?—Will you not speak to him?

Presently,—let's view him a little.

It must take without doubt, and the profit be infi­nite,—No man knows what:—But for the manner of doing [Page 9] it:—This way?—No—It may be certain, but 'tis too far about the bush.—That way?—No:—for though it be the shorter cut, we may yet be too hasty in the experiment.—Tother way?—Neither,—the charge will be too vast:—Hang charge, we shall quickly fetch't up agen,—All I fear is, The thing will be so considerable, it may chance to be begg'd from us; and against that, there's no other fence, but to swear 'tis worth nothing—That was well thought on.—Then after this, comes my Widow—I shall be but too rich—one Ju­piter! there could be no lesse then then ten Jupiters, Lords of my Nativity.

Sir Gu. Credulous!—save you!—I see theres hopes of the business you mind it so well.—Have you made any experiment?

Yes.—But I do not find it altogether answer ex­pectation:—However, 'tis but early daies yet.

Pray be very curious in it, and Driver (to whom I have committed the management of my interest) shall assist you: I must tell you, he's no ordinary Artist.

Better and better—then he has seen it?

Seen it Sir!—If I should tell your Worship all I have seen, I should despair of the work, 'twould so put you out of pa­tience.

Good Driver!—and how? and when?

Did not I tell you, you would not have patience?—Good sir let things do themselves:—one minutes over-hast, is enough to put us a twelvemonth back:—for it fares here as with the Philosophers Stone, the least error in the work, and we must begin all anew.

Honest Mr. Driver—I will be rul'd.—

'Tis he—I have his name here fast in my Book in good black and white.—Let me see— E, F, G, H, J, J, J—Jo, Jo, Jo—Jocose—Here 'tis— Jocose—pag. 150.—Mr. Jocose for himself and [Page 10] Wife—108 l. 7 s. 9 d. ob.—A good round sum, would I had it, I could be content to bate him the single mony.

But hark you Driver—Thou seest this Pagan Cousin of mine, and know'st his business;—prythee put him off with some whim or other.

I warrant you sir,—leave him to me.

Cousin! your servant—I was just sending my man to speak with you, but he knows the business, and can tell't you, as well as my self.—Come Sir Gudgeon—I le wait on you.

Your servant sir—I thank you.

Now Mr. Gotam, you may see what 'tis to have a Friend at Court—You thought, I warrant, my Master had forgotten you.

Why, truly sir, this mony has been due a pretty while;—long before his Wife died, I am certain.

No more of that.—Suppose he put you on a businesse shall make you for ever,—And be worth ye:—thou hast hardly faith enough to believe, what!

Aa!—good Mr. Driver.—As how I pray?

Why thus,—my Master, you know, has great friends, and therefore doubts not, but by their assistance to procure a Pa­tent of Priviledge, to engross a business solely to himself.—I must confess it will scarce amount to more then a Coppy-hold Project.—

What do you mean by that?

That is to say, it will not exceed Ten Thousand pound a year,—and I can assure you, if ever there were an ingenious Invention, 'tis this,—and in this my Master intends to take you in with him, and let you go what share you please.—You shall do no worse then himself.

Ah sir, my Cousin is an honest Gentleman, and I have had long experience of his love:—How do ye call it?

'Tis an Ignicke, Hydre [...]icke, and Hydroterricke invention, consisting of Heat without Fire or Smoke: and certainly, Nature and Art, melted down into the same body, could not produce [Page 11] such another Diacat h [...]licon, that shall equally serve to all purposes; Roast, Bake, Boile, Wash, Brew, dry Mault, Hops, Wheat, Oats, and generally every thing else (as I told you before) without the help of Fire or Smoak:—Now sir, you know the business, and may consider of it.

Consider!—I apprehend it already, and find it too great to be dally'd with:—Why it will destroy all the Wood­mongers upon the River, and reduce them to their first Dung­boats agen.—How have you done touching the charge?

Truly you have hit upon one of the main points,—and part of the reason why my Master made you privy to it;—for as on one hand, we must take in some Sharers to lessen the charge, so on t'other, it behoves us to consider how many we may admit, for fear of diminishing the profits.

Most true—we'll carry't on between our selves:—It will fall to my turn to be Church-warden this next year, and then I shall have the Custody of the Parish Stock, if that will serve you, command it,—we shall be able (I hope) to fetch it up a­gain before my time be out.

By much:—But the business is now on foot, and must not stand still for fear of spoyling; and therefore we must be pro­vided of present money; because, you know, some fees must be scatter'd among Servants and Clerks, and some other will go to making of Tryals,—things will not come without charge.

You say right,—and now I think on't, I may be able to bring in my Neighbour Squeeze, the Exchange Broker, and by his means old Mr. Suckdry, and Mrs. Godsgood; theres mony enough at an hours warning, if one could tell how to get it.

Pray about it, and I'le see you tomorrow;—if you go forth leave word where I may find you.—Ferewell,—I must follow my Master,—the Knight and he are gone to see a proof of what I told you.

Farewell,—but Mum.—Certain I rize with the right end upward to day, I have had such good luck;—I shall be an Alderman I see, in spight of all three-half penny Stars:—I think a Brass-jack-line would hang as well o'my shoulders as on ano­ther [Page 12] mans;—certain it must.—But see—my Wife.—

This Hyterridinctido will be news to her,—y'faith will it.—Sweet heart!—well met.

I had as liefe ha'found you at home;—the main chance goes well forward in the mean time, and you never in your Shop:—God held! a Beggar I found thee, and a Beg­gar thoult leave me.

Nay Wife,—I have good news for thee,—I have been with my Cousin.

And has he paid you the mony?—I am sure't has been due ever since my first Husbands time.

'Tis sure enough,—not too hasty Wife,—we are beholding to him,—you know he took notice of me at Court, shew'd you the Privy Lodgings, got you a place at the Play, gave you a Bot­tle of the Kings Wine, and a Court Tart, and sends us Venison twice in a season Wife.—

Better he had sent his mony, and I could have got t'other my self;—marry gipp,—this is one of your old excuses; you think you have got a Wife can maintain you, and now for­sooth you must walk like a Gentleman:—Sirrah, sirrah, look out and mind your business, or I'le make you look out.

Good faith I do.

Yes—among your Gills too much:—what was that you said to our maid 'tother night in the Kitchin, when you thought I was a bed?—I heard you,—you mought have come up a pair of stairs higher if you had pleas'd;—I do'nt wonder now she'as lost her stomach.

This is nothing but thy jealous head.

Jealous!—Come up here!—You can be merry enough abroad, when you are amongst your flirts, but at home you're as sad and lumpish as a Gibb'd Cat;—I can tell you the reason,—Thou art sad because thou canst not bury me:—I half doubt the Rats-bane you bought 'tother day was not alto­gether [Page 13] for the Rats:—Do you understand that, Gentle­man?

Not I in troth.

No, you won't,—you can understand your Gossips well enough.—'Tis a fine thing, you must be perpetually hop­ping after them; and I forsooth! I cannot walk in the fields with a Friend,—but whoop! the house is too little for you.—My first Husband was another kind of man; my finger could not ake but he I woo's!—nothing was too good for me.—When will you say, Dear wife, Honey wife, Sugar wife, how dost thou? dost want any thing? would'st have a new Gown? go abroad? walk to Islington? see the Bears?—Go whither thou wilt; do what thou hast a mind to,—I am not jealous:—Here was a Husband!

Prethee have done,—I told thee I had been with my Cousin, and have good news for thee.

As what I warrant?

What!—Such as shall make thee a Lady within this Twelvemonth:—My Cousin and I are ingag'd in a business cannot be less worth then Fifteen Thousand Pound a Year ho­nestly:—Now Wife!—where's your Loving Husband?

Whatever I say in my passion, thou art—'Tis but only to make the better.—But hark ye my dear,—sha'nt we not keep a Coach then?

A Coach!—Yes,—and Eight Horses,—and our Coun­try House new built.—Come—follow me, and I'le tell thee the rest within, which I would have thee communicate to your friend Mrs. Godsgood, and bring her in for a share, while I do the same to my Neighbour Squeeze the Exchange Broker:—Come—

Any thing good Husband,—I'le be thy best Wife.

SCAENA. 1.

VVEll—o'my Conscience there was never so un­luckey a fellow as my self;—Service do you call it? Certainly, if Damnation be only Poena Sensus, that were a fitter name for it:—Here I live with a Master that has Wealth enough; But so fearful, sad, pensive, suspicious a fel­low, that he disquiets both himself, and every one else.—Art (I have heard say) has but Seven Liberal Sciences, but he has a Thousand Illiberal.—There lives not a more base, nigarly, unsatiable Pinch penny, nor a more gaping, griping, Polling, ex­torting, devouring Cormorant:—A spunge sucks not up fa­ster, and yet a Pumice gives back easier.—The sign is always with him in the Clutches; and a Kites Pouncke truss not more readily.—He shall watch you a young Heir, as diligently, as a [...]aven a dying Horse, and yet swallow him with more tears then a Crocodile.—He never sleeps but he Seals up the Nose of his Bellows, least they loose breath, and has almost broke his Brains, to find the like device for his Chimney, and his Throat—A Gamester has not studyed the advantage of Dice half so much, as he, a sordid Parcimony, which yet he calls Thrift; And will tell you to a Crum, how much difference there is in point of loss, between a hundred dozen of bread broken with the hand, and cut with a knife:—The Devil's in him, and I am as weary of him, as of our last Journey, which both of us perform'd on the [Page 15] same horse.—As thus,—In the morning (about two hours before him) out gets Peel-Garlick, he joggs after, overtakes me, rides through the next Town, and a little beyond it, leaves Palfry a grazing for me, and marches on himself; in like manner, I get up, overtake him, ride on, and leave him on this side the next Town, and so order our business, that he rides out in the morning, and into the Inn at night, and through every Town by the way. Nor need we fear any mans stealing him: Smithfield at the end of a long Vacation cann't shew such another Wall-ey'd, Crest-falne, Saddle-back't, Flat-rib d, Gut-founder'd, Shoulder-pitcht, Spur­gall'd, Hip-shotten, Greese-moulten jade; besides Splint, Spa­vin, Glanders, Farce, String-halt, Sprains, Scratches, Malander, and Wind-galls innumerable.—Like the fools Hobby-horse; were it not for the name of a horse, a man had as lief go a foot:—and thus we jogg on in grief together.—But hold,—I hear him,—somewhat's amiss.

Undone, undone,—whither should I run?—whither should I not run?—Stop there,—whom? what? where?—I know not— Lean-chops!

Sir,—what ayles you?

Oh—A lost undone man:—what a deal of misery a day brings forth?—I have lost my mony, and what should I live longer:—hunger and poverty will be my end.

How much have you lost Sir?

I believe thou knowst as well as I,—Ah—a whole half piece,—Gon, gon, gon; and I undone.—I believe thou hast found it;—open your coat,—Lets see your right hand,—your left hand,—both hands,—your third hand,—vh,—no hopes,—undone undone.

Pray sir search,—perhaps it may be about you—you have many pockets.

Impossible,—impossibble,—vh!

Why see now,—may not you be asham'd to use me [Page 16] thus, and for nothing too?

Asham'd!—what should a poor man do with shame?—Get in, get in.—

Tis past three of the Clock, and I have eat nothing today.

This Rogues mind is nothing but his Gut;—A good thrifty servant, that minded his Masters profit, would have gone to the Cooks, and cheapen'd every joynt, tasted all, but bought none, and made a good meal on't.—One would think sir­rah, you might not be asham'd to do what your Master has done before you.—Get in, I say, and look to the house.

There's no fear that any one will carry't away, and for any thing in't, there's nothing but Cob-webs.

What's that he mutters? No marvel sirrah, if for your sake I am not made an Alderman!—I will have the Cob-webs preserv'd, they are good for a cut finger.—Get in I say—How the slave stirs?—If I come to ye, I le mend your Snails pace.

One were better be hang'd then endure this life.

How he mumbles the Devils Pater Noster?—Sirrah get in, and stir one foot till I call ye, and thou hast as good have broke thy neck.—So,—He's gone.—

And I'le go visit my gold:—I am affraid I have spoken in my sleep, or dropt some word or other that may discover it; or that this Rogue has eyes in his Poll, and observ'd where I buried it,—but if he has, I'le so dig 'um out:—I have reason e­nough to suspect it—men speak more heartily to me then they were wont; are more free in their salutes; stop, and talk with me; shake me by the hand, ask me how I do, whither I am going, what's my business, if they may serve me, and the like,—nay, Mr. Jocose t'other day would have giv'n me Wine, and pre­fer'd his Son should marry my Daughter, without a Portion too!—Ah, Ha,—I do not like when rich men speak kindly to a poor man; they offer bread with one hand, but carry a stone in t'o­ther.—But I loose time,—my gold, my gold:—this must be the place:—All's safe, and I'm alive agen:—All hail!—

[Page 17] [A board sinks, and his bags are discover'd. Thou that giv'st form to every thing.—Thou sun of life,—Thou Guardian that protect'st us;—Thou Regent of the world, that disposest's all things as thou best pleasest's and without whom, humane society would quickly fall in pieces:—For what­ever else may be call'd the Girdle, I am sure thou art the Buckle that hold st it together.—There—rest in peace my better

Angels; and while I call yee mine, let the world frown, laugh, point, or hiss, one glance of yours is worth it all; and I shall want nothing, but too few Arms to hugge my self:—I shall be courted by every man, welcome every where (at least from the teeth outwards) for in this world, Gold seasons and relishes every thing, and men are received, not for the Asses, but the Goddes's sake.—Tis like having a handsom Wife, every man is, or would be your Servant.—Hoe! Lean-chops, Lean-chops.

Your pleasure Sir?

I am going abroad Lean-chops,—shut the door after me, bolt it, and bar it, and see you let no one in, in my absence—Put out the fire (if there be any) for fear some body seeing the smoak may come to borrow some.—If any one come for wa­ter, say the Pipe's cut off,—or to borrow a Pot, Knife, Pestle and Morter, or the like, say they were stole last night.—But hark ye,—I charge ye not to open the door to give them an an­swer, but whisper't through the key-hole: For I tell you agen, I will have no body come into my house while I'm abroad;—No,—no living soul:—Nay though good Fortune her self knockt at door, don't let her in.

Shee'l have care enough of that her self,—she has been often near us (but I think there is a Cross upon the door) she ne're came in yet.

Sirrah, sirrah hold your peace and do as I bid you;—'T would better become you to know more, and speak less:— [Page 18] See it be done.—

See who's at door, but let not one in, till you have brought me word.—

What a misery 'tis to be thought rich,—one or other is perpe­tually haunting him,—while the poor man yet, is rich in this, that he's troubled with none of it:—He fears neither Thieves, nor Quartering of Souldiers; he is exempt from rates, and Parish­duties; He sleeps securely without Bolts, and is subject to no mans envy; every mans Trencher is his Table, every place his own Country, and lives in peace with all men, but the Justice, the Constable, and the Beadle.—

How no! Who was't?

Mr. Squeeze, your Exchange Broker—he would sain speak with you.

O let him in by all means,—he is a good man, and ne­ver comes empty handed,—make haste before he be gone sirrah—

This Rogue will never learn wit,—one would have thought he had liv'd long enough with me to have been able to distinguish persons,—I must ev'n discard him,—'Twill save char­ges.—

I'le shew you the way Gentlemen, I have some Inte­rest in my pocket for him, and will pay him that first,—'twill make him more supple.—I was just coming sir to wait on you with some monie that I had receiv'd for you, and met with these Gentlemen coming to me about a like business, and I ev'n brought e'm with me.—Tis—

O they are weleome, they are welcome, and chiefly your self:—It came in good time, for I profess, I had hardly a groat in the house.

[Page 19]

How?—Then our business is done already:—what's worse then ill luck?

Please you to tell it over.—The overplus is for con­tinuance.

Do'nt speak so loud,—I understand you.

Let him alone a while,—let him handle the monie,—He means, he has never a Groat he would spare by his good will.

Tis all right and vvell,—only here's a Parliament Six­pence, pray change it.

How was I mistaken?—There sir.

Hark you Neighbour,—what's their business?

Such as you never dealt in before,—the most inge­nuou'st Invention was ever yet found out.—I'le undertake af­ter the first Year you may make Cent. per Cent. of your monie e­very three months, besides a certain Banke ready upon all oc­casions.

Say you so good Mr. Squeeze?—As how? As how?

They'll tell you that themselves;—You know Mr. Gotam? he has been alwaies held a sober man.

Indeed has he, and vvell to pass:—He is of the Li­vory, and in a short time will be Master of his Company;—He marry'd the Widovv Minee; I knew her first Husband,—he vvas a thriving man.

Marry was he.—But the business is of so great a con­cernment, that 'tis not one or two ordinary mens purses are able to carry it on.—The other is Sir Gudgeon Credulous, a vvor­thy, vvise Knight, and in his own Country of the Peace, and Quorum.

He seems no other.

There is a Gentlewoman too, one Mistriss Gods-good.

O,—I have heard of her,—A rich Widovv.

That she is o'my knowledg; I deal for her,—All [Page 20] persons concern'd,—but the main Wheele of the vvork is Mr. Jocose.—Faith sir, I'd have you come in too;—As poor a man as I am, I am resolv'd to go in Five hundred pounds.

But what shall you come out Neighbour? What? &c.

No man knows what!—You had best speak to 'um.

How much would they have from me?

That shall be as you please, whither any thing or no­thing:—only at present they would borrow of you Tvvo Thousand pound.

Two thousand pound!—Do you know vvhat you say?

Yes, 2000 lib.—You are too quick for me,—I meant upon good security.

O—that alters the case.—Life is frail, man mortal,—but good Security may do much;—What is the Security?—Citizens, or Country Gentlemen?—You know my vvay,—I must have a Judgment at least.

Pray talk with 'em your self.

You're welcome Mistriss,—Sir Gudgeon Credulous, I understand,—And you Mr. Gotam,—Your businesse vvith me?

The same sir.—I thought Mr. Squeeze had inform'd you?

If he has not, we shall.

Why truly—he has given me a small touch of't.

Then thus Sir,—We are all persons jointly concern'd in the same business; and we look upon the whole charge (what is past and to come) may amount to 9000 li.—somewhat under a years profits:—Of this I am out already 4000 li. The Wi­dow Gods-good advances 1500 li. more;—Mr. Gotam 1000 li. Mr. Squeeze 500 li.—And to make up the sum, we vvould bor­row of you 2000 li.—upon good Security.—

Alas sir!—2000 li.—I am a poor man: 2000 li. and I are not so near of kin, but we may marry to morrow.—But if [Page 21] your securitie be like, and you'll be civil to me, I have some friends:—Pray Sir what is your securitie?

Would the Court of Aldermens were as good:—Se­curitie!

Sir there's a Gentleman at door enquires for you.

For me?—It may be Mr. Jocose,—Pray desire him to come in,—I am glad he found me out,—Now you'l be able to see the very guts of the business.

What share goes he?

Alas Sir, None;—'Tis enough for him that the in­vention was, and the Patent will be his:—There's reason in all things:—

Oh Mr. Driver! Where's your Master?

Where's my Cosin?

He intended to have been with you himself, but being unluckily takenill of the Gout, he sent me to your house, where I heard of your being here.—

A good rich disease—I warrant I shall ne're be trou­bled with't.

All that he bad me signifie to you was,—That the work went well on, and only wanted more workmen, and more materials.

We are about it now, and have provided very well for the time.—And now you are come, pray save me a labour, and let this Gentleman understand the business.

Which Sir?—That of the Plegnick Screw, The Hand­quern, or the Horse-Wind-Water-Mill?

Ha!—Ha!—

Have you more then one?

Divers, divers, which is the reason of the excessive charge,—Though troth, twas more then I knew before—

—But—The more the merrier: Prythee lets have that, that [Page 22] is now in operation—I think you call'd it, The Metallorgan icum Ignicadrillicum.

You mean that of a constant heat, without fire or smoak.

The same, The same.

How is't possible?—which way?

Tell you that, and tell you all;—Every Art has it's Occult quality, which once demonstrated, would cease to be a secret, and some other might chance to get between us and home:—However, since here are none but friends, and all well­willers, I will give ye some small hints of't, which to be short, is singly effected by a new kind of motion (for you know, motion is the cause of heat,) And this meeting with matter ready dispos'd, shall either work naturally by it self, or in cases extraordinary, by an Antiperistasis:—and be, not only Equi-sufficent, Equi­cheap, Equi-excellent, as all minor Projects pretend to, but more cheap, more sufficient, and super-excellent, which when we are better acquainted, I will easily demonstrate.

I'll promise you, if this be able to be made good, 'twill save abundance of Wood and Coales.

That's least;—What say you to this?—First there can be no danger of firing; for as I told you before, 'tis done without fire.—Secondly, You are not troubled with smoak, the greatest enemie to mans health.—Thirdly, No Soot shall fall into the Pot, nor Fat be lost in the Fire. Fourthly, It shall so preserve the ra­dical moisture, juice, and substance of Hops, and Mault, that whereas now, they retain in a manner, only their fixt salt, and ex­crementitious dead substance, this shall so conserve their Balsa­mical spirits, That the Brewer shall be able to afford twelve shil­ling Beer, at half a Crown a Barrel, and get more by't then he does now:—Fifthly, As you well observ'd, no charge of fuel.—Sixthly, (Which one were enough by it self) It is an inven­tion, or rather a new marvellous Art, useful to all, and injurious to none, and such as besides the eternising our-names to Posteri­ty, shall give us at present, Honour, Fame, Friends, Wealth, and (as a consequent of that) every thing.

[Page 23]

What think you of this Sir?

O'my Word no contemptible buisness.—I hear he has more on foot; and why may n't we get one to our selves?

Perhaps you may:—And the lending this mony may be a good introduction to t'other.

Don't you think they would take half mony, and half Jewels?

Perhaps they might, but then you must enlarge the su [...], or they may want mony to carry on the work.

You say right:—What's their Security?

O'my Conscience if you would but stand upon't, they'd go near to Mortgage to you, a third or a fourth part of the clear Profits.

Softly,—Don't talk of a Fourth,—I'll make 'um be­lieve I will have a moiety; though rather then fail, I could be contented with less.

If I might advise you Sir—

Why truly to tell you truth,—we have made very few proofs of the rest:—But if you will call at my Mastres's, I'll give you that account of 'em may be worth your trouble:—There will be enough for you all.

But hark ye Mr. Driver,—Don't you bob me off, with a third rate Project now?—

Sir Gudgeon! that you should think so!

Do you propose it to 'um:

I shall Sir.—Mr. Gotam you know we propounded 2000. l. for Mr. Suckdry:—I have done the Work, and he shall be contented with a third part of the profits for Securitie,—I hope you will consider me in my Share.

And all the reason in the World;—You hear Gentlemen what he sayes.

I would have him secur'd,—But I would not though leave a twentie shilling piece in pawn for a groat.

Alas Sir, 'Tis none of my mony, 'tis my Friends, and I'le account truly between you both:—If you intend honestly you cannot give too great Securitie.

[Page 24]

You may do it, I'le undertake my Master shall not op­pose it.

Then get ready the Writings;—I hope we shall have a good account in a short time.

As soon as you please;—I'll about it straight;—We may be all made and send us but good luck.

Well Sir, Farewel for the present.

Farewel good Gentlemen;—But stay Mr. Driver,—pray stay,—let me speak with you,—methought you were saying your Master had a great many other Projects;—Surely,—surely, he must be a very rich man.

Why faith Sir, he is well enough, tho' he be at a great deal of charge; for now and then an Engine breaks, and an ex­periment fails; should all take right, he would be too rich, but that's almost impossible; he that will get, must now and then ven­ture to losse.—This is our comfort, the first good hit, pays for all miscarriages.

That's well,—But pray tell me,—What children has your Master?—

One Son Sir, and that's all:—I have often ask'd him why he toiles himself to leave so great an estate, when the tenth part of what he has alreadie would serve my Young Master, and to spare.

No ill sign,—I like him the better,—But dost think he was in earnest when he propos'd a match between his son, and my daughter?

Yes trulie, if he said it, you may believe him;—But alas! What should my young Master do with all that Wealth you two are like to leave him?

Keep it, keep it, and breed more:—Prythee tell me, dost think thy Master would settle a good swinging Project upon him in possession?

Yes trulie, I believe he may.

Then hark you,—Pick me out a good round one, and it may not be the worse for thee;—'Tis the first part of Faul­conrie [Page 25] to hold fast, and if thy young Master has that good quali­tie, I dare trust him for the rest,—or he may quickly learn it.—

I shall be glad with all my heart to be an instrument, in the business;—And now upon second thoughts, I think your daughter may make an excellent wife for him.

Your reason good Mr. Driver,—Your reason?

Because I have so often heard him protest against your great matches, (as he calls 'em) and compares 'em to an ill pud­ding, all blood, and no fat.

I'le be sworn, a hopeful young man;—But tell me (Prethee be true to me) what kind of wife does he most affect, if he might have his choice?

What?—Ev'n a good honest mans daughter that shall bring him no charge, nor put him in fear of being eat out by her kindred—One that shall never send her Husband on a How d'ye, or keep more Coaches in Town, then he has plows going in the Countrie—One that shall not spend his Michaelmas Rents, in Midsomer Moon, and cost him more in sailes, and rig­ging, then the Hull's worth.

'Tis a hundred pitties, but thou were Supervisor Gene­ral of the Female sex.

Faith Sir, I card not much if I were, I should be the bet­ter able to serve my friends—But this is not all.

Prythee on—I like it well.

One that is not haunted with Perfumers, Lacemen, Mil­leners, Silkmen, Jewellers, Mercers, Exchange-men, Semsters, and Hey day! And can be contented with her husbands Tailor.—One that understands not the way of smooth chinn'd pages, and can find both Lacquies, and women, in a single Chamber­maid—One that was never read beyond Aqua fortis, and tin­ning glass, and is as much gravelled at Spanish Paper, and Talcke as a Countrie Vicar, at an Hebrew Pedigree:—One that has no Aunts, nor she Cosins to visit, and goes not above thrice a week to the Drawers for new patterns—One (to be short) that is all her self, and thinks it no scorn, to be her own Semstress, and Tirewoman.

[Page 26]

Say'st thou me so my heart?—And if I han't a girle that fits him, she is not like her Father:—Come Master Dri­ver—Be but assistant in striking up this match, and thou shalt ne're know what it may be worth thee:—Come,—A man must promise at large, though he perform at leisure; hope makes men diligent.

SCAENA. 1.

I—This is something!—I protest I should hardly have known thee my self!—But one thing—I do not like this hat,—'tis so high Crown'd, he'll swear 'tis meere waste, and three Ounces of stuffe might have been well sav'd.

That may be quickly mended, either by getting another, or circumcising this;—it lies under the band, and will ne're be seen, or if it should, he'll like it the better.

Ne're doubt it Sir.—It must take—for I have read him such a Lecture of my young Masters frugalitie, that he is out of all patience till he see him,—and if you can but out-cant him now, the work's done.

That must be left to chance,—And yet 'tis not impos­sible, but I may make my partie good with him:—Have I liv'd in Genoa (where the Jews come laughing in, and go crying [Page 27] out, as having met with greater Jews then themselves,) and do you think I shall not be able to deal with him?—I war­rant ye:

Well said Nando,—A good confidence is half the thing.

But when must this robbery be?

I expect him here instantly, though not purposely about this business; for my design was to have it come on, as it were by the By, and of it self.

What other business has he?

O Sir!—To see how the main work goes forward; Be­sides, he expects you should settle a good lusty Project upon my young Master; and I am wide of the mark, if he is not hammer­ing at another for himself.—And to tell you truth, so they are all,

Now send that thou hast not engag'd us further, then we shall be able to get off fairly.

Pray Sir trust me—Have I desired you to appear in't? Or been wanting to't in any thing my self?

Well, I referre it to thee;—But must you have all the sport? were't not possible that I might at least laugh in­wardly.

I was just making it my request to you, that you would so dispose your self, as to overhear the discourse, and perhaps it may not be unworth your while—for the men having con­sider'd that two heads are better than one, have communica­ted it to their wives, and ask'd their Advise in the point, and they are so a Gogg upon't, that they must have their Projects too, and amongst them, you'l find your Widow,—I never saw things hit more luckilie,—'tis impossible but you must car­ry her,

Do you expect 'um here?

I wonder they stay so long,—and when they come, what they will say;—

That knock, may chance to be their's.

Take the occasion of leaving 'em alone,—for perhaps [Page 28] they may be more free amongst themselves then if either of us were present.

Sir here are some Gentlewomen that enquire for your self, or Mr. Driver.

It must be them.

Desire 'em to walk in.—

Do you tell 'em I am a little busie, but you'le go and ac­quaint me with it;—You shall find me in that Window.

So,—And now for the good Women,—But what to say to 'em, tell he that can, he must be better read in these books then I am.—

Lady's!—Your servant,—And had you not com­manded the contrary, I had sav'd you this trouble by waiting on you my self.

No Sir, 'tis our own business, and we thought least notice might be taken of it, by discoursing it here.

Yes indeed, 'twas all our opinions:—Only I must confess the Widow here would have preferr'd a little state, before convenience.

But since I was over-rul'd;—Pray Sir, Where's your Master.

I ll let him know you are here, and he'll wait on you presentlie.

I think this Gentleman would be able to do our busi­ness as well.

Yes truly,—He looks like a likely man.

However if Mr. Jocose were present too, 'twere no whit the worse.

Be pleas'd to repose your selves a while, and it will not be long 'ere my Master wait on you.

[Page 29]

Your Servant Sir.

Come Neighbours, I think it were not amiss if we agreed among our selves what we would have, before they come.

Now truly and indeed, 'twas well mov'd.

I like it well, pray begin.

Trust me not I,—but I'll do as good,—I'll put in now and then;—Pray Mrs. Godsgood.

However you mistook me, I mean it so;—pray Ma­dam,—No pray forsooth—will you?

Not I indeed,—how say you?—The Widow.—

The Widow,—the Widow.—

Then in obedience to your Commands,—And may this present meeting be happy and prosperous, to our selves and the whole Commonwealth of Women; and that we pro­pose those things that may be for the Common good and dignity of the Sex:—You cannot be ignorant how much your hus­bands have incroacht upon you, or (to speak truth) how much we have all lost, by letting the men ingross all business to them­selves, without so much as asking our advice, as if we (forsooth) were no part of them, and made to no other end, but to sit at home and prick our fingers.

I indeed,—a publick grievance.

The more's the pitty.

Pray Sisters,—Has not every pittiful Corporation it's Counsel, the meanest Parish it's Vestry, and our very Fumb­lers their Common Hall? And shall women only loose their pri­viledge? Shall we alone do nothing?

Had we no more wit then to be rul'd by our hus­bands, we shou'd n't,—but for all that we (now and then) do our parts, and sometimes too, more then comes to our shares.

Thank themselves, that wo'nt be quiet when 'tis well.

Pray no interruptions in the middle of a speech: There will be time enough for all.—Nor would I set up a new thing, only revive an antient and laudable (tho' somewhat [Page 30] antiquated) Custome.—I have heard of an old Emperor, somewhere or other, that ordain'd, That as he had his Counsel of men, so his wife, should have hers, of women, which should be in­dependent, and without appeal to 'tother.—

Marry away with him,—An old man!—What should we do with him?—And I have heard of a place too, where they hung up the men, after they come to threescore, as things past their labour, and consequently useless.—

Yet agen!—

No more of that good Sister, for if I mistake not the story, they were more severe upon us, and burnt us for Witches at Forty.—

Hey day!—Pray Sisters.

Peace,—Silence.

With all my heart;—No offence I hope.

None on my part I assure you.

More still!—This Councel, as I told you, (whether in jest or earnest it matters not) They call'd the Shee Senate, and this is that which our present interest should prick us for­ward to restore.—Nor let it be any rubb in the way, that Women are forbid to speak in Publique, that being meant of a Congregation of men, and I speak only of an Assembly of Wo­men,—for otherwise, if we were ever to hold our tongues, to what use were they given us? Those tongues, I say, that if they might, would speak sense as well as their own; and upon a good occasion, could be as loud—Think you (I warrant) they were given us to no other end, but to lick our teeth, and cheapen Eggs?—I think not,—and why should vve not use 'em then?—No doubt but vve may, and perhaps too, to as much purpose as the men; for could vve look into their Councels, 'tis ten to one but vve should find many things our selves vvould have been asham'd of.—How common is it with them to be five dayes in vvording the Question, and as many more e're they can put it right, and perhaps at last, make no­thing of it:—Whereas we, are plain down right, we think what we please, and speak what we think.—How does this Con­sultation [Page 31] thwart that, a third both, a fourth all, as if they met only to justifie the Proverb, So many men, so many mindes; Whereas we, if the reines were in our hands, if we did not ma­nage them better, I am sure it could not be worse.

Well open'd,—pray proceed.

I think this enough for Introduction;—The next thing I would have consider'd is, of what persons this Coun­cell should consist.

Of whom but women?

All that will,—what else?

That would be rather a Tumult than a Coun­cell.

And to select a few, and exclude the rest, would be—What d'ye call it?—The men have a hard word for't— Oli—Oli—Oligar,—fie upon't, I can't hit it,—Oile and Garlick I think they call't,—'tis either that, or somewhat neer it;—A very mark of tyrannie.

Pray no more interruptions,—If you do not like it referre it to another time;—And first, (if I might advise) I would have no maids of this councel.

No maids!—Why I pray? were you never one your self, or was it so long since, you have forgot it?

Pray give me leave,—I say no maids, because we may happen to speak that among our selves, that may not be fit for them to hear.

Goodly, goodly,—As if we could not tell how the Market went, tho'we neither bought nor sold in't.

Well said little Gentlewoman,—stand up for your Priviledge.

I warrant they are not so ill bred, but they know what's, what, as well as our selves;—How say you Mrs. Nancy, do not you know a pudding, from a Cart Wheel?

I think I do!

Did not I tell you so?

But how will you know, which are Maids, and which not;—Do not all go for Maids till they are mar­ried?

[Page 32]

And are not some afterwards?—What think you of those that have overgrown old fellows to their husbands?—may not they be call'd Maids, though perhaps much against their will?

However for honours sake we'll think 'em other­wise: But my meaning was, that none be received, but such as are, or have been marri'd.

Well distinguisht,—And yet perhaps it might be no hurt, if they sat behind the hangings, though they gave no voice;—'twould make [...]em the abler against they came to't themselves.

For that, as you please;—But pray no more interruptions:—The next, I would have none admitted that have been shod round:—And amongst them I would place such as are past fifty, who like old Garisons are fit for nothing but to be Lighted, and the rather too, to make roome for others.

And good reason,—pray on:

Then I would have none admitted, that had not first purg'd her self by her corporal Oath, that she had never made her Husband a Cuckold:—Unless she be very ugly, and that in such cases it be taken for granted, that she has not.

Now out upon't!

This Widow I see would make a very Tyrant.

Confess and be hang'd,—I am for none of't,

Nor I neither;—Here's a fetch with all my heart.—

At least you may qualifie it by Proviso, That if it be done to oblige a Gentleman, she may notwithstand­ing, &c.

That alters the case a little;—But I am clearly for throwing out both.

And so am I,—At least for laying the debate aside till a full house.

What you please,—I do but offer—Next, That if any discover the secrets of the house abroad, That such [Page 33] Person or Persons, have their tongues committed, to a three daies silence, without Bail or Mainprise.

Insufferable!

A tyrannie never heard of before!

Pray have patience,—Next, that none be permit­ted to speak irreverentlie of their Husbands, in as much, as be the men what they will, the Wifes honour, depends upon theirs, to traduce them, were, but in effect, to disgrace our selves.

Oh! Worse and worse.

Abominable, and not to be endur'd.

You see Sir

How hard your Widow's beset, I think 'twere not amiss if you reliev'd her.

And so I will,—She's better qualifi'd then I expected,—Follow me.—

Not speak irreventlie as you call it!—Do you think it reasonable, that my sham-leg'd Monsieur should say what he please of me, and I, nothing? Or fit (I woo's that he be ever rambling abroad, When (though I say it my self) I am as able a Woman, for the matter of the point of that, as any Wo­man in the two next Parishes;—And I must sit still and blow my nailes forsooth?

Or that mine should be perpetuallie abusing and striking me,—I am sure he has so pomell'd me about the Head, that I am hardly able, to bear a cup of drink, as they say:—For look you, d'ye see, when I am troubled, I go to the saluta­tion, with two or three neighbours, or so, and call for our Gills of sack a piece, (alas you know, it is not much) and then we sit and chat over it, and look yed'ye see, I am now and then troubled with a Rheume in my side, and go lame a little, and then when I come home, my Rogue saies I am drunk, and stink of Aquavitae; when alas, 'tis well known, 'tis meer grief, meer grief makes me in that condition;—Aa—you don't know this husband of mine—he were a very devil, but that he wears his horns,—And is this to be born think you.

[Page 34]

Hold a little,—not yet.—)

No by my troth is it not.—Come, come, serve him as I did mines;—He stroke me t'other day; and I set out my throat as loud as I could, that he had murdered me for what I had; and as the neighbours came in, I made 'em believe I was in a sowne, and held him so long in suspence, that from that day forward; I got the staff into mine own hand;—Ah my poor first husband, he was a man of a thousand, I could have made him believe the Cow was made of Wood,—But how d'ye think I brought him to't;—Even by complaining first, and pretending he did this and that in his drink, which he (good man) never thought of; and if ever he deny'd it, 'twas but bringing my maid to witness, and I was sure to be ask'd pardon.

I—here were a woman for the Chaire!—

Withal my heart.—

Then for the Quorum,—if two Women and a Goose make a Market, I see no reason, why three, may not make a Council, at least to determine, tho' not to hear?

I agree with you;—And truly I think so we should all;—But for this Widow,—She's insufferable!—Come neigh­bour Squeeze, I see we must be well advis'd, whom we trust the Chaire with,—She may in time betray our liberties.

Madam, Your servant,—me thought I heard you some­what hot,—could n't you agree?

No indeed Sir, Nor is it likely.

Truly I think 'twere not amiss if we intreated this Gentleman to take up the business.

You could not have thought better;—Pray Sir will you give your self a small trouble to oblige us.

Alas Madam 'tis too large a Parish for me; However I shall look upon your intreaty's as commands;—What may it be?

[Page 35]

Why thus an't please you.—

No, pray let me.

Hold,—suppose we walkt in; we should be less subject to disturbance,—Will't please you Madam,—

With all our hearts.

Call you me this Matrimony!—Help the good man say I, for I am sure they need it;—And yet certain there must be some little, I know not what in't, that I am ignorant of, or they would not be so hot upon't, That like bold Seamen, having scapt one Wrack, they dare yet venture on another:—What­ev'r it be, I envy it no man, bless him with it say I—I had ra­ther believe my share of it, then run the experiment;—For as far as I have ev'r observ'd, Between a quiet, and an unquiet Woman, there is only this difference, That he that has the first, rides an ambling horse to the Devil, and he that has the second a Trotter.—

Sir, Your Servant.

Honest Mr. Driver,—And how?—What news?—Ha 'you been as good as your Word?

Yes Sir,—here are some,—And you may take your choice.

Aa!—Mr. Driver,—You were ever my friend:—But prythee satisfie me by discoursing the reason of 'em, as why, some are more lucky in their hits, then others.—

You must know Sir, that inventions came by degrees, but have ever had this ill fortune, to be fatal to the first Inven­tors, who have only discover'd a new shore to shipwrack their persons on it, or bury their fortunes in it.

How shall we do then?

Well enough,—We have this advantage, that others have gone before us, and broke the ice to our hands;—How­ever we must not be so hasty as to expect all things should be [Page 36] done at once;—No,—Nature makes no leaps, and Invention which is the hand-maid of Nature, must but follow her, and take patern, from her.

Nay I grant ye, time perfects every thing; Nor can it be thought, that our invention should be so absolute, as that it were impossible to be improv'd.

You have hit the point, and learnedlie;—However for demonstration:—The Spade and Shovel were Primitive In­ventions, and from thence came the Plow;—In like manner from the Rake, the Harrow;—From the Pestle and Mortar all sort of Mills, vvhether Horizontal, or Plegnick; Horse, Hand, Wind, Water, or otherwise;—From the Wheel-barrow; Carts and Coaches;—From the scraping of a Hen, Letters;—From Pease-Hulls in the Kennel, the Invention of Shiping;—And from a Kites taile, the Rudders to 'um;—I should have men­tioned an other thing, vvhich how simple soever at first, 't has been since improv'd to a wonder.

As what good Sir?

Why thus—You know men originallie lapt Water like doggs, but finding that a little troublesome, They soop't from their hands;—from thence came Wooden dishes, thence earthen Pitchers, Thence Black-Jacks, thence Flagons, thence Kanns, thence Horns, thence Pewter cups, thence Glasses, and as an Eu­mechanick from the whole, Silver and gold Tankards.

I le be sworne thou hast cut out the buisness no­tablie.

Marry has he;—A shrewd fellow.—But hark you,—Have you remembred me?

Presentlie—I vvas just coming t' ye,—And shall only tell you by way of Prolegomena, That Inventions are of two sorts (to wit) either such as are destructive to humane Societie (as the Invention of vvalking invisible, and making Ships and Boats sail in the Aire, as well as on the Water, vvhich vve call Cacamechana) or such as are advantageous and useful; and of this kind, I think I can shevv you as much choice, as any man vvhatever he be.

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I must confess I am for those,—let's see.

I, I—Those, those.

You see Gentlemen, I am not shie to you, I dare trust you to peruse my papers!

Aa! Good Mr. Driver—What are these?

Let me see—most Excellent things!—You know Sir, we English men chiefly buzzle our heads about two things, That is to say, Religion, and Trade;—And truly you have luckily hit upon both,—The one, is a Project for a Divinitie-Mill, that shall go by any winde, and never stand still.

But of what use?

Marry—To grind Controversie, and that so fine, and subtile, it shall hardly be perceptible,—And I'll undertake, make more Proselites, than ever did Cha [...]cers Frier with his shoulder blade of the lost sheep.

Lay that by,—I'll fit you a Chapman.—[T'other.

Why—this—'Tis the height of Art!—An Emporentick In­vention, of making Cloth without Wool.

How's that?—Cloth without Wool;—Make me but that good, and Write your own Conditions.

With your favour Sir,—I was in before you—Pray go on—How is it to be done?

Why thus—I shall discover all.—

Not to your friend?—good Master Driver.

Then thus—You must gather the Atomes into a Glasse well ground, and then thred 'em upon a fine imperceptible Loome, and when they are once Wove, 'tis easie milling 'em to what consistence you please.

But how shall we do for this Loome?

Did you never hear of Uulcan [...] Net?—You must take Copy by that.

Cry y'mecrcie good Mr. Driver,—This shall be mine;—I have a Glass (as one would say) made for the purpose,—A most excellent Optick,—It shall make you an Atome shew as big as a Quarter Staffe.

Alas Sir the Thread will be too big, and fit for nothing [Page 38] but to Thrumme Coverlets; whereas my design in't was to alter the affairs of Christendome, by breaking the Spanish trade of fine Wool, and the Duch new manufactures.

I apprehend you,—The Price?

Why troth Sir it will not go, under five hundred pound and a quarter share.

No more,—I ll give thee a note to my Goldsmith—Honest Mr. Driver.

Here—here Mr. Driver,—What are these?

A rare invention for the sealing of Butter, without the charge of Butter Prints;—The same for Ginger-Bread.—

Go on—This!

This—A Whirligig for Dreining the Sea, for Treasure Trove:—But to this there belongs another—oh—I have it,—A devise to stop up the Rivers, that they shall n't run in, till the Work be over:—But this will be a work of time, and charge.

However, the profit will answer it.

Here are others would do as well, or better—You grasp at too great things.—An invention for the making Books sell at treble the rate they would have done otherwise.—

As how good Sir?—my brother shall be in for this.

By a fine new Title and Picture before it; or if that faile, getting 'um supprest, and somewhat else which I shall only tell the Bookseller himself.—A new Engine for the better sowing of Wheat, and setting of Leeks;—A Proposition for the Farming the Excize upon Jews-Trumps, and Town Tops.—

Not forgetting Nine-Pinns, and Shovel-Board Tables I beseech ye.

As how I pray—can that amount to any thing?

Almost incredible,—There's a great mistery in t,—for look you Sir; Do but consider how many more boyes, then men there are, and then make the conjecture—Where's this,—oh—Here—Be happy.—Here's an Invention will do thy Work:—Thou may'st ev'n shut up Shop, or do what thou wilt.

I can turn it over to another, which will be all one,—What is't?

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Why, 'tis a Project to incorporate the Gold-finders, and makes 'um turn Salt-Peeter-men; for besides that the materials will be exceeding cheap, the learned, upon experiment have found, it makes the best Gunpowder, by reason of its Nitrous qualitie, and the refuse, most incomparable soape; An Invention must necessarily destroy the trade of Pot-Ashes, and consequently bring all the Soap boilers in London under your girdle.

I'm satisfi [...]d,—Not a word to Sir Gudgeon;—Lets shake him off, and you and I'll drive the Bargain by our selves;—Pray Sir use me as kindly as you can, and I promise to consider you bet­ter as the Profits shall arise.

Well Sir I shall not press too hard upon a young beginner,—I hope you'l be as good as your Word.

If I am not.—

Here Sir,—If to morrow be any thing fair, I'll be­gin the experiment, and perhaps, make some small essay this night upon the Moon.

I know not what excellent qualitie your Glasse may have above others,—But if I might advise you, I would defer it to the Dog-daies.

The goodness of my Glass will supply a small defect,—I'll tell you what;—But you'll happily believe it,—I have discover'd with it a Flea in the Bears tail, and a Louse in Caput Algol—Anglice, Medusa's head,—Tis but trying—Come—I am out of patience till I set it on foot:—My service to your Master,—I cannot stay to talke with him now:—Farewel.

Your Servant Sir.