Wit at several weapons. (continued 2)

A lamentable case, he's got with a Mans Urine, like a Mandrake. How now? hah? What prodigious bravery's this? A most preposterous Gallant, the Doublet sits As if it mock't the breeches. Clow. Save you, Sir. Cun. H'as put his tongue in the fine suit of words too. Clow. How does the party? Cun. Takes me for a Scrivener. Which of the parties? Clow. Hum, simplicity betide thee— I would fain hear of the party; I would be loath to go Farther with her; honor is not a thing to be dallied withall, No more is reputation, no nor fame, I take it, I must not Have her wrong'd when I'm abroad; my party is not To be compell'd with any party in an oblique way; 'Tis very dangerous to deal with Women; May prove a Lady too, but shall be nameless, I'll bite my tongue out, e'er it prove a Traitor. Cun. Upon my life I know her. Clow. Not by me, Know what you can, talk a whole day with me, Y'are ne'er the wiser, she comes not from these lips. Cun. The old Knights Neece. Clow. 'Slid he has got her, pox of his heart that told him, Can nothing be kept secret? let me entreat you To use her name as little as you can, though. Cun. 'Twill be small pleasure, Sir, to use her name. Clow. I had intelligence in my solemn walks, 'Twixt Paddington and Pancridge, of a Scarfe, Sent for a token, and a Jewel follow'd, But I acknowledge not the receipt of any, How e'er 'tis carried, believe me, Sir, Upon my reputation I receiv'd none. Cun. What, neither Scarfe nor Jewel? Clow. 'Twould be seen Some where about me, you may well think that, I have an arme for a Scarfe, as others have, An Ear, to hang a Jewel too, and that's more Then some men have, my betters a great deal, I must have restitution, where e'er it lights. Cun. And reason good. Clow. For all these tokens, Sir, Pass i' my name. Cun. It cannot otherwise be. Clow. Sent to a worthy friend. Cun. I, that's to thee. Clow. I'm wrong'd under that title. Cun. I dare sware thou art, 'Tis nothing but Sir Gregories circumvention, His envious spite, when thou'rt at Paddington, He meets the gifts at Pancridge. Clow. Ah false Knight? False both to honor, and the Law of Arms? Cun. What wilt thou say if I be reveng'd for thee? Thou sit as Witness? Clow. I should laugh in state then. Cun. I'll fob him, here's my hand.

Neece. Is't possible? Sir Greg. Nay, here's his Letter too, there's a fine Jewel in't, Therefore I brought it to you. Neece. You tedious Mongril! Is't not enough To grace thee, to receive this from thy hand, A thing which makes me almost sick to do, But you must talk too? Sir Greg. I ha' done. Neece. Fall back, Yet backer, backer yet, you unmannerly puppy, Do you not see I'm going about to read it? Sir Greg. Nay, these are golden dayes, now I stay by't, She was wont not to endure me in her sight at all, The World mends, I see that. Neece. What an ambiguous Superscription's here! To the best of Neeces. Why that title may be mine, And more than her's: Sure I much wrong the neatness of his art; 'Tis certain sent to me, and to requite My cunning in the carriage of my Tokens, Us'd the same Fop for his. Sir Greg. She nodded now to me, 'twill come in time. Neece. What's here? an entire Rubye, cut into a heart, And this the word, Istud Amoris opus? Sir Greg. Yes, yes, I have heard him say, that love is the best stone-cutter. Neece. Why thou sawcy issue of some travelling Sow-gelder, What makes love in thy mouth? Is it a thing That ever will concern thee? I do wonder How thou dar'st think on't! hast thou ever hope To come i' the same roome where lovers are; And scape unbrain'd with one of their velvet slippers? Sir Greg. Love tricks break out I see, and you talk of slippers once, 'Tis not far off to bed time. Neece. Is it possible thou canst laugh yet? I would ha' undertook to ha' kill'd a spider With less venome far, than I have spit at thee. Sir Greg. You must conceive, A Knight's another manner a piece of flesh. Neece. Back, Owles-face. Within. O. K. Do, do. Neece. 'Tis my Unckles voice, that. Why keep you so far off, Sir Gregory? Are you afraid, Sir, to come near your Mistriss? Sir Greg. Is the proud heart come down? I lookt for this still. Neece. He comes not this way yet: Away, you dog-whelp, Would you offer to come near me, though I said so? I'll make you understand my mind in time; [Your running] greedily, like a hound to his breakfast, That chops in head and all to beguile his fellows; I'm to be eaten, Sir, with Grace and leisure, Behaviour and discourse, things that ne'er trouble you; After I have pelted you sufficiently, I tro you will learn more manners. Sir Greg. I'm wondring still when we two shall come together? Tuesday's at hand, but I'm as far off, as I was at first, I swear.

Gard. Now Cuningame, I'll be reveng'd at large: Lady, what was but all this while suspition, Is truth, full blown now, my Neece wears your Scarfe. Neece. Hah? Gard. Do but follow me, I'll place you instantly Where you shall see her courted by Cuningame. Neece. I go with greediness; we long for things That break our hearts sometimes, there's pleasures misery,

Sir Greg. Where are those gad-flies going? to some Junket now; That some old bumble-bee toles the young one forth To sweet meats after kind, let 'em look to't, The thing you wot on be not mist or gone, I bring a Maiden-head, and I look for one. Which is only a Puppet so drest. [Exit.

Cun. Yes, yes. Neece. Too manifest now, the Scarfe and all. Cun. It cannot be, you're such a fearful soul. Neece. I'll give her cause of fear e'er I part from her. Cun. Will you say so? Is't not your Aunts desire too? Neece. What a dissembling croane's that! she'l forswear't now. Cun. I see my project takes, yonder's the grace on't. Neece. Who would put confidence in wit again, I'm plagu'd for my ambition, to desire A wise Man for a husband, and I see Fate will not have us go beyond our stint, We are allow'd but one dish, and that's Woodcock, It keeps up wit to make us friends and servants of, And thinks any thing's good enough to make us husbands; Oh that Whores hat o' thine, o' the riding block, A shade for lecherous kisses. Cun. Make you doubt on't? Is not my love of force? Neece. Yes, me it forces To tear that sorcerous strumpet from th' imbraces. Cun. Lady? Neece. Oh thou hast wrong'd the exquisit'st love— Cun. What mean you, Lady? Neece. Mine, you'l answer for't. Cun. Alas, What seek you? Neece. Sir, mine own with loss. Cun. You shall. Neece. I never made so hard a bargain. Cun. Sweet Lady? Neece. Unjust man, let my wrath reach her, As you owe virtue duty; [Cun. falls on purpose. Your cause trips you, Now Minion, you shall feel what loves rage is, Before you taste the pleasure; smile you false, Sir? Cun. How can I chuse? to see what pains you take, Upon a thing will never thank you for't. Neece. How? Cun. See what things you women be, Lady, When cloaths are taken for the best part of you? This was to show you, when you think I love you not, How y'are deceiv'd still, there the Moral lies, 'Twas a trap set to catch you, and the only bait To take a Lady nibling, is fine clothes; Now I dare boldly thank you for your love, I'm pretty well resolv'd in't by this fit, For a jealous ague alwayes ushers it. Neece. Now blessings still maintain this wit of thine, And I have an excellent fortune coming in thee, Bring nothing else I charge thee. Cun. Not a groat I warrant ye. Neece. Thou shalt be worthily welcome, take my faith for't, Next opportunity shall make us. Cu[n]. The old Gentlewoman has fool'd her revenge sweetly. Neece. 'Lass, 'tis her part, she knows her place so well yonder; Alwayes when Women jumpe upon threescore, Love shoves e'm from the chamber to the door. Cun. Thou art a precious she-wit. [Exeunt.

Cun. Friend, met in the harvest of our designs, Not a thought but's busie. Wit. I knew it Man, And that made me provide these needful Reapers, Hooks, Rakers, Gleaners; we'll sing it home With a melodious Horne-pipe; this is the Bond, That as we further in your great affair, You'l suffer us to glean, pick up for crums, And if we snatch a handful from the sheaf, You will not look a churle on's. Cun. Friend, we'll share The sheaves of gold, only the Love Aker Shall be peculiar. Wit. Much good do you, Sir, Away, you know your way, and your stay; get you The Musick ready, while we prepare the dancers. Ruin. We are a consort of our selves. Pris. And can strike up lustily. Wit. You must bring Sir Fop. Cun. That's perfect enough. Ruin. Bring all the Fops you can, the more, the better fare So the proverb runs backwards. [Exeunt Ruin. and Pris. L. Ruin. I'll bring the Ladies. [Exit. Wit. Do so first, and then the Fops will follow; I must to my Father, he must make one. [Exit.

Cun. While I dispatch a business with the Knight, And I go with you. Well sed, I thank you, This small Banquet will furnish our few Guests With taste and state enough; one reach my Gown. The action craves it rather than the weather. 1 Serv. There's one stayes to speak with you, Sir. Cun. What is he? 1 Serv. Faith I know not what, Sir, a Fool, I think, That some Brokers shop has made half a Gentleman; Has the name of a Worthy too. Cun. Pompey? Is't not? 1 Ser. That's he, Sir. Cun. Alas, poor fellow, prethee enter him, he will need too.

He shall serve for a Witness. Oh Gramercy: If my friend Sir Gregory comes, you know him,

Entertain him kindly. Oh Master Pompey, How is't man? Clow. 'Snails, I'm almost starv'd with Love, and cold, and one thing or other; Has not my Lady sent for me yet? Cun. Not that I hear, sure some unfriendly Messenger Is imploy'd betwixt you.

Clow. Well, I'll ne'er pass my word without my deed to A Lady, while I live agen, I would fain recover my taste.

Clow. I warrant you, Sir, I have two ears to one mouth, I hear more than I eat, I'de ne'er row by Queen Hive While I liv'd else. Cun. I have a Wife for him, and thou shalt witness the Contract. Clow. The old one I hope, 'tis not the Lady? Cun. Choak him first, 'tis one which thou shalt see, See him, see him deceiv'd, see the deceit, only The injunction is, you shall smile with modesty. Clow. I'll simper I'faith, as cold as I am yet, the old one I hope.

Serv. Sir, here's Sir Gregory. Cun. U'd so, shelter, shelter, if you be seen, All's ravell'd out again; stand there private, And you'll find the very opportunity To call you forth, and place you at the Table.

You are welcome, Sir, this Banquet will serve, When it is crown'd with such a dainty as you Expect, and must have. Sir Greg. 'Tush, these sweet-meats are but sauce to that, Well, if there be any honesty, or true word in a dream, She's mine own, nay, and chang'd extreamly, Not the same Woman. Cun. Who, not the Lady? Sir Greg. No, not to me, the edge of her tongue is taken off, Gives me very good words, turn'd up-side-down to me, And we live as quietly as two Tortoises, if she hold on, As she began in my dream. [Soft Musick. Cun. Nay, if Love send forth such Predictions, You are bound to believe 'em, there's the watch-word Of her coming; to your practis'd part now, If you hit it, Æquus Cupido nobis. [Both go into the Gown. Sir Greg. I will warrant you, Sir, I will give armes to Your Gentry, look you forward to your business, I am an eye behind you, place her in that Chair, And let me alone to grope her out.

Cun. Silence, Lady, your sweet presence illustrates This homely roof, and, as course entertainment; But where affections are both Host and Guest, They cannot meet unkindly; please you sit, Your something long stay made me unmannerly, To place before you, you know this friend here, He's my Guest, and more especially, That this our meeting might not be too single, Without a witness to't. Mirab. I came not unresolv'd, Sir, And when our hands are clasp'd in that firm faith Which I expect from you; fame shall be bold To speak the loudest on't: oh you grasp me Somewhat too hard friend. Cun. That's Love's eager will, I'll touch it gentlier. [Kisses her hand. Mirab. That's too low in you, Less it be doubly recompenc'd in me. [She kisses his hand. Clow. Puh, I must stop my mouth, I shall be choakt else. Cun. Come, we'll not play and trifle with delayes, We met to joyn these hands, and willingly I cannot leave it till confirmation. Mirab. One word first, how does your friend, kind Sir Gregory? Cun. Why do you mention him? you love him not? Mir. I shall love you the less if you say so, Sir, In troth I love him, but 'tis you deceive him, This flattering hand of yours does rob him now, Now you steal his right from him, and I know I shall have hate for't, his hate extreamly. Cun. Why I thought you had not come so weakly arm'd, Upon my life the Knight will love you for't, Exceedingly love you, for ever love you. Mir. I, you'll perswade me so. Cun. Why he's my friend, And wishes me a fortune equal with him, I know, and dare speak it for him. Mir. Oh, this hand betrayes him, you might remember him in some courtesie yet at least. Cun. I thank your help in't, here's to his health Where e'er he be. Mir. I'll pledge it, were it against my health.

Cun. Well, now to close our meeting, with the close Of mutual hands and hearts, thus I begin, Here in Heavens eye, and all loves sacred powers, (Which in my Prayers stand propitious) I knit this holy hand fast, and with this hand The heart that owes this hand, ever binding By force of this initiating Contract Both heart and hand in love, faith, loyalty, Estate, or what to them belongs, in all the dues, Rights and honors of a faithful husband, And this firm vow, henceforth till death, to stand Irrevocable, seal'd both with heart and hand. Mir. Which thus I second, but oh, Sir Gregory. Cun. Agen? this interposition's ill, believe me. Mir. Here, in Heavens eye, and all Loves sacred powers, I knit this holy hand fast, and with this hand The heart that owes this hand, ever binding Both heart and hand in love, honor, loyalty, Estate, or what to them belongs in all the dues, Rights, and duties of a true faithful Wife; And this firm Vow, henceforth till death, to stand, Irrevocable, seal'd both with heart and hand. Sir Greg. A full agreement on both parts. Cun. I, here's witness of that. Sir Greg. Nay, I have over-reacht you Lady, and that's much, For any Knight in England to over-reach a Lady. Mir. I rejoyce in my deceit, I am a Lady Now, I thank you, Sir. Clow. Good morrow Lady Fop. Sir Greg. 'Snails, I'm gull'd, made a worshipful ass, this is not my Lady. Cun. But it is Sir, and true as your dream told you, That your Lady was become another Woman.

Cun. So you may pray for me, and honor me, That have preserv'd you from a lasting torment, For a perpetual comfort; Did you call me friend? Sir Greg. I pray pardon me for that, I did miscall you, I confess. Cun. And should I, receiving such a thankful name, Abuse it in the act? Should I see my friend Bafled, disgrac'd, without any reverence To your title, to be call'd slave, rascal? Nay curst to your face, fool'd, scorn'd, beaten down With a womans peevish hate, yet I should stand And suffer you to be lost, cast away? I would have seen you buried quick first, Your spurs of Knighthood to have wanted rowels, And to be kickt from your heels; slave, rascall? Hear this Tongue? Mir. My dearest Love, sweet Knight, my Lord, my Husband. Cun. So, this is not slave, and rascall then. Mir. What shall your eye command, but shall be done, In all the duties of a loyal Wife? Cun. Good, good, are not curses fitter for you? wer't not better Your head were broke with the handle of a fan, Or your nose bor'd with a silver bodkin? Mir. Why, I will be a servant in your Lady. Cun. 'Pox, but you shall not, she's too good for you, This contract shall be a nullity, I'll break't off, And see you better bestow'd.

Cun. If you be content— Sir Greg. Content? I was never in better contention in my life. I'll not change her for both the Exchanges, New or the Old; Come, kiss me boldly. Clow. Give you joy, Sir.

Cun. Nay, no dissention here, I must bar that, And this (friend) I entreat you, and be advis'd, Let this private contract be yet conceal'd, And still support a seeming face of love Unto the Lady; mark how it availes you, And quits all her scorns, her Unckle is now hot In pursuit of the match, and will enforce her, Bend her proud stomach, that she shall proffer Her self to you, which when you have flouted, And laught your fill at, you shall scorn her off, With all your disgraces trebled upon her, For there the pride of all her heart will bow, When you shall foot her from you, not she you.

Witty. Friend. Cun. Here friend. Witty. All's afoot, and will goe smooth away, The woman has conquer'd the women, they are gone, Which I have already complain'd to my Father, Suggesting that Sir Gregory is fall'n off From his charge, for neglects and ill usage, And that he is most violently bent On Gentries wife (whom I have call'd a widow) And that without most sudden prevention He will be married to her. Cun. [Fool, all] this is wrong, This wings his pursuit, and will be before me; I am lost for ever. Witty. No, stay, you shall not go But with my Father, on my wit let it lie, You shall appear a friendly assistant, To help in all affairs, and in execution Help your self only. Cun. Would my belief Were strong in this assurance. Witty. You shall credit it, And my wit shall be your slave, if it deceive you.

My Father—

Witty. Shall I stand to tell't agen? I tell you he loves, But not my Kinswoman, her base usage, And your slack performance which he accuses most Indeed, has turn'd the Knights heart upside down. Old K. I'll curb her for't, can he be but recover'd, He shall have her, and she shall be dutiful, And love him as a Wife too. Witty. With that condition, Sir, I dare recall him [were] he enter'd the Church, So much interest of love I assure in him. Old K. Sir, it shall be no loss to you if you do. Witty. I, but these are words still, will not the deeds Be wanting at the recovery, if it should be agen? O[l]d K. Why here fool, I am provided, five hunder'd in earnest, Of the thousands in her Dower, but were they married once, I'd cut him short enough, that's my agreement. Witty. I, now I perceive some purpose in you, Father. Old K. But wherefore is she then stol'n out of doors to him?

Cun. I did Sir, and to her shame I should speak it, To my own sorrow I saw it, dalliance, Nay, dotage with a very Clown, a Fool. Old K. Wit and wantons? nothing else? nothing else? She love a fool? she'll sooner make a Fool Of a wise man. Cun. I, my friend complains so, Sir Gregory says flatly, she makes a fool of him, And these bold circumstances are approv'd: Favours have been sent by him, yet he ignorant Whither to carry 'em; they have been understood, And taken from him, certain, Sir, there is An unsuspected fellow lies conceal'd, What, or where e'er he is, these slight neglects Could not be of a Knight else. Old K. Well Sir, you have promis'd (if we recover him Unmarried) to salve all these old bruises? Cun. I'll do my best, Sir. Old K. I shall thank you, costly Sir, and kindly too. Witty. Will you talk away the time here, Sir, and come behind all your purposes? Old K. Away good Sir. Witty. Then stay a little, good Sir, for my advice, Why, Father are you broke? your wit beggar'd, Or are you at your wits end? or out of Love with wit? no trick of wit to surprize Those designs, but with open Hue and Cry, For all the world to talk on, this is strange, You were not wont to slubber a project so. Old K. Can you help at a pinch now? shew your self My Son, go too, I leave this to your wit, Because I'll make a proof on't. Witty. 'Tis thus then, I have had late intelligence, they are now Bucksom as Bacchus Froes, revelling, dancing, Telling the Musicks numbers with their feet, Awaiting the meeting of p[re]monish'd friends, That's questionless, little dreading you, Now Sir, with a dexterous trick indeed, suddain And sufficient were well, to enter on um As something like the abstract of a Masque; What though few persons? if best for our purpose That commends the project. Old K. This takes up time. Witty. Not at all, I can presently furnish With loose disguises that shall fit that Scene. Old K. Why what wants then? Witty. Nothing but charge of Musick, That must be paid, you know. Old K. That shall be my charges, I'll pay the Musick. What e'er it cost. Witty. And that shall be all your charge, Now on, I like it, there will be wit in't Father.

Cun. I will neither distrust his wit nor friendship, Yet if his Master brain should be o'er-thrown My resolution now shall seize mine own. [Exit.

L. Rui. Nay, let's have Musick, let that sweet breath at least Give us her airy welcome, 'twill be the best I fear this ruin'd receptacle will yield, But that most freely. Nee. My welcome follows me, Else I am ill, come hither, you assure me Still Mr. Cuningame will be here, and that it was His kind entreaty that wish'd me meet him. L. Ruin. Else let me be that shame unto my Sex, That all belief may flie um. Nee. Continue still The Knights name unto my Guardianess, She expects no other. [L]. Ruin. He will, he will, assure you Lady, Sir Gregory will be here, and suddainly This Musick fore-ran him, is't not so consorts? Ruin. Yes Lady, he stays on some device to bring along Such a labour he was busie in, some witty device. Nee. 'T[w]ill be long e'r he comes then, for wits a great Labour to him. Guard. Well, well, you'll agree better one day. Nee. Scarce two I think. Guard. Such a mock-beggar suit of cloaths as led me Into the fools pair-of-Dice, with Dewze Ace, He that would make me Mistriss Cun, Cun, Cunnie, He's quite out of my mind, but I shall ne'er Forget him, while I have a hole in my head; Such a one I think would please you better, Though he did abuse you. Ruin. Fye, speak well of him now, Your Neece has quitted him. Guard. I hope she has, Else she loses me for ever; but for Sir Gregory. Would he were come, I shall ill answer this Unto your Uncle else. Nee. You know 'tis his pleasure I should keep him company. Guard. I, and should be your own If you did well too: Lord, I do wonder At the niceness of you Ladies now a days, They must have Husbands with so much wit forsooth. Worship and wealth were both wont to be In better request I'm sure, I cannot tell, But they get ne'er the wiser children that I see. La. Ruin. La, la, la, la, Sol, this Musick breaths in vain; Methinks 'tis dull to let it move alone, Let's have a female motion, 'tis in private, And we'll grace't our selves, however it deserves. Nee. What say you Guardianess? Guard. 'Las I'm weary with the walk, My jaunting days are done. L. Ru. Come, come, we'll fetch her in by course, or else She shall pay the Musick. Guard. Nay, I'll have a little for my money then.

L. Ru. Hark! upon my life the Knight; 'tis your friend, This was the warning-piece of his approach.

L. Ru. Ha? no words but mum? well then, We shall need no counsel-keeping. Nee. Cuningam? Cun. Yes, fear nothing. Nee. Fear? why do you tell me of it? Cun. Your Uncles here. Nee. Aye me. Cun. Peace. Old K. We have caught 'em. Witty. Thank my wit Father. Guard. Which is the Knight think you? Nee. I know not, he will be found when he speaks, No Masque can disguise his tongue. Witty. Are you charg'd? Old K. Are you awake? Witty. I'm answer'd in a question. Cun. Next change we meet, we lose our hands no more. Nee. Are you prepar'd to tye 'em? Cun. Yes, You must go with me. Guard. Whither Sir? not from my charge believe me. Cun. She goes along. Nee. Will you venture and my Uncle here? Cun. His stay's prepar'd for. Guard. 'Tis the Knight sure, I'll follow.

Old K. How now, the Musick tir'd before us? Ruin. Yes Sir, we must be paid now. Witty. Oh that's my charge, Father. Old K. But stay, where are our wanton Ladies gone? Son, where are they? Witty. Only chang'd the room in a change, that's all sure. Old K. I'll make 'em all sure else, and then return to you. Ruin. You must pay for your Musick first, Sir. Old K. Must? are there musty Fidlers? are Beggars choosers now? Ha! why Witty-pate, Son, where am I? Witty. You were dancing e'en now, in good measure, Sir, Is your health miscarried since? what ail you, Sir? Old K. Death, I may be gull'd to my face, where's my Neece? What are you? L. Ru. None of your Neece, Sir. Old K. How now? have you loud instruments too? I'll hear No more, I thank you; what have I done to To bring these fears about me? Son, where am I? Witty. Not where you should be, Sir, you [should] be paying For your Musick, and you are in a maze. Old K. Oh, is't so, put up, put up, I pray you, Here's a crown for you. L. Ruin. Pish, a crown? Ruin. Pris. Ha, ha, ha, a crown? Old K. Which way do you laugh? I have seen a crown Has made a Consort laugh heartily. Witty. Father, To tell you truth, these are no ordinary Musicians, they expect a bounty Above their punctual desert. Old K. A —— on your Punks, and their deserts too. Am I not cheated all this while think you? Is not your pate in this? Witty. If you be cheated, You are not to be indicted for your own goods, Here you trifle time to market your bounty And make it base, when it must needs be free For ought I can perceive. Old K. Will you know the lowest price, Sir? Witty. That I will Sir, with all my heart. Old K. Unless I was discover'd, and they now fled Home agen for fear, I am absolutely beguil'd, That's the best can be hop'd for. Witty. Faith 'tis somewhat too dear yet, Gentlemen. Ruin. There's not a Denier to be bated, Sir. Old K. Now Sir, how dear is it? Witty. Bate but the t'other ten pound? Pris. Not a Bawbee, Sir. Old K. How? bate ten pound? what's the whole sum then? Witty. Faith Sir, a hundred pound, with much adoe, I got fifty bated, and faith Father, to say truth, 'Tis reasonable for men of their fashion. Old K. La, la, la, down, a hunder'd pound? la, la, la, You are a Consort of Thieves, are you not? Witty. No Musicians, Sir, I told you before. Old K. Fiddle faddle, is it not a robbery? a plain robbery. Witty. No, no, no, by no means Father, you have receiv'd For your money, nay and that you cannot give back, 'Tis somewhat dear I confess, but who can help it? If they had been agreed with before-hand, 'Twas ill forgotten. Old [K]. And how many shares have you in this? I see my force, Case up your instruments, I yield, here, as robb'd and Taken from me, I deliver it. Witty. No Sir, you have perform'd your promise now, Which was, to pay the charge of Musick, that's all. Old K. I have heard no Musick, I have receiv'd none, Sir, There's none to be found in me, nor about me. Witty. Why Sir, here's witness against you, you have danc'd, And he that dances, acknowledges a receipt of Musick. Old K. I denie that, Sir, look you, I can dance without Musick, do you see, Sir? and I can sing without it too; you are a Consort of Thieves, do you hear what I do? Witty. Pray you take heed, Sir, if you do move the Musick agen, it may cost you as much more. Old K. Hold, hold, I'll depart quietly, I need not bid you farewel, I think now, so long as that hundred [pound] lasts with you.

Ha, ha, am I snapt i'faith? Guar. Oh, Sir, Perfidious. Old K. I, I, some howling another while, Musick's too damnable dear. Guard. Oh Sir, my heart-strings are broke, if I can but live to tell you the tale, I care not, your Neece my charge is— Old K. What, is she sick? Guard. No, no Sir, she's lustily well married. Old K. To whom? Guard. Oh, to that cunning dissembler, Cuningam. Old K. I'll hang the Priest, first, what was he? Guard. Your kinsman, Sir, that has the Welch Benefice. Old K. I sav'd him from the Gallows to that end, good: is there any more? Guard. And Sir Gregory is married too. Old K. To my Neece too, I hope, and then I may hang her. Guard. No Sir, to my Neece, thank Cupid; and that's all that's likely to recover me, she's Lady Fop now, and I am One of her Aunts, I thank my promotion.

Cred. I have perform'd your be[he]st, Sir. Old K. What have you perform'd, Sir? Witty. Faith Sir I must excuse my Cosin in this act, If you can excuse your self for making him A Priest, there's the most difficult answer. I put this practise on him, as from your desire, A truth, a truth, Father.

Old K. Good'en to you, good Mr. Cosin Cuningam, And your fair Bride, my Cosin Cuningam too, And how do you Sir Gregory, with your fair Lady?

Nee. How spightful are you now, Sir Gregory! Why look you, I can love my dearest Husband, With all the honors, duties, sweet embraces, That can be thrown upon a loving man.

Nee. Let me come to him, and instead of love Let me have revenge. Witty. Pray you now, will you first examine, whether he be guilty or no. Nee. He cannot be excus'd, How many Messengers (thou perjur'd man) Hast thou return'd with Vows and Oaths, that thou Wouldst follow, and never till this unhappy hour Could I set eye of thee, since thy false eye Drew my heart to it? oh I could tear thee now, Instead of soft embraces, pray give me leave—

Nee. Did not I send thee Scarfs and Diamonds? And thou return'dst me Letters, one with a false heart in't.

Witty. Nay, nay, protest no more, I do believe you, But you see how the Lady is wrong'd by't; She has cast away her self, it is to be fear'd, Against her Uncles Will, nay, any consent, But out of a mere neglect, and spight to her self, Married suddainly without any advice.

Cun. We have agreed it sweetest, And find your Uncle fully recover'd, kind to both of us. Witty. To all the rest I hope. Old K. Never to thee, nor thee, easie cosin Credulous, Was your wit so raw? Cred. Faith yours Sir, so long season'd Has been faulty too, and very much to blame, Speaking it with reverence, Uncle.

Old K. Why this was the day I look'd for, thou shalt have't, And the next cheat makes it up three hundr'd; Live thou upon thy ten pound Vicarage, Thou get'st not a penny more, here's thy full Hire now. Cred. I thank you, Sir. Witty. Why there was the sum of all my Wit, Father, To shuve him out of your favour, which I fear'd Would have disinherited me. Old K. Most certain it had, Had not thy wit recover'd it; is there any here That had a hand with thee? Witty. Yes, all these, Sir. Old K. Nephew, part a hundr'd pound amongst 'em, I'll repay it; wealth, love me as I love wit; When I die, I'll build an Alms-house for decay'd wits.

Witty. Something will be in my present power, the future more, You shall share with me. Ruin and Wife. Thanks worthy Gentlemen. Nee. Sir, I would beg one thing of you. Sir Gr. You can beg nothing of me. Witty. Oh Sir, if she begs, there's your power over her. Sir Gr. She has begg'd me for a fool already, but 'tis no matter. I have begg'd her for a Lady, that she might have been, That's one for another.

Old K. Come, come, down with all weapons now, 'tis Musick time, So it be purchas'd at an easie rate; Some have receiv'd the knocks, some giv'n the hits, And all concludes in love, there's happy wits. [Exeunt.

We need not tell you Gallants, that this night The Wits have jumpt, or that the Scenes hit right 'Twould be but labor lost for to excuse What Fletcher had to do in: his brisk Muse Was so Mercurial, that if he but writ An Act, or two, the whole Play rose up wit. We'll not appeal unto those Gentlemen Judge by their Cloaths, if they sit right, nor when The Ladies smile, and with their Fanns delight To whisk a clinch aside, then all goes right: 'Twas well receiv'd before, and we dare say, You now are welcome to no vulgar Play.