part 4

), at a marriage, and leading the Graces in a dance at Whitehall, worthy to be envied of the Queen (6), in which Cupid had a part (2, 3, 5), at which Charis kissed him (6, 7), and afterwards kept up a close intimacy with him (8, 9, 10). The mask of 1608, Feb. 9, exactly fulfils these conditions, and the Venus of that mask was probably L. Elizabeth Hatton, the most beautiful of the then court ladies. She had appeared in the mask of Beauty, 1608, Jan. 10, but in no other year traceable by me. From the Elegy, G. 36, manifestly written to the same lady (compare it with the lines in 5 as to “the bank of kisses” and “the bath of milk and roses”), we learn that Charis had “a husband that is the just excuse of all that can be done him”. This was her second husband, Sir Edward Coke, to whom she was married in 1593’.

Fleay’s theory rests chiefly upon (1) his interpretation of _The Celebration of Claris_; (2) the identity of Charis and Mrs. Fitzdottrel. A study of the poem has led me to conclusions of a very different nature from those of Fleay. They may be stated as follows:

_Charis_ 1. This was evidently written in 1622-3. Jonson plainly says: ‘Though I now write fifty years’. Charis is here seemingly identified with Lady Purbeck, daughter of Lady Hatton. Compare the last two lines with the passage from _The Gipsies_. Fleay believes the compliments were transferred in the masque at Lady Hatton’s request.

_Charis_ 4 and 7 have every mark of being insertions. (1) They are in different metres from each other and from the other sections, which in this respect are uniform. (2) They are not in harmony with the rest of the poem. They entirely lack the easy, familiar, half jocular style which characterizes the eight other parts. (3) Each is a somewhat ambitious effort, complete in itself, and distinctly lyrical. (4) In neither is there any mention of or reference to Charis. (5) It is evident, therefore, that they were not written for the _Charis_ poem, but merely interpolated. They are, then, of all the parts the least valuable for the purpose of identification, nor are we justified in looking upon them as continuing a definite narrative with the rest of the poem. (6) The evident reason for introducing them is their own intrinsic lyrical merit.

_Charis_ 4 was apparently written in praise of some pageant, probably a court masque. The representation of Venus drawn in a chariot by swans and doves, the birds sacred to her, may have been common enough. That this is an accurate description of the masque of February 9, 1608 is, however, a striking fact, and it is possible that the lady referred to is the same who represented Venus in that masque. But (1) we do not even know that Jonson refers to a masque of his own, or a masque at all. (2) We have no trustworthy evidence that Lady Hatton was the Venus of that masque. Fleay’s identification is little better than a guess. (3) Evidence is derived from the first stanza alone. This does not appear in _The Devil is an Ass_, and probably was not written at the time. Otherwise there is no reason for its omission in that place. It seems to have been added for the purpose of connecting the lyric interpolation with the rest of the poem.

_Charis_ 5 seems to be a late production. (1) Jonson combines in this single section a large number of figures used in other places. (2) That it was not the origin of these figures seems to be intimated by the words of the poem. Cupid is talking. He had lately found Jonson describing his lady, and Jonson’s words, he says, are descriptive of Cupid’s own mother, Venus. So Homer had spoken of her hair, so Anacreon of her face. He continues:

By her looks I do her know _Which you call_ my shafts.

The italicized words may refer to _U. 36._ 3-4. They correspond, however, much more closely to _Challenge_, _2 Cup._ The ‘bath your verse discloses’ (l. 21) may refer to _DA._ 2. 6. 82-3. _U. 36._ 7-8 or _Gipsies_ 15-6.

... the bank of kisses, Where _you say_ men gather blisses

is mentioned in _U. 36._ 9-10. ‘The passages in _DA._ and _Gipsies_[92] are less close. The ‘valley _called_ my nest’ may be a reference to _DA._ 2. 6. 74 f. Jonson had already spoken of the ‘girdle ’bout her waist’ in _Challenge_, _2 Cup._ _Charis_ 5 seems then to have been written later than _U. 36_, _Challenge_, 1613, and probably _Devil is an Ass_, 1616. The evidence is strong, though not conclusive.

_Charis_ 6 evidently refers to a marriage at Whitehall. That Cupid, who is referred to in 2, 3, 5, had any part in the marriage of _Charis_ 6 is nowhere even intimated. That Charis led the Graces in a dance is a conjecture equally unfounded. Jonson of course takes the obvious opportunity (ll. 20, 26) of playing on the name Charis. That this occasion was the same as that celebrated in 4 we have no reason to believe. It applies equally well, for instance, to _A Challenge at Tilt_, but we are by no means justified in so limiting it. It may have been imaginary.

_Charis_ 7 was written before 1618, since Jonson quoted a part of it to Drummond during his visit in Scotland (cf. _Conversations_ 5). It was a favorite of the poet’s and this furnishes sufficient reason for its insertion here. It is worthy of note that the two sections of _Charis_, which we know by external proof to have been in existence before 1623, are those which give internal evidence of being interpolations.

_Summary._ The poem was probably a late production and of composite nature. There is no reason for supposing that the greater part was not written in 1622-3. The fourth and seventh parts are interpolations. The first stanza of the fourth part, upon which the identification largely rests, seems not to have been written until the poem was put together in 1622-3. If it was written at the same time as the other two stanzas, we cannot expect to find it forming part of a connected narrative. The events described in the fourth and sixth parts are not necessarily the same. There is practically no evidence that Lady Hatton was the Venus of 1608, or that _Charis_ is addressed to any particular lady.

The other link in Fleay’s chain of evidence is of still weaker substance. The mere repetition of compliments does not necessarily prove the recipient to be the same person. In fact we find in these very pieces the same phrases applied indiscriminately to Lady Purbeck, Lady Frances Howard, Mrs. Fitzdottrel, perhaps to Lady Hatton, and even to the Earl of Somerset. Of what value, then, can such evidence be?

Fleay’s whole theory rests on this poem, and biographical evidence is unnecessary. It is sufficient to notice that Lady Hatton was a proud woman, that marriage with so eminent a man as Sir Edward Coke was considered a great condescension (_Chamberlain’s Letters_, Camden Soc., p. 29), and that an amour with Jonson is extremely improbable.

=Fitzdottrel.= Fleay’s identification of Fitzdottrel with Coke rests chiefly on the fact that Coke was Lady Hatton’s husband. The following considerations are added. Fitzdottrel is a ‘squire of Norfolk’. Sir E. Coke was a native of Norfolk, and had held office in Norwich. Fitzdottrel’s rôle as sham demoniac is a covert allusion to Coke’s adoption of the popular witch doctrines in the Overbury trial. His jealousy of his wife was shown in the same trial, where he refused to read the document of ‘what ladies loved what lords’, because, as was popularly supposed, his own wife’s name headed the list. Jonson is taking advantage of Coke’s disgrace in November, 1616. He had flattered him in 1613 (_U. 64_).

Our reasons for rejecting this theory are as follows: (1) The natural inference is that Jonson would not deliberately attack the man whom he had highly praised three years before. I do not understand Fleay’s assertion that Jonson was always ready to attack the fallen. (2) The compliment paid to Coke in 1613 (_U. 64_) was not the flattery of an hour of triumph. The appointment to the king’s bench was displeasing to Coke, and made at the suggestion of Bacon with the object of removing him to a place where he would come less often into contact with the king. (3) Fitzdottrel is a light-headed man of fashion, who spends his time in frequenting theatres and public places, and in conjuring evil spirits. Coke was sixty-four years old, the greatest lawyer of his time, and a man of the highest gifts and attainments. (4) The attempted parallel between Fitzdottrel, the pretended demoniac, and Coke, as judge in the Overbury trial, is patently absurd. (5) If Lady Hatton had not been selected for identification with Mrs. Fitzdottrel, Coke would never have been dreamed of as a possible Fitzdottrel.

=Wittipol.= He is a young man just returned from travel, which apparently has been of considerable duration. He saw Mrs. Fitzdottrel once before he went, and upon returning immediately seeks her out. How does this correspond to Jonson’s life? _The Hue and Cry_ was played February 9, 1608. According to Fleay’s interpretation, this was followed by an intimacy with Lady Hatton. Five years later, in 1613, Drummond tells us that Jonson went to France with the son of Sir Walter Raleigh. He returned the same year in time to compose _A Challenge at Tilt_, December 27. Three years later he wrote _The Devil is an Ass_ at the age of forty-three.

Wittipol intimates that he is Mrs. Fitzdottrel’s equal in years, in fashion (1. 6. 124-5), and in blood (1. 6. 168). For Jonson to say this to Lady Hatton would have been preposterous.

=Justice Eitherside.= Only the desire to prove a theory at all costs could have prevented Fleay from seeing that Coke’s counterpart is not Fitzdottrel, but Justice Eitherside. In obstinacy, bigotry, and vanity this character represents the class of judges with which Coke identified himself in the Overbury trial. Nor are these merely class-traits. They are distinctly the faults which marred Coke’s career from the beginning. It is certain that Coke is partially responsible for this portraiture. Overbury was a personal friend of the poet, and the trial, begun in the previous year, had extended into 1616. Jonson must have followed it eagerly. On the other hand, it is improbable that the picture was aimed exclusively at Coke. He merely furnished traits for a typical and not uncommon character. As we have seen, it is in line with Jonson’s usual practise to confine personal satire to the lesser characters.

=Merecraft.= Fleay’s identification with Sir Giles Mompesson has very little to commend it. Mompesson was connected by marriage with James I.’s powerful favorite, George Villiers, later Duke of Buckingham. In 1616 he suggested to Villiers the creation of a special commission for the purpose of granting licenses to keepers of inns and ale-houses. The suggestion was adopted by Villiers; Mompesson was appointed to the Commission in October, 1616, and knighted on November 18 of that year. The patent was not sealed until March, 1617. His high-handed conduct soon became unpopular, but he continued in favor with Villiers and James, and his disgrace did not come until 1621.

It will readily be seen that Mompesson’s position and career conform in no particular to those of Merecraft in the present play. Mompesson was a knight, a friend of the king’s favorite, and in favor with the king. Merecraft is a mere needy adventurer without influence at court, and the associate of ruffians, who frequent the ‘Straits’ and the ‘Bermudas’. Mompesson was himself the recipient of a patent (see section III. 2). Merecraft is merely the projector who devises clever projects for more powerful patrons. Mompesson’s project bears no resemblance to those suggested by Merecraft, and he could hardly have attracted any popular dislike at the time when _The Devil is an Ass_ was presented, since, as we have seen, his patent was not even sealed until the following year. Finally, Jonson would hardly have attacked a man who stood so high at court as did Mompesson in 1616.

It is evident that Jonson had particularly in mind those projectors whose object it was to drain the fens of Lincolnshire. The attempts, as we have seen, were numerous, and it is highly improbable that Jonson wished to satirize any one of them more severely than another. In a single passage, however, it seems possible that Sir John Popham (see page lx) is referred to. In Act 4. Sc. 1 Merecraft speaks of a Sir John Monie-man as a projector who was able to ‘jump a business quickly’ because ‘he had great friends’. That Popham is referred to seems not unlikely from the fact that he was the most important personage who had embarked upon an enterprise of this sort, that his scheme was one of the earliest, that he was not a strict contemporary (d. 1607), and that his scheme had been very unpopular. This is proved by an anonymous letter to the king, in which complaint is made that ‘the “covetous bloody Popham” will ruin many poor men by his offer to drain the fens’ (_Cal. State Papers_, Mar. 14?, 1606).

=Plutarchus Guilthead.= Fleay’s identification with Edmund Howes I am prepared to accept, although biographical data are very meagre. Fleay says: ‘Plutarchus Gilthead, who is writing the lives of the great men in the city; the captain who writes of the Artillery Garden “to train the youth”, etc. [3. 2. 45], is, I think, Edmond Howes, whose continuation of Stow’s Chronicle was published in 1615.’

Howes’ undertaking was a matter of considerable ridicule to his acquaintances. In his 1631 edition he speaks of the heavy blows and great discouragements he received from his friends. He was in the habit of signing himself ‘Gentleman’ and this seems to be satirized in 3. 1, where Guilthead says repeatedly: ‘This is to make you a Gentleman’ (see _N. & Q._ 1st Ser. 6. 199.).

=The Noble House.= Two proposed identifications of the ‘noble house’, which pretends to a duke’s title, mentioned at 2. 4. 15-6. have been made. The expenditure of much energy in the attempt to fix so veiled an allusion is hardly worth while. Jonson of course depended upon contemporary rumor, for which we have no data.

Cunningham’s suggestion that Buckingham is referred to is not convincing. Buckingham’s father was Sir George Villiers of Brooksby in Leicestershire. He was not himself raised to the nobility until August 27, 1616, when he was created Viscount Villiers and Baron Waddon. It was not until January 5, 1617 (not 1616, as Cunningham says), that he became Earl of Buckingham, and it is unlikely that before this time any allusion to Villiers’ aspiration to a dukedom would have been intelligible to Jonson’s audience.

Fleay’s theory that the ‘noble house’ was that of Stuart may be accepted provisionally. Lodowick was made Earl of Richmond in 1613, and Duke in 1623. He was acceptable to king and people, and in this very year was made steward of the household.

[86] See Dedication to _The Fox_, Second Prologue to _The Silent Woman_, Induction to _Bartholomew Fair_, _Staple of News_ (Second Intermean), _Magnetic Lady_ (Second Intermean).

[87] See the note prefixed to _Staple of News_, Act 3, and the second Prologue for _The Silent Woman_.

[88] _Ev. Man in._

[89] _Case is Altered._

[90] _Staple of News._

[91] Dedication to _The Fox_.

[92] The passage from the _Gipsies_ especially finds a close parallel in the fragment of a song in Marston’s _Dutch Courtezan_, 1605, _Wks._ 2. 46:

Purest lips, soft banks of blisses, Self alone deserving kisses.

Are not these lines from Jonson’s hand? This was the year of his collaboration with Marston in _Eastward Ho_.

D. AFTER-INFLUENCE OF THE DEVIL IS AN ASS

A few instances of the subsequent rehandling of certain motives in this play are too striking to be completely overlooked. John Wilson, 1627-c 1696, a faithful student and close imitator of Jonson, produced in 1690 a drama called _Belphegor_, or _The Marriage of the Devil, a Tragi-comedy_. While it is founded on the English translation of Machiavelli’s novella, which appeared in 1674, and closely adheres to the lines of the original, it shows clear evidence of Jonson’s influence. The subject has been fully investigated by Hollstein (cf. _Verhältnis_, pp. 22-24, 28-30, 35, 43, 50).

_The Cheats_, 1662, apparently refers to _The Devil is an Ass_ in the _Prologue_. The characters of Bilboe and Titere Tu belong to the same class of low bullies as Merecraft and Everill, but the evident prototypes of these characters are Subtle and Face in _The Alchemist_.

A third play of Wilson’s, _The Projectors_, 1664, shows unmistakable influence of _The Devil is an Ass_. The chief object of satire is of course the same, and the character of Sir Gudgeon Credulous is modeled after that of Fitzdottrel. The scenes in which the projects are explained, 2. 1 and 3. 1, are similar to the corresponding passages in Jonson. The _Aulularia_ of Plautus is a partial source, so that the play in some features resembles _The Case is Altered_. In 2. 1 Wilson imitates the passage in the _Aulularia_, which closes Act 2. Sc. 1 of _The Devil is an Ass_ (see note 2. 1. 168).

Brome, Jonson’s old servant and friend, also handled the subject of monopolies (see page lxi). Jonson’s influence is especially marked in _The Court Beggar_. The project of perukes (_Wks._ 1. 192) should be compared with Merecraft’s project of toothpicks.

Mrs. Susanna Centlivre’s _Busie Body_ uses the motives borrowed from Boccaccio (see pp. xlv ff.). The scenes in which these appear must have been suggested by Jonson’s play (Genest 2. 419), though the author seems to have been acquainted with the _Decameron_ also. In Act. 1. Sc. 1 Sir George Airy makes a bargain with Sir Francis Gripe similar to Wittipol’s bargain with Fitzdottrel. In exchange for the sum of a hundred guineas he is admitted into the house for the purpose of moving his suit to Miranda. ‘for the space of ten minutes, without lett or molestation’, provided Sir Francis remain in the same room, though out of ear shot (2d ed., p. 8). In Act 2. Sc. 1 the bargain is carried out in much the same way as in Boccaccio and in Jonson. Miranda remaining dumb and Sir George answering for her.

In Act 3. Sc. 4 (2d ed., p. 38) Miranda in the presence of her guardian sends a message by Marplot not to saunter at the garden gate about eight o’clock as he has been accustomed to do, thus making an assignation with him (compare _DA._ 2. 2. 52).

Other motives which seem to show some influence of _The Devil is an Ass_ are Miranda’s trick to have the estate settled upon her, Charles’ disguise as a Spaniard, and Traffick’s jealous care of Isabinda. The character of Marplot as comic butt resembles that of Pug.

The song in _The Devil is an Ass_ 2. 6. 94 (see note) was imitated by Sir John Suckling.

APPENDIX EXTRACTS FROM THE CRITICS

GIFFORD: There is much good writing in this comedy. All the speeches of Satan are replete with the most biting satire, delivered with an appropriate degree of spirit. Fitzdottrel is one of those characters which Jonson delighted to draw, and in which he stood unrivalled, a _gull_, i. e., a confident coxcomb, selfish, cunning, and conceited. Mrs. Fitzdottrel possesses somewhat more interest than the generality of our author’s females, and is indeed a well sustained character. In

## action the principal amusement of the scene (exclusive of the admirable

burlesque of witchery in the conclusion) was probably derived from the mortification of poor Pug, whose stupid stare of amazement at finding himself made an _ass_ of on every possible occasion must, if portrayed as some then on the stage were well able to portray it, have been exquisitely comic.

This play is strictly moral in its conception and conduct. Knavery and folly are shamed and corrected, virtue is strengthened and rewarded, and the ends of dramatic justice are sufficiently answered by the simple exposure of those whose errors are merely subservient to the minor interests of the piece.

HERFORD (_Studies in the Literary Relations of England and Germany_, pp. 318-20): Jonson had in fact so far the Aristophanic quality of genius, that he was at once a most elaborate and minute student of the actual world, and a poet of the airiest and boldest fancy, and that he loved to bring the two rôles into the closest possible combination. No one so capable of holding up the mirror to contemporary society without distorting the slenderest thread of its complex tissue of usages; no one, on the other hand, who so keenly delighted in startling away the illusion or carefully undermining it by some palpably fantastic invention. His most elaborate reproductions of the everyday world are hardly ever without an infusion of equally elaborate caprice,--a leaven of recondite and fantastic legend and grotesque myth, redolent of old libraries and antique scholarship, furtively planted, as it were, in the heart of that everyday world of London life, and so subtly blending with it that the whole motley throng of merchants and apprentices, gulls and gallants, discover nothing unusual in it, and engage with the most perfectly matter of fact air in the business of working it out. The purging of Crispinus in the _Poetaster_, the Aristophanic motive of the _Magnetic Lady_, even the farcical horror of noise which is the mainspring of the _Epicœne_, are only less elaborate and sustained examples of this fantastic realism than the adventure of a Stupid Devil in the play before us. Nothing more anomalous in the London of Jonson’s day could be conceived; yet it is so managed that it loses all its strangeness. So perfectly is the supernatural element welded with the human, that it almost ceases to appear supernatural. Pug, the hero of the adventure, is a pretty, petulant boy, more human by many degrees than the half fairy Puck of Shakespeare, which doubtless helped to suggest him, and the arch-fiend Satan is a bluff old politician, anxious to ward off the perils of London from his young simpleton of a son, who is equally eager to plunge into them. The old savage horror fades away before Jonson’s humanising touch, the infernal world loses all its privilege of peculiar terror and strength, and sinks to the footing of a mere rival state, whose merchandise can be kept out of the market and its citizens put in the Counter or carted to Tyburn.

A. W. WARD (_Eng. Dram. Lit._, pp. 372-3): The oddly-named comedy of _The Devil is an Ass_, acted in 1616, seems already to exhibit a certain degree of decay in the dramatic powers which had so signally called forth its predecessor. Yet this comedy possesses a considerable literary interest, as adapting both to Jonson’s dramatic method, and to the general moral atmosphere of his age, a theme connecting itself with some of the most notable creations of the earlier Elizabethan drama.... The idea of the play is as healthy as its plot is ingenious; but apart from the circumstance that the latter is rather slow in preparation, and by no means, I think, gains in perspicuousness as it proceeds, the design itself suffers from one radical mistake. Pug’s intelligence is so much below par that he suffers as largely on account of his clumsiness as on account of his viciousness, while remaining absolutely without influence upon the course of the action. The comedy is at the same time full of humor, particularly in the entire character of Fitzdottrel.

SWINBURNE (_Study of Ben Jonson_, pp. 65-7): If _The Devil is an Ass_ cannot be ranked among the crowning masterpieces of its author, it is not because the play shows any sign of decadence in literary power or in humorous invention. The writing is admirable, the wealth of comic matter is only too copious, the characters are as firm in outline or as rich in color as any but the most triumphant examples of his satirical or sympathetic skill in finished delineation and demarcation of humors. On the other hand, it is of all Ben Jonson’s comedies since the date of _Cynthia’s Revels_ the most obsolete in subject of satire, the most temporary in its allusions and applications: the want of fusion or even connection (except of the most mechanical or casual kind) between the various parts of its structure and the alternate topics of its ridicule makes the action more difficult to follow than that of many more complicated plots: and, finally, the admixture of serious sentiment and noble emotion is not so skilfully managed as to evade the imputation of incongruity. [The dialogue between Lady Tailbush and Lady Eitherside in Act 4. Sc. 1 has some touches ‘worthy of Molière himself.’ In Act 4. Sc. 3 Mrs. Fitzdottrel’s speech possesses a ‘a noble and natural eloquence,’ but the character of her husband is ‘almost too loathsome to be ridiculous,’ and unfit ‘for the leading part in a comedy of ethics as well as of morals.’] The prodigality of elaboration lavished on such a multitude of subordinate characters, at the expense of all continuous interest and to the sacrifice of all dramatic harmony, may tempt the reader to apostrophize the poet in his own words:

You are so covetous still to embrace More than you can, that you lose all.

Yet a word of parting praise must be given to Satan: a small part as far as extent goes, but a splendid example of high comic imagination after the order of Aristophanes, admirably relieved by the low comedy of the asinine Pug and the voluble doggrel by the antiquated Vice.

TEXT

EDITOR’S NOTE

The text here adopted is that of the original edition of 1631. No changes of reading have been made; spelling, punctuation, capitalization, and italics are reproduced. The original pagination is inserted in brackets; the book-holder’s marginal notes are inserted where 1716 and Whalley placed them. In a few instances modern type has been substituted for archaic characters. The spacing of the contracted words has been normalized.

1641 = Pamphlet folio of 1641. 1692 = The Third Folio, 1692. 1716 = Edition of 1716 (17). W = Whalley’s edition, 1756. G = Gifford’s edition, 1816. SD. = Stage directions at the beginning of a scene. SN. = Side note, or book-holder’s note. om. = omitted. ret. = retained. f. = and all later editions. G§ = a regular change. After a single citation only exceptions are noted. See Introduction, page xvi.

Mere changes of spelling have not been noted in the variants. All changes of form and all suggestive changes of punctuation have been recorded.

THE DIUELL IS AN ASSE:

A COMEDIE ACTED IN THE YEARE, 1616.

_BY HIS MAIESTIES_ SERVANTS.

The Author BEN: IONSON.

HOR. _de_ ART. POET. _Ficta voluptatis Cauſâ, ſint proxima veris._

[DEVICE OF A GRIFFIN’S HEAD ERASED]

_LONDON_.

Printed by _I. B._ for ROBERT ALLOT, and are to be ſold at the ſigne of the _Beare_, in _Pauls_ Church-yard. 1631.

THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY.

SATAN. _The great diuell._ [93] PVG. _The leſſe diuell._ INIQVITY. _The Vice._ FITZ-DOTTRELL. _A Squire of_ Norfolk. Miſtreſſe FRANCES. _His wife._ 5 MEERE-CRAFT. _The Proiector._ EVERILL. _His champion._ WITTIPOL. _A young Gallant._ MANLY. _His friend._ INGINE. _A Broaker._ 10 TRAINES. _The Proiectors man._ GVILT-HEAD. _A Gold-ſmith._ PLVTARCHVS. _His ſonne._ Sir POVLE EITHER-SIDE. _A Lawyer, and Iuſtice._ Lady EITHER-SIDE. _His wife._ 15 Lady TAILE-BVSH. _The Lady Proiectreſſe._ PIT-FALL. _Her woman._ AMBLER. _Her Gentlemanvſher._ SLEDGE. _A Smith, the conſtable._ SHACKLES. _Keeper of Newgate._ 20

SERIEANTS.

_The Scene_, LONDON.

The Prologue.

_The_ DIVELL _is an_ Aſſe. _That is, to day, The name of what you are met for, a new Play. Yet, Grandee’s, would you were not come to grace Our matter, with allowing vs no place. Though you preſume_ SATAN _a ſubtill thing, 5 And may haue heard hee’s worne in a thumbe-ring; Doe not on theſe preſumptions, force vs act, In compaſſe of a cheeſe-trencher. This tract Will ne’er admit our_ vice, _becauſe of yours. Anone, who, worſe then you, the fault endures 10 That your ſelues make? when you will thruſt and ſpurne, And knocke vs o’ the elbowes, and bid, turne; As if, when wee had ſpoke, wee muſt be gone, Or, till wee ſpeake, muſt all runne in, to one, Like the young adders, at the old ones mouth? 15 Would wee could ſtand due_ North; _or had no_ South, _If that offend: or were_ Muſcouy _glaſſe, That you might looke our_ Scenes _through as they paſſe. We know not how to affect you. If you’ll come To ſee new Playes, pray you affoord vs roome, 20 And ſhew this, but the ſame face you haue done Your deare delight, the_ Diuell _of_ Edmunton. _Or, if, for want of roome it muſt miſ-carry, ’Twill be but Iuſtice, that your cenſure tarry, Till you giue ſome. And when ſixe times you ha’ ſeen’t, 25 If this_ Play _doe not like, the Diuell is in’t._

[93] Dramatis Personæ 1716, f. G places the women’s names after those of the men.

[94] 1, 2 Devil 1692, f.

[95] 4 Fabian Fitzdottrel G

[96] 5 Mrs. Frances Fitzdottrel G || His wife] om. G

[97] 9 Eustace Manly G

[98] 10 Engine 1716, f.

[99] 12 Thomas Gilthead G

[100] 15 His wife] om. G

[101] 18 Gentleman-usher to lady Tailbush G

[102] 21 Serjeants, officers, servants, underkeepers, &c. G

[103] 22 The] om. 1716, W

[104] The Prologue.] follows the title-page 1716, W

[105] 5 _subtle_ 1692 f.

[106] 10 than 1692, f. passim in this sense. Anon 1692, f.

[107] 12 o’] on G§

[108] 14 till] ’till 1716

[109] 25 ha’] have G§

THE DIVELL IS AN ASSE. [95]

ACT. I. SCENE. I.

DIVELL. PVG. INIQVITY.

Hoh, hoh, hoh, hoh, hoh, hoh, hoh, hoh, &c. To earth? and, why to earth, thou foooliſh Spirit? What wold’ſt thou do on earth?

PVG. For that, great Chiefe! As time ſhal work. I do but ask my mon’th. Which euery petty _pui’nee Diuell_ has; 5 Within that terme, the Court of _Hell_ will heare Some thing, may gaine a longer grant, perhaps.

SAT. For what? the laming a poore Cow, or two? Entring a Sow, to make her caſt her farrow? Or croſſing of a Mercat-womans Mare, 10 Twixt this, and _Totnam_? theſe were wont to be Your maine atchieuements, _Pug_, You haue ſome plot, now, Vpon a tonning of Ale, to ſtale the yeſt, Or keepe the churne ſo, that the buttter come not; Spight o’ the houſewiues cord, or her hot ſpit? 15 Or ſome good Ribibe, about _Kentiſh_ Towne, Or _Hogſden_, you would hang now, for a witch, Becauſe ſhee will not let you play round _Robbin_: And you’ll goe ſowre the Citizens Creame ’gainſt Sunday? That ſhe may be accus’d for’t, and condemn’d, 20 By a _Middleſex_ Iury, to the ſatisfaction Of their offended friends, the _Londiners_ wiues Whoſe teeth were ſet on edge with it? Fooliſh feind, Stay i’ your place, know your owne ſtrengths, and put not Beyond the ſpheare of your actiuity. 25 You are too dull a Diuell to be truſted [96] Forth in thoſe parts, _Pug_, vpon any affayre That may concerne our name, on earth. It is not Euery ones worke. The ſtate of _Hell_ muſt care Whom it imployes, in point of reputation, 30 Heere about _London_. You would make, I thinke An Agent, to be ſent, for _Lancaſhire_, Proper inough; or ſome parts of _Northumberland_, So yo’ had good inſtructions, _Pug_.

PVG. _O Chiefe!_ You doe not know, deare _Chiefe_, what there is in mee. 35 Proue me but for a fortnight, for a weeke, And lend mee but a _Vice_, to carry with mee, To practice there-with any play-fellow, And, you will ſee, there will come more vpon’t, Then you’ll imagine, pretious _Chiefe_.

SAT. What _Vice_? 40 What kind wouldſt th’ haue it of?

PVG. Why, any _Fraud_; Or _Couetouſneſſe_; or Lady _Vanity_; Or old _Iniquity_: I’ll call him hither.

INI. What is he, calls vpon me, and would ſeeme to lack a _Vice_? Ere his words be halfe ſpoken, I am with him in a trice; 45 Here, there, and euery where, as the Cat is with the mice: True _vetus Iniquitas_. Lack’ſt thou Cards, friend, or Dice? I will teach thee cheate, Child, to cog, lye, and ſwagger, And euer and anon, to be drawing forth thy dagger: To ſweare by Gogs-nownes, like a lusty _Iuuentus_, 50 In a cloake to thy heele, and a hat like a pent-houſe. Thy breeches of three fingers, and thy doublet all belly, With a Wench that shall feede thee, with cock-ſtones and gelly.

PVG. Is it not excellent, _Chiefe_? how nimble he is!

INI. Child of hell, this is nothing! I will fetch thee a leape 55 From the top of _Pauls_-ſteeple, to the Standard in _Cheepe_: And lead thee a daunce, through the ſtreets without faile, Like a needle of _Spaine_, with a thred at my tayle. We will ſuruay the _Suburbs_, and make forth our ſallyes, Downe _Petticoate-lane_, and vp the _Smock-allies_, 60 To _Shoreditch_, _Whitechappell_, and so to Saint _Kathernes_. To drinke with the _Dutch_ there, and take forth their patternes: From thence, wee will put in at _Cuſtome-houſe_ key there, And ſee, how the Factors, and Prentizes play there, Falſe with their Maſters; and gueld many a full packe, 65 To ſpend it in pies, at the _Dagger_, and the _Wool-ſacke_.

PVG. Braue, braue, _Iniquity_! will not this doe, _Chiefe_?

INI. Nay, boy, I wil bring thee to the Bawds, and the Royſters, At _Belins-gate_, feaſting with claret-wine, and oyſters, From thence ſhoot the _Bridge_, childe, to the Cranes i’ the _Vintry_, 70 And ſee, there the gimblets, how they make their entry! Or, if thou hadſt rather, to the _Strand_ downe to fall, ’Gainſt the Lawyers come dabled from _Weſtminſter-hall_ [97] And marke how they cling, with their clyents together, Like Iuie to Oake; so Veluet to Leather: 75 Ha, boy, I would ſhew thee.

PVG. Rare, rare!

DIV. Peace, dotard, And thou more ignorant thing, that ſo admir’ſt. Art thou the ſpirit thou ſeem’ſt? ſo poore? to chooſe This, for a _Vice_, t’aduance the cauſe of _Hell_, Now? as Vice ſtands this preſent yeere? Remember, 80 What number it is. _Six hundred_ and _ſixteene_. Had it but beene _fiue hundred_, though ſome _ſixty_ Aboue; that’s _fifty_ yeeres agone, and _ſix_, (When euery great man had his _Vice_ ſtand by him, In his long coat, ſhaking his wooden dagger) 85 I could conſent, that, then this your graue choice Might haue done that with his Lord _Chiefe_, the which Moſt of his chamber can doe now. But _Pug_, As the times are, who is it, will receiue you? What company will you goe to? or whom mix with? 90 Where canſt thou carry him? except to Tauernes? To mount vp ona joynt-ſtoole, with a _Iewes_-trumpe, To put downe _Cokeley_, and that muſt be to Citizens? He ne’re will be admitted, there, where _Vennor_ comes. Hee may perchance, in taile of a Sheriffes dinner, 95 Skip with a rime o’ the Table, from _New-nothing_, And take his _Almaine_-leape into a cuſtard, Shall make my Lad _Maioreſſe_, and her ſiſters, Laugh all their hoods ouer their shoulders. But, This is not that will doe, they are other things 100 That are receiu’d now vpon earth, for Vices; Stranger, and newer: and chang’d euery houre. They ride ’hem like their horſes off their legges, And here they come to _Hell_, whole legions of ’hem, Euery weeke tyr’d. Wee, ſtill ſtriue to breed, 105 And reare ’hem vp new ones; but they doe not ſtand, When they come there: they turne ’hem on our hands. And it is fear’d they haue a ſtud o’ their owne Will put downe ours. Both our breed, and trade VVill ſuddenly decay, if we preuent not. 110 Vnleſſe it be a _Vice_ of quality, Or faſhion, now, they take none from vs. Car-men Are got into the yellow ſtarch, and Chimney-ſweepers To their tabacco, and ſtrong-waters, _Hum_, _Meath_, and _Obarni_. VVe muſt therefore ayme 115 At extraordinary ſubtill ones, now, When we doe ſend to keepe vs vp in credit. Not old _Iniquities_. Get you e’ne backe, Sir, To making of your rope of ſand againe. You are not for the manners, nor the times: [98] 120 They haue their _Vices_, there, moſt like to _Vertues_; You cannnot know ’hem, apart, by any difference: They weare the ſame clothes, eate the ſame meate, Sleepe i’ the ſelfe-ſame beds, rid i’ thoſe coaches. Or very like, foure horſes in a coach, 125 As the beſt men and women. Tiſſue gownes, Garters and roſes, foureſcore pound a paire, Embroydred ſtockings, cut-worke ſmocks, and ſhirts, More certaine marks of lechery, now, and pride, Then ere they were of true nobility! 130 But _Pug_, ſince you doe burne with ſuch deſire To doe the Common-wealth of Hell ſome ſeruice; I am content, aſſuming of a body, You goe to earth, and viſit men, a day. But you muſt take a body ready made, _Pug_, 135 I can create you none: nor ſhall you forme Your ſelfe an aery one, but become ſubiect To all impreſſion of the fleſh, you take, So farre as humane frailty. So, this morning, There is a handſome Cutpurſe hang’d at _Tiborne_, 140 Whoſe ſpirit departed, you may enter his body: For clothes imploy your credit, with the Hangman, Or let our tribe of Brokers furniſh you. And, looke, how farre your ſubtilty can worke Thorow thoſe organs, with that body, ſpye 145 Amongſt mankind, (you cannot there want vices, And therefore the leſſe need to carry ’hem wi’ you) But as you make your ſoone at nights relation, And we ſhall find, it merits from the State, Your ſhall haue both truſt from vs, and imployment. 150

PVG. Most gracious _Chiefe_!

DIV. Onely, thus more I bind you, To ſerue the firſt man that you meete; and him I’le ſhew you, now: Obserue him. Yon’ is hee, _He ſhewes_ Fitz-dottrel _to him, comming forth_. You ſhall ſee, firſt, after your clothing. Follow him: But once engag’d, there you muſt ſtay and fixe; Not ſhift, vntill the midnights cocke doe crow.

PVG. Any conditions to be gone.

DIV. Away, then. 157

[110] SD. DIVELL] _Devil_, 1692 || _Satan_ 1716, W || DIVELL ...] _Enter_ SATAN _and_ PUG. G

[111] 1 &c. om. G

[112] 9 entering G

[113] 10 Market 1641, 1692, 1716 || market W, G

[114] 11 Tottenham G

[115] 15 Housewive’s 1716 || housewife’s W, f.

[116] 23 with’t W, G

[117] 24 i’] in G§ || strength 1692, f.

[118] 30 employs W, G

[119] 33 enough 1692, f.

[120] 34 you ’ad 1716 you had W, G

[121] 38 there with 1692, f.

[122] 41 th’] thou G Why any, Fraud, 1716 Why any: Fraud, W, G

[123] 43 I’ll ...] _Sat._ I’ll ... W, G] _Enter_ INIQUITY. G

[124] 48 cheate] to cheat W [to] cheat G

[125] 57 Dance 1716 || dance 1641. W, G

[126] 69 _Billings-gate_ 1692 _Billingsgate_ 1716 Billingsgate W Billinsgate G

[127] 76 thee.] thee--G || DIV.] Dev. 1692 || _Sat._ 1716, f.

[128] 79 t’] to G

[129] 84 5 () om. G§

[130] 98 Lady 1692, 1716 lady W, G

[131] 101 Vices 1641, 1692, 1716, G vices W

[132] 103 ’hem] ’em 1692, 1716, W passim them G§

[133] 106 ’hem om. G stand,] stand; G

[134] 107 there:] there W there, G

[135] 116 subtle 1692, f.

[136] 120 manner G

[137] 128 Embrothered 1641 Embroider’d 1716, f. stockins 1641

[138] 130 [_Exit Iniq._ G

[139] 137 airy 1692, f. passim

[140] 139 human W, G

[141] 140 _Tyburn_ 1692, f. passim

[142] 142 employ W, G

[143] 146, 7 () ret. G

[144] 147 wi’] with G§

[145] 150 employment W, G

[146] 151, 157 DIV.] _Dev._ 1692 _Sat._ 1716, f.

[147] 153 now] new 1716

[148] 153 SN.] _Shews him Fitzdottrel coming out of his house at a distance._ G

[149] 157 _Exeunt severally._ G

ACT. I. SCENE. II.

FITZ-DOTTRELL.

I, they doe, now, name _Bretnor_, as before, [97] They talk’d of _Greſham_, and of Doctor _Fore-man_, _Francklin_, and _Fiske_, and _Sauory_ (he was in too) But there’s not one of theſe, that euer could Yet ſhew a man the _Diuell_, in true ſort. 5 They haue their chriſtalls, I doe know, and rings, And virgin parchment, and their dead-mens ſculls Their rauens wings, their lights, and _pentacles_, With _characters_; I ha’ ſeene all theſe. But-- Would I might ſee the _Diuell_. I would giue 10 A hundred o’ theſe pictures, to ſee him Once out of picture. May I proue a cuckold, (And that’s the one maine mortall thing I feare) If I beginne not, now, to thinke, the Painters Haue onely made him. ’Slight, he would be ſeene, 15 One time or other elſe. He would not let An ancient gentleman, of a good houſe, As moſt are now in _England_, the _Fitz-Dottrel’s_ Runne wilde, and call vpon him thus in vaine, As I ha’ done this twelue mone’th. If he be not, 20 At all, why, are there Coniurers? If they be not, Why, are there lawes againſt ’hem? The beſt artiſts Of _Cambridge_, _Oxford_, _Middlesex_, and _London_, _Essex_, and _Kent_, I haue had in pay to raiſe him, Theſe fifty weekes, and yet h’appeares not. ’Sdeath, 25 I ſhall ſuſpect, they, can make circles onely Shortly, and know but his hard names. They doe ſay, H’will meet a man (of himſelfe) that has a mind to him. If hee would ſo, I haue a minde and a halfe for him: He ſhould not be long abſent. Pray thee, come 30 I long for thee. An’ I were with child by him, And my wife too; I could not more. Come, yet, _He expreſſes a longing to ſee the Diuell_ Good _Beelezebub_. Were hee a kinde diuell, And had humanity in him, hee would come, but To ſaue ones longing. I ſhould vſe him well, 35 I ſweare, and with reſpect (would he would try mee) Not, as the Conjurers doe, when they ha’ rais’d him. Get him in bonds, and ſend him poſt, on errands. A thouſand miles, it is prepoſterous, that; [100] And I beleeue, is the true cauſe he comes not. 40 And hee has reaſon. Who would be engag’d, That might liue freely, as he may doe? I ſweare, They are wrong all. The burn’t child dreads the fire. They doe not know to entertaine the _Diuell_. I would ſo welcome him, obſerue his diet, 45 Get him his chamber hung with _arras_, two of ’hem, I’ my own houſe; lend him my wiues wrought pillowes: And as I am an honeſt man, I thinke, If he had a minde to her, too; I should grant him, To make our friend-ſhip perfect. So I would not 50 To euery man. If hee but heare me, now? And ſhould come to mee in a braue young ſhape, And take me at my word? ha! Who is this?

[150] SD. ACT. I. om. 1716, f. (as regularly, after SC. I. of each act.) ACT ...] SCENE II. _The street before Fitzdottrel’s House. Enter_ FITZDOTTREL. G

[151] 12 picture, 1641

[152] 17 a] as W [as] G || good] good a G

[153] 21, 22 comma om. after ‘why’ and ‘Why’ 1692 f.

[154] 25 h’] he G

[155] 26 circle 1641

[156] 30 Prithee G

[157] 31 An’] an G

[158] 32 SN. _expresseth_ 1692, 1716, W || SN. om. G

ACT. I. SCENE. IIJ.

PVG. FITZ-DOTTRELL.

Sir, your good pardon, that I thus preſume Vpon your priuacy. I am borne a Gentleman, A younger brother; but, in ſome diſgrace, Now, with my friends: and want ſome little meanes, To keepe me vpright, while things be reconcil’d. 5 Pleaſe you, to let my ſeruice be of vſe to you, Sir.

FIT. Seruice? ’fore hell, my heart was at my mouth, Till I had view’d his ſhooes well: for, thoſe roſes Were bigge inough to hide a clouen foote. _Hee lookes and ſuruay’s his feet: ouer and ouer._ No, friend, my number’s full. I haue one ſeruant, 10 Who is my all, indeed; and, from the broome Vnto the bruſh: for, iuſt so farre, I truſt him. He is my Ward-robe man, my Cater, Cooke, Butler, and Steward; lookes vnto my horſe: And helpes to watch my wife. H’has all the places, 15 That I can thinke on, from the garret downward, E’en to the manger, and the curry-combe.

PVG. Sir, I ſhall put your worſhip to no charge, More then my meate, and that but very little, I’le ſerue you for your loue.

FIT. Ha? without wages? 20 I’le harken o’ that eare, were I at leaſure. But now, I’m buſie. ’Pr’y the, friend forbeare mee, And’ thou hadſt beene a _Diuell_, I ſhould ſay [101] Somewhat more to thee. Thou doſt hinder, now, My meditations.

PVG. Sir, I am a _Diuell_. 25

FIT. How!

PVG. A true _Diuell_, S^r.

FIT. Nay, now, you ly: Vnder your fauour, friend, for, I’ll not quarrell. I look’d o’ your feet, afore, you cannot coozen mee, Your ſhoo’s not clouen, Sir, you are whole hoof’d. _He viewes his feete againe._ PVG. Sir, that’s a popular error, deceiues many: 30 But I am that, I tell you.

FIT. What’s your name?

PVG. My name is _Diuell_, S^r.

FIT. Sai’ſt thou true.

PVG. in-deed, S^r.

FIT. ’Slid! there’s ſome _omen_ i’ this! what countryman?

PVG. Of _Derby-ſhire_, S^r. about the _Peake_.

FIT. That Hole Belong’d to your Anceſtors?

PVG. Yes, _Diuells_ arſe, S^r. 35

FIT. I’ll entertaine him for the name ſake. Ha? And turne away my tother man? and ſaue Foure pound a yeere by that? there’s lucke, and thrift too! The very _Diuell_ may come, heereafter, as well. Friend, I receiue you: but (withall) I acquaint you, 40 Aforehand, if yo’ offend mee, I muſt beat you. It is a kinde of exerciſe, I vſe. And cannot be without.

PVG. Yes, if I doe not Offend, you can, ſure.

FIT. Faith, _Diuell_, very hardly: I’ll call you by your ſurname, ’cauſe I loue it. 45

[159] 46 ’hem] ’em G

[160] 47 Wife’s 1716 wife’s W, G passim

[161] 53 word?--_Enter_ PUG _handsomely shaped and apparelled_. G

[162] SD. on. G

[163] 9 SN. on. G || _Aside._ G

[164] 13 m’acater W

[165] 15 He has W, G

[166] 17 Even G

[167] 21 I’d W, G

[168] 22 I am G ’Prythe 1692 ’Prithee 1716, W Prithee G

[169] 23 An’ 1716, W An G || hadſt] hast 1692, 1716

[170] 26 Sir 1641. f. passim

[171] 28 cozen 1692, f. passim

[172] 29 SN. om. G

[173] 31 that, I] that I 1692, f.

[174] 37 t’other 1692, f.

[175] 39 [_Aside._ G

[176] 41 you W, G

ACT. I. SCENE. IIII.

INGINE. WITTIPOL. MANLY. FITZDOTTRELL. PVG.

Yonder hee walkes, Sir, I’ll goe lift him for you.

WIT. To him, good _Ingine_, raiſe him vp by degrees, Gently, and hold him there too, you can doe it. Shew your ſelfe now, a _Mathematicall_ broker.

ING. I’ll warrant you for halfe a piece.

WIT. ’Tis done, S^r. 5

MAN. Is’t poſſible there ſhould be ſuch a man?

WIT. You ſhall be your owne witneſſe, I’ll not labour To tempt you paſt your faith.

MAN. And is his wife So very handſome, ſay you?

WIT. I ha’ not ſeene her, Since I came home from trauell: and they ſay, 10 Shee is not alter’d. Then, before I went, I ſaw her once; but ſo, as ſhee hath ſtuck Still i’ my view, no obiect hath remou’d her.

MAN. ’Tis a faire gueſt, Friend, beauty: and once lodg’d [102] Deepe in the eyes, ſhee hardly leaues the Inne. 15 How do’s he keepe her?

WIT. Very braue. Howeuer, Himselfe be fordide, hee is ſenſuall that way. In euery dreſſing, hee do’s ſtudy her.

MAN. And furniſh forth himselfe ſo from the _Brokers_?

WIT. Yes, that’s a hyr’d ſuite, hee now has one, 20 To ſee the _Diuell_ is an _Aſſe_, to day, in: (This _Ingine_ gets three or foure pound a weeke by him) He dares not miſſe a new _Play_, or a _Feaſt_, What rate ſoeuer clothes be at; and thinkes Himſelfe ſtill new, in other mens old.

MAN. But ſtay, 25 Do’s he loue meat ſo?

WIT. Faith he do’s not hate it. But that’s not it. His belly and his palate Would be compounded with for reaſon. Mary, A wit he has, of that ſtrange credit with him, ’Gainſt all mankinde; as it doth make him doe 30 Iuſt what it liſt: it rauiſhes him forth, Whither it pleaſe, to any aſſembly’or place, And would conclude him ruin’d, ſhould hee ſcape One publike meeting, out of the beliefe He has of his owne great, and Catholike ſtrengths, 35 In arguing, and diſcourſe. It takes, I ſee: H’has got the cloak vpon him.

Ingine _hath won_ Fitzdottrel, _to ’ſay on the cloake_.

FIT. A faire garment, By my faith, _Ingine_!

ING. It was neuer made, Sir, For three ſcore pound, I aſſure you: ’Twill yeeld thirty. The pluſh, Sir, coſt three pound, ten ſhillings a yard! 40 And then the lace, and veluet.

FIT. I ſhall, _Ingine_, Be look’d at, pretitly, in it! Art thou ſure The _Play_ is play’d to day?

ING. O here’s the bill, S^r. _Hee giues him the_ Play-_bill_. I’, had forgot to gi’t you.

FIT. Ha? the _Diuell_! I will not loſe you, Sirah! But, _Ingine_, thinke you, 45 The Gallant is ſo furious in his folly? So mad vpon the matter, that hee’ll part With’s cloake vpo’ theſe termes?

ING. Truſt not your _Ingine_, Breake me to pieces elſe, as you would doe A rotten _Crane_, or an old ruſty _Iacke_, 50 That has not one true wheele in him. Doe but talke with him.

FIT. I ſhall doe that, to ſatisfie you, _Ingine_, And my ſelfe too. With your leaue, Gentlemen. _Hee turnes to_ Wittipol. Which of you is it, is ſo meere Idolater To my wiues beauty, and ſo very prodigall 55 Vnto my patience, that, for the ſhort parlee? Of one ſwift houres quarter, with my wife, He will depart with (let mee ſee) this cloake here The price of folly? Sir, are you the man?

WIT. I am that vent’rer, Sir.

FIT. Good time! your name 60 Is _Witty-pol_?

WIT. The ſame, S^r.

FIT. And ’tis told me, [103] Yo’ haue trauell’d lately?

WIT. That I haue, S^r.

FIT. Truly, Your trauells may haue alter’d your complexion; But ſure, your wit ſtood ſtill.

WIT. It may well be, Sir. All heads ha’ not like growth.

FIT. The good mans grauity, 65 That left you land, your father, neuer taught you Theſe pleaſant matches?

WIT. No, nor can his mirth, With whom I make ’hem, put me off.

FIT. You are Reſolu’d then?

WIT. Yes, S^r.

FIT. Beauty is the _Saint_, You’ll ſacrifice your ſelfe, into the ſhirt too? 70

WIT. So I may ſtill cloth, and keepe warme your wiſdome?

FIT. You lade me S^r!

WIT. I know what you wil beare, S^r.

FIT. Well, to the point. ’Tis only, Sir, you ſay, To ſpeake vnto my wife?

WIT. Only, to ſpeake to her.

FIT. And in my preſence?

WIT. In your very preſence. 75

FIT. And in my hearing?

WIT. In your hearing: ſo, You interrupt vs not.

FIT. For the ſhort ſpace You doe demand, the fourth part of an houre, I thinke I ſhall, with ſome conuenient ſtudy, And this good helpe to boot, bring my ſelfe to’t. 80

_Hee ſhrugs himſelfe vp in the cloake._

WIT. I aske no more.

FIT. Pleaſe you, walk to’ard my houſe, Speake what you liſt; that time is yours: My right I haue departed with. But, not beyond, A minute, or a ſecond, looke for. Length, And drawing out, ma’aduance much, to theſe matches. 85 And I except all kiſſing. Kiſſes are Silent petitions ſtill with willing _Louers_.

WIT. _Louers?_ How falls that o’ your phantſie?

FIT. Sir. I doe know ſomewhat. I forbid all lip-worke.

WIT. I am not eager at forbidden dainties. 90 Who couets vnfit things, denies him ſelfe.

FIT. You ſay well, Sir, ’Twas prettily ſaid, that ſame, He do’s, indeed. I’ll haue no touches, therefore, Nor takings by the armes, nor tender circles Caſt ’bout the waſt, but all be done at diſtance. 95 Loue is brought vp with thoſe ſoft _migniard_ handlings; His pulſe lies in his palme: and I defend All melting ioynts, and fingers, (that’s my bargaine) I doe defend ’hem, any thing like action. But talke, Sir, what you will. Vſe all the _Tropes_ 100 And _Schemes_, that Prince _Quintilian_ can afford you: And much good do your _Rhetoriques_ heart. You are welcome, Sir. _Ingine_, God b’w’you.

WIT. Sir, I muſt condition To haue this Gentleman by, a witneſſe.

FIT. Well, I am content, ſo he be ſilent.

MAN. Yes, S r. 105

FIT. Come _Diuell_, I’ll make you roome, ſtreight. But I’ll ſhew you Firſt, to your Miſtreſſe, who’s no common one, You muſt conceiue, that brings this game to ſee her. [104] I hope thou’ſt brought me good lucke.

PVG. I ſhall do’t. Sir.

[177] SD. ACT. ...] _Enter, behind_, ENGINE, _with a cloke on his arm_, WITTIPOL, _and_ MANLY. G

[178] 5 [_Engine goes to Fitzdottrel and takes him aside._ G

[179] 19 _Broker_ 1692, 1716 broker W

[180] 20 on 1641, f.

[181] 28 Marry 1692, f.

[182] 32 whether 1716

[183] 36 SN. ’say] say 1641, f. SN. om. G

[184] 37 _Fitz._ [_after saying on the cloke._] G

[185] 42 prettily 1641. f.

[186] 44 I’, had] I’d 1716 I had W, G gi’t] give it G

[187] 48 upon 1716, f.

[188] 50 _Cain_ 1692 _Cane_ 1716

[189] 51 with him] with W

[190] 53 too. [_comes forward._] G SN. om. G

[191] 60 venturer G

[192] 62 You G§

[193] 70 comma om. after ‘selfe’ 1692, f. to W, G

[194] 80 SN. _Hee_ om. G

[195] 82 is om. 1641

[196] 85 may W, G

[197] 88 phant’sie W phantasy G o’ret. G

[198] 99 comma om. W, G

[199] 102 [_Opens the door of his house._ G

[200] 103 b’w’] be wi’ G

[201] 108 this om. 1641

[202] 109 [_They all enter the house._ G

ACT. I. SCENE. V.

VVITTIPOL. MANLY.

_Ingine_, you hope o’ your halfe piece? ’Tis there, Sir. Be gone. Friend _Manly_, who’s within here? fixed?

Wittipol _knocks his friend o’ the breſt_.

MAN. I am directly in a fit of wonder What’ll be the iſſue of this conference!

WIT. For that, ne’r vex your ſelfe, till the euent. 5 How like yo’ him?

MAN. I would faine ſee more of him.

WIT. What thinke you of this?

MAN. I am paſt degrees of thinking. Old _Africk_, and the new _America_, With all their fruite of Monſters cannot ſhew So iuſt a prodigie.

WIT. Could you haue beleeu’d, 10 Without your ſight, a minde ſo ſordide inward, Should be ſo ſpecious, and layd forth abroad, To all the ſhew, that euer ſhop, or ware was?

MAN. I beleeue any thing now, though I confeſſe His _Vices_ are the moſt extremities 15 I euer knew in nature. But, why loues hee The _Diuell_ ſo?

WIT. O S^r! for hidden treaſure, Hee hopes to finde: and has propos’d himſelfe So infinite a Maſſe, as to recouer, He cares not what he parts with, of the preſent, 20 To his men of Art, who are the race, may coyne him. Promiſe gold-mountaines, and the couetous Are ſtill moſt prodigall.

MAN. But ha’ you faith, That he will hold his bargaine?

WIT. O deare, Sir! He will not off on’t. Feare him not. I know him. 25 One baſeneſſe ſtill accompanies another. See! he is heere already, and his wife too.

MAN. A wondrous handſome creature, as I liue!

[203] SD. ACT. ...] om. SCENE III. _A Room in_ FITZDOTTREL’S _House_. _Enter_ WITTIPOL, MANLY, _and_ ENGINE. G

[204] 2 SN.] gone. [_Exit Engine._] || fixed! [_knocks him on the breast._ G

[205] 4 ’ll] will G

ACT. I. SCENE. VI. [105]

FITZ-DOTTRELL. Miſtreſſe FITZ-DOTTRELL. WITTIPOL. MANLY.

Come wife, this is the Gentleman. Nay, bluſh not.

M^rs. FI. Why, what do you meane Sir? ha’ you your reaſon?

FIT. Wife, I do not know, that I haue lent it forth To any one; at leaſt, without a pawne, wife: Or that I’haue eat or drunke the thing, of late, 5 That ſhould corrupt it. Wherefore gentle wife, Obey, it is thy vertue: hold no acts Of diſputation.

M^rs. FI. Are you not enough The talke, of feaſts, and meetingy, but you’ll ſtill Make argument for freſh?

FIT. Why, carefull wedlocke, 10 If I haue haue a longing to haue one tale more Goe of mee, what is that to thee, deare heart? Why ſhouldſt thou enuy my delight? or croſſe it? By being ſolicitous, when it not concernes thee?

M^rs. FI. Yes, I haue ſhare in this. The ſcorne will fall 15 As bittterly on me, where both are laught at.

FIT. Laught at, ſweet bird? is that the ſcruple? Come, come, Thou art a _Niaiſe_. _A_ Niaiſe _is a young Hawke, tane crying out of the neſt._ Which of your great houſes, (I will not meane at home, here, but abroad) Your families in _France_, wife, ſend not forth 20 Something, within the ſeuen yeere, may be laught at? I doe not ſay ſeuen moneths, nor ſeuen weekes, Nor ſeuen daies, nor houres: but ſeuen yeere wife. I giue ’hem time. Once, within ſeuen yeere, I thinke they may doe ſomething may be laught at. 25 In _France_, I keepe me there, ſtill. Wherefore, wife, Let them that liſt, laugh ſtill, rather then weepe For me; Heere is a cloake coſt fifty pound, wife, Which I can ſell for thirty, when I ha’ ſeene All _London_ in’t, and _London_ has ſeene mee. 30 To day, I goe to the _Black-fryers Play-houſe_, Sit ithe view, ſalute all my acquaintance, Riſe vp betweene the _Acts_, let fall my cloake, Publiſh a handſome man, and a rich ſuite (As that’s a ſpeciall end, why we goe thither, 35 All that pretend, to ſtand for’t o’ the _Stage_) The Ladies aske who’s that? (For, they doe come [106] To ſee vs, _Loue_, as wee doe to ſee them) Now, I ſhall loſe all this, for the falſe feare Of being laught at? Yes, wuſſe. Let ’hem laugh, wife, 40 Let me haue ſuch another cloake to morrow. And let ’hem laugh againe, wife, and againe, And then grow fat with laughing, and then fatter, All my young Gallants, let ’hem bring their friends too: Shall I forbid ’hem? No, let heauen forbid ’hem: 45 Or wit, if’t haue any charge on ’hem. Come, thy eare, wife, Is all, I’ll borrow of thee. Set your watch, Sir, Thou, onely art to heare, not ſpeake a word, _Doue_, To ought he ſayes. That I doe gi’ you in precept, No leſſe then councell, on your wiue-hood, wife, 50 Not though he flatter you, or make court, or _Loue_ (As you muſt looke for theſe) or ſay, he raile; What ere his arts be, wife, I will haue thee Delude ’hem with a trick, thy obſtinate ſilence; I know aduantages; and I loue to hit 55 Theſe pragmaticke young men, at their owne weapons. Is your watch ready? Here my ſaile beares, for you: Tack toward him, ſweet _Pinnace_, where’s your watch?

_He diſpoſes his wife to his place, and ſets his watch._

WIT. I’le ſet it. Sir, with yours.

M^rs. FI. I muſt obey.

MAN. Her modeſty ſeemes to ſuffer with her beauty, 60 And ſo, as if his folly were away, It were worth pitty.

FIT. Now, th’are right, beginne, Sir. But firſt, let me repeat the contract, briefely. _Hee repeats his contract againe._ I am, Sir, to inioy this cloake, I ſtand in, Freely, and as your gift; vpon condition 65 You may as freely, ſpeake here to my ſpouſe, Your quarter of an houre alwaies keeping The meaſur’d diſtance of your yard, or more, From my ſaid Spouſe: and in my ſight and hearing. This is your couenant?

WIT. Yes, but you’ll allow 70 For this time ſpent, now?

FIT. Set ’hem ſo much backe.

WIT. I thinke, I ſhall not need it.

FIT. Well, begin, Sir, There is your bound, Sir. Not beyond that ruſh.

WIT. If you interrupt me, Sir, I ſhall diſcloake you. Wittipol _beginnes_. The time I haue purchaſt, Lady, is but ſhort; 75 And, therefore, if I imploy it thriftily, I hope I ſtand the neerer to my pardon. I am not here, to tell you, you are faire, Or louely, or how well you dreſſe you, Lady, I’ll ſaue my ſelfe that eloquence of your glaſſe, 80 Which can ſpeake these things better to you then I. And ’tis a knowledge, wherein fooles may be As wiſe as a _Count Parliament_. Nor come I, With any preiudice, or doubt, that you [107] Should, to the notice of your owne worth, neede 85 Leaſt reuelation. Shee’s a ſimple woman, Know’s not her good: (who euer knowes her ill) And at all caracts. That you are the wife, To ſo much blaſted fleſh, as ſcarce hath ſoule, In ſtead of ſalt, to keepe it ſweete; I thinke, 90 Will aske no witneſſes, to proue. The cold Sheetes that you lie in, with the watching candle, That ſees, how dull to any thaw of beauty, Pieces, and quarters, halfe, and whole nights, ſometimes, The Diuell-giuen _Elfine_ Squire, your husband, 95 Doth leaue you, quitting heere his proper circle, For a much-worſe i’ the walks of _Lincolnes Inne_, Vnder the Elmes, t’expect the feind in vaine, there Will confeſſe for you.

FIT. I did looke for this geere.

WIT. And what a daughter of darkneſſe, he do’s make you, 100 Lock’d vp from all ſociety, or object; Your eye not let to looke vpon a face, Vnder a Conjurers (or ſome mould for one, Hollow, and leane like his) but, by great meanes, As I now make; your owne too ſenſible ſufferings, 105 Without the extraordinary aydes, Of ſpells, or ſpirits, may aſſure you, Lady. For my part, I proteſt ’gainſt all ſuch practice, I worke by no falſe arts, medicines, or charmes To be said forward and backward.

FIT. No, I except: 110

WIT. Sir I ſhall ease you.

_He offers to diſcloake him._

FIT. Mum.

WIT. Nor haue I ends, Lady, Vpon you, more then this: to tell you how _Loue_ Beauties good Angell, he that waits vpon her At all occaſions, and no leſſe then _Fortune_, Helps th’ aduenturous, in mee makes that proffer, 115 Which neuer faire one was ſo fond, to loſe; Who could but reach a hand forth to her freedome: On the firſt ſight, I lou’d you: ſince which time, Though I haue trauell’d, I haue beene in trauell More for this second blessing of your eyes 120 Which now I’haue purchas’d, then for all aymes elſe. Thinke of it, Lady, be your minde as actiue, As is your beauty: view your object well. Examine both my faſhion, and my yeeres; Things, that are like, are ſoone familiar: 125 And Nature ioyes, ſtill in equality. Let not the ſigne o’ the husband fright you, Lady. But ere your ſpring be gone, inioy it. Flowers, Though faire, are oft but of one morning. Thinke, All beauty doth not laſt vntill the _autumne_. 130 You grow old, while I tell you this. And ſuch, [108] As cannot vſe the preſent, are not wiſe. If Loue and Fortune will take care of vs, Why ſhould our will be wanting? This is all. What doe you anſwer, Lady?

_Shee stands mute._

FIT. Now, the sport comes. 135 Let him ſtill waite, waite, waite: while the watch goes, And the time runs. Wife!

WIT. How! not any word? Nay, then, I taſte a tricke in’t. Worthy Lady, I cannot be ſo falſe to mine owne thoughts Of your preſumed goodneſſe, to conceiue 140 This, as your rudeneſſe, which I ſee’s impos’d. Yet, ſince your cautelous _Iaylor_, here ſtands by you, And yo’ are deni’d the liberty o’ the houſe, Let me take warrant, Lady, from your ſilence, (Which euer is interpreted conſent) 145 To make your anſwer for you: which ſhall be To as good purpoſe, as I can imagine, And what I thinke you’ld ſpeake.

FIT. No, no, no, no.

WIT. I ſhall reſume, S^r.

MAN. Sir, what doe you meane?

_He ſets_ M^r. Manly, _his friend, in her place_.

WIT. One interruption more, Sir, and you goe 150 Into your hoſe and doublet, nothing ſaues you. And therefore harken. This is for your wife.

MAN. You muſt play faire, S^r.

WIT. Stand for mee, good friend. _And ſpeaks for her._ Troth, Sir, tis more then true, that you haue vttred Of my vnequall, and ſo ſordide match heere, 155 With all the circumſtances of my bondage. I haue a husband, and a two-legg’d one, But ſuch a moon-ling, as no wit of man Or roſes can redeeme from being an Aſſe. H’is growne too much, the ſtory of mens mouthes, 160 To ſcape his lading: ſhould I make’t my ſtudy, And lay all wayes, yea, call mankind to helpe, To take his burden off, why, this one act Of his, to let his wife out to be courted, And, at a price, proclaimes his aſinine nature 165 So lowd, as I am weary of my title to him. But Sir, you ſeeme a Gentleman of vertue, No leſſe then blood; and one that euery way Lookes as he were of too good quality, To intrap a credulous woman, or betray her: 170 Since you haue payd thus deare, Sir, for a viſit, And made ſuch venter, on your wit, and charge Meerely to ſee mee, or at moſt to ſpeake to mee, I were too ſtupid; or (what’s worſe) ingrate Not to returne your venter. Thinke, but how, 175 I may with ſafety doe it; I ſhall truſt My loue and honour to you, and preſume; You’ll euer huſband both, againſt this huſband; [109] Who, if we chance to change his liberall eares, To other enſignes, and with labour make 180 A new beaſt of him, as hee ſhall deſerue, Cannot complaine, hee is vnkindly dealth with. This day hee is to goe to a new play, Sir. From whence no feare, no, nor authority, Scarcely the _Kings_ command, Sir, will reſtraine him, 185 Now you haue fitted him with a _Stage_-garment, For the meere names ſake, were there nothing elſe: And many more ſuch iourneyes, hee will make. Which, if they now, or, any time heereafter, Offer vs opportunity, you heare, Sir, 190 Who’ll be as glad, and forward to imbrace, Meete, and enioy it chearefully as you. I humbly thanke you, Lady.

_Hee ſhifts to his owne place againe_

FIT. Keepe your ground Sir.

WIT. Will you be lightned?

FIT. Mum.

WIT. And but I am, By the ſad contract, thus to take my leaue of you 195 At this ſo enuious distance, I had taught Our lips ere this, to ſeale the happy mixture Made of our ſoules. But we muſt both, now, yeeld To the neceſſity. Doe not thinke yet, Lady, But I can kiſſe, and touch, and laugh, and whiſper, 200 And doe those crowning court-ſhips too, for which, Day, and the publike haue allow’d no name But, now, my bargaine binds me. ’Twere rude iniury, T’importune more, or vrge a noble nature, To what of it’s owne bounty it is prone to: 205 Elſe, I ſhould ſpeake--But, Lady, I loue ſo well, As I will hope, you’ll doe ſo to. I haue done, Sir.

FIT. Well, then, I ha’ won?

WIT. Sir, And I may win, too.

FIT. O yes! no doubt on’t. I’ll take carefull order, That ſhee ſhall hang forth enſignes at the window, 210 To tell you when I am abſent. Or I’ll keepe Three or foure foote-men, ready ſtill of purpoſe, To runne and fetch you, at her longings, Sir. I’ll goe beſpeake me ſtraight a guilt caroch, For her and you to take the ayre in. Yes, 215 Into _Hide-parke_, and thence into _Black-Fryers_, Viſit the painters, where you may ſee pictures, And note the propereſt limbs, and how to make ’hem. Or what doe you ſay vnto a middling Goſſip To bring you aye together, at her lodging? 220 Vnder pretext of teaching o’ my wife Some rare receit of drawing _almond_ milke? ha? It shall be a part of my care. Good Sir, God b’w’you. I ha’ kept the contract, and the cloake is mine.

WIT. Why, much good do’t you S^r; it may fall out, [110] 225 That you ha’ bought it deare, though I ha’ not ſold it.

FIT. A pretty riddle! Fare you well, good Sir. Wife, your face this way, looke on me: and thinke Yo’ haue had a wicked dreame, wife, and forget it.

_Hee turnes his wife about._

MAN. This is the ſtrangeſt motion I ere ſaw. 230

FIT. Now, wife, ſits this faire cloake the worſe vpon me, For my great ſufferings, or your little patience? ha? They laugh, you thinke?

M^rs. FI. Why S^r. and you might ſee’t. What thought, they haue of you, may be ſoone collected By the young Genlemans ſpeache.

FIT. Youug Gentleman? 235 Death! you are in loue with him, are you? could he not Be nam’d the Gentleman, without the young? Vp to your Cabbin againe.

M^rs. FI. My cage, yo’ were beſt To call it?

FIT. Yes, ſing there. You’ld faine be making _Blanck Manger_ with him at your mothers! I know you. 240 Goe get you vp. How now! what ſay you, _Diuell_?

[206] SD. om. _Enter_ FITZDOTTRELL, _with Mrs._ FRANCES _his wife_. G

[207] 9 Meetings 1692, 1716 meetings 1641, W, G

[208] 11 I haue] I’ve W haue a] a 1641. f.

[209] 18 SN. om. G

[210] 19 () ret. G

[211] 32 i’ the 1641, 1692, 1716, W in the G

[212] 44 ’hem] ’em G

[213] 46 ’t] it G || ’hem] ’em G

[214] 49 gi’] give G

[215] 51 though 1641, f.

[216] 52 () om. G

[217] 58 SN.] _He disposes his wife to her place._ G

[218] 59 [_Aside._ G

[219] 63 th’art 1641, 1692, 1716 they are W, G SN. om. G

[220] 64 enjoy 1692, f.

[221] 74 SN. om. G

[222] 76 employ W, G

[223] 83 came W

[224] 88 characts 1692 Characts 1716

[225] 99 jeer W, G

[226] 115 adventrous 1692, 1716 advent’rous W || th’] the G

[227] 117 forth] out 1641

[228] 121 I’ haue] I have 1692 I’ve 1716, f.

[229] 127 o’] of G

[230] 134, 5 misplaced t adjusted 1692. f.

[231] 135 SN. om. G

[232] 139 my G

[233] 143 you’re 1716, W you are G

[234] 149, 153 SN. [_Sets Manly in his place, and speaks for the lady._ (after ‘friend.’ 153) G

[235] 154 utt’red 1692 utter’d 1716, f.

[236] 160 He’s 1716, f.

[237] 161 T’ escape W To ’scape 1716

[238] 172, 5 venture 1692, f.

[239] 182 dealt 1692, f.

[240] 187 nothing] no things 1692, 1716

[241] 191 embrace 1692, f.

[242] 193 SN. om. 1641, 1692, 1716 || _Hee_ om. G

[243] 194 lighten’d 1716, f.

[244] 195 sad] said W, G

[245] 211 I am] I’m W

[246] 223 be wi’ G

[247] 224 is mine] is mine owne 1641 is mine own 1692 ’s mine own 1716, W, G

[248] 226 I ha’] I’ve G [_Exit._ G

[249] 229 Ya’ have 1692 You’ve 1716 You W, G SN. om. G

[250] 230 [_Exit._ G

[251] 235 Youug] Young 1641, f. || Gentlmans 1641 Gentleman’s 1692, 1716 gentleman’s W, G

[252] 240 him] it 1641

[253] 241 up.--[_Exit Mrs. Fitz. Enter_ PUG. G

ACT. I. SCENE. VII.

PVG. FITZDOTTREL. INGINE.

Heere is one _Ingine_, Sir, deſires to ſpeake with you.

FIT. I thought he brought ſome newes, of a broker! Well, Let him come in, good _Diuell_: fetch him elſe. O, my fine _Ingine_! what’s th’affaire? more cheats?

ING. No Sir, the Wit, the Braine, the great _Proiector_, 5 I told you of, is newly come to towne.

FIT. Where, _Ingine_?

ING. I ha’ brought him (H’is without) Ere hee pull’d off his boots, Sir, but ſo follow’d, For buſineſſes:

FIT. But what is a _Proiector_? I would conceiue.

ING. Why, one Sir, that proiects 10 Wayes to enrich men, or to make ’hem great, By ſuites, by marriages, by vndertakings: According as he ſees they humour it.

FIT. Can hee not coniure at all?

ING. I thinke he can, Sir. (To tell you true) but, you doe know, of late, 15 The State hath tane ſuch note of ’hem, and compell’d ’hem, To enter ſuch great bonds, they dare not practice.

FIT. ’Tis true, and I lie fallow for’t, the while!

ING. O, Sir! you’ll grow the richer for the reſt.

FIT. I hope I ſhall: but _Ingine_, you doe talke 20 Somewhat too much, o’ my courſes. My Cloake-cuſtomer Could tell mee ſtrange particulars.

ING. By my meanes? [111]

FIT. How ſhould he haue ’hem elſe?

ING. You do not know, S^r, What he has: and by what arts! A monei’d man, Sir, And is as great with your _Almanack-Men_, as you are! 25

FIT. That Gallant?

ING. You make the other wait too long, here: And hee is extreme punctuall.

FIT. Is he a gallant?

ING. Sir, you ſhall ſee: He’is in his riding ſuit, As hee comes now from Court. But heere him ſpeake: Miniſter matter to him, and then tell mee. 30

[254] SD. om. G

[255] 3 _Exit Pug. Re-enter_ ENGINE. G

[256] 4 th’] the G§

[257] 7 H’is] he’s 1716, f. () ret. G

[258] 9 businesse 1641

[259] 12 undertaking 1641

[260] 16 ’hem] ’em G

[261] 21 o’ ret. G

[262] 27 a om. 1692, 1716, W

[263] 28 He’is] He’s 1716 he’s W, G

[264] 30 [_Exeunt._ G

ACT. IJ. SCENE. I.

MEER-CRAFT. FITZ-DOTTREL. INGINE. TRAINES. PVG.

Sir, money’s a whore, a bawd, a drudge; Fit to runne out on errands: Let her goe. _Via pecunia!_ when ſhe’s runne and gone, And fled and dead; then will I fetch her, againe, With _Aqua-vitæ_, out of an old Hogs-head! 5 While there are lees of wine, or dregs of beere, I’le neuer want her! Coyne her out of cobwebs, Duſt, but I’ll haue her! Raiſe wooll vpon egge-ſhells, Sir, and make graſe grow out o’ marro-bones. To make her come. (Commend mee to your Miſtreſſe, 10 _To a waiter._ Say, let the thouſand pound but be had ready, And it is done) I would but ſee the creature (Of fleſh, and blood) the man, the _prince_, indeed, That could imploy ſo many millions As I would help him to.

FIT. How, talks he? millions? 15

MER. (I’ll giue you an account of this to morrow.) Yes, I will talke no leſſe, and doe it too; _To another._ If they were _Myriades_: and without the _Diuell_, By direct meanes, it ſhall be good in law.

ING. Sir. [112]

MER. Tell M^r. _Wood-cock_, I’ll not faile to meet him 20 _To a third._ Vpon th’ _Exchange_ at night. Pray him to haue The writings there, and wee’ll diſpatch it. Sir, _He turnes to_ Fitz-dottrel. You are a Gentleman of a good preſence, A handſome man (I haue conſidered you) As a fit ſtocke to graft honours vpon: 25 I haue a proiect to make you a _Duke_, now. That you muſt be one, within ſo many moneths, As I ſet downe, out of true reaſon of ſtate, You ſha’ not auoyd it. But you muſt harken, then.

ING. Harken? why S^r, do you doubt his eares? Alas! 30 You doe not know Maſter _Fitz-dottrel_.

FIT. He do’s not know me indeed. I thank you, _Ingine_, For rectifying him.

MER. Good! Why, _Ingine_, then _He turnes to_ Ingine. I’le tell it you. (I see you ha’ credit, here, And, that you can keepe counſell, I’ll not queſtion.) 35 Hee ſhall but be an vndertaker with mee, In a moſt feaſible bus’neſſe. It shall cost him Nothing.

ING. Good, S^r.

MER. Except he pleaſe, but’s count’nance; (That I will haue) t’appeare in’t, to great men, For which I’ll make him one. Hee ſhall not draw 40 A ſtring of’s purſe. I’ll driue his pattent for him. We’ll take in Cittizens, _Commoners_, and _Aldermen_, To beare the charge, and blow ’hem off againe, Like ſo many dead flyes, when ’tis carryed. The thing is for recouery of drown’d land, 45 Whereof the _Crowne’s_ to haue his moiety, If it be owner; Elſe, the _Crowne_ and Owners To ſhare that moyety: and the recouerers T’enioy the tother moyety, for their charge.

ING. Thorowout _England_?

MER. Yes, which will ariſe 50 To eyghteene _millions_, ſeuen the firſt yeere: I haue computed all, and made my ſuruay Vnto an acre. I’ll beginne at the Pan, Not, at the skirts: as ſome ha’ done, and loſt, All that they wrought, their timber-worke, their trench, 55 Their bankes all borne away, or elſe fill’d vp By the next winter. Tut, they neuer went The way: I’ll haue it all.

ING. A gallant tract Of land it is!

MER. ’Twill yeeld a pound an acre. Wee muſt let cheape, euer, at firſt. But Sir, 60 This lookes too large for you, I ſee. Come hither, We’ll haue a leſſe. Here’s a plain fellow, you ſee him, Has his black bag of papers, there, in Buckram, Wi’ not be ſold for th’Earledome of _Pancridge_: Draw, Gi’ me out one, by chance. Proiect. 4. _Dog-skinnes?_ 65 Twelue thouſand pound! the very worſt, at firſt. [113]

FIT. Pray, you let’s ſee’t Sir.

MER. ’Tis a toy, a trifle!

FIT. Trifle! 12. thouſand pound for dogs-skins?

MER. Yes, But, by my way of dreſſing, you muſt know, Sir, And med’cining the leather, to a height 70 Of improu’d ware, like your _Borachio_ Of _Spaine_, Sir. I can fetch nine thouſand for’t--

ING. Of the Kings glouer?

MER. Yes, how heard you that?

ING. Sir, I doe know you can.

MER. Within this houre: And reſerue halfe my ſecret. Pluck another; 75 See if thou haſt a happier hand: I thought ſo. _Hee pluckes out the 2. Bottle-ale._ The very next worſe to it! Bottle-ale. Yet, this is two and twenty thouſand! Pr’y thee Pull out another, two or three.

FIT. Good, ſtay, friend, By bottle-ale, two and twenty thouſand pound? 80

MER. Yes, Sir, it’s caſt to penny-hal’penny-farthing, O’ the back-ſide, there you may ſee it, read, I will not bate a _Harrington_ o’ the ſumme. I’ll winne it i’ my water, and my malt, My furnaces, and hanging o’ my coppers, 85 The tonning, and the ſubtilty o’ my yeſt; And, then the earth of my bottles, which I dig, Turne vp, and ſteepe, and worke, and neale, my ſelfe, To a degree of _Porc’lane_. You will wonder, At my proportions, what I will put vp 90 In ſeuen yeeres! for ſo long time, I aske For my inuention. I will ſaue in cork, In my mere ſtop’ling, ’boue three thouſand pound, Within that terme: by googing of ’hem out Iuſt to the ſize of my bottles, and not ſlicing, 95 There’s infinite loſſe i’ that. What haſt thou there? O’ making wine of raiſins: this is in hand, now, _Hee drawes out another_. Raiſines.

ING. Is not that ſtrange, S^r, to make wine of raiſins?

MER. Yes, and as true a wine, as the wines of _France_, Or _Spaine_, or _Italy_, Looke of what grape 100 My raiſin is, that wine I’ll render perfect, As of the _muſcatell_ grape, I’ll render _muſcatell_; Of the _Canary_, his; the _Claret_, his; So of all kinds: and bate you of the prices, Of wine, throughout the kingdome, halfe in halfe. 105

ING. But, how, S^r, if you raiſe the other commodity, Rayſins?

MER. Why, then I’ll make it out of blackberries: And it ſhall doe the ſame. ’Tis but more art, And the charge leſſe. Take out another.

FIT. No, good Sir. Saue you the trouble, I’le not looke, nor heare 110 Of any, but your firſt, there; the _Drown’d-land_: If’t will doe, as you ſay.

MER. Sir, there’s not place, To gi’ you demonſtration of theſe things. [114] They are a little to ſubtle. But, I could ſhew you Such a neceſſity in’t, as you muſt be 115 But what you pleaſe: againſt the receiu’d hereſie, That _England_ beares no Dukes. Keepe you the land, S^r, The greatneſſe of th’ eſtate ſhall throw’t vpon you. If you like better turning it to money, What may not you, S^r, purchaſe with that wealth? 120 Say, you ſhould part with two o’ your millions, To be the thing you would, who would not do’t? As I proteſt, I will, out of my diuident, Lay, for ſome pretty principality, In _Italy_, from the Church: Now, you perhaps, 125 Fancy the ſmoake of _England_, rather? But-- Ha’ you no priuate roome, Sir, to draw to, T’enlarge our ſelues more vpon.

FIT. O yes, _Diuell_!

MER. Theſe, Sir, are bus’neſſes, aske to be carryed With caution, and in cloud.

FIT. I apprehend, 130 They doe ſo, S^r. _Diuell_, which way is your Miſtreſſe?

PVG. Aboue, S^r. in her chamber.

FIT. O that’s well. Then, this way, good, Sir.

MER. I ſhall follow you; _Traines_, Gi’ mee the bag, and goe you preſently, Commend my ſeruice to my Lady _Tail-buſh_. 135 Tell her I am come from Court this morning; ſay, I’haue got our bus’neſſe mou’d, and well: Intreat her, That ſhee giue you the four-ſcore Angels, and ſee ’hem Diſpos’d of to my Councel, Sir _Poul Eytherſide_. Sometime, to day, I’ll waite vpon her Ladiſhip, 140 With the relation.

ING. Sir, of what diſpatch, He is! Do you marke?

MER. _Ingine_, when did you ſee My couſin _Euer-ill_? keepes he ſtill your quarter? I’ the _Bermudas_?

ING. Yes, Sir, he was writing This morning, very hard.

MER. Be not you knowne to him, That I am come to Towne: I haue effected 146 A buſineſſe for him, but I would haue it take him, Before he thinks for’t.

ING. Is it paſt?

MER. Not yet. ’Tis well o’ the way.

ING. O Sir! your worſhip takes Infinit paines.

MER. I loue Friends, to be actiue: 150 A ſluggish nature puts off man, and kinde.

ING. And ſuch a bleſſing followes it.

MER. I thanke My fate. Pray you let’s be priuate, Sir?

FIT. In, here.

MER. Where none may interrupt vs.

FIT. You heare, _Diuel_, Lock the ſtreete-doores faſt, and let no one in 155 (Except they be this Gentlemans followers) To trouble mee. Doe you marke? Yo’ haue heard and ſeene Something, to day; and, by it, you may gather Your Miſtreſſe is a fruite, that’s worth the ſtealing And therefore worth the watching. Be you ſure, now [115] Yo’ haue all your eyes about you; and let in 161 No lace-woman; nor bawd, that brings French-maſques, And cut-works. See you? Nor old croanes, with wafers, To conuey letters. Nor no youths, diſguis’d Like country-wiues, with creame, and marrow-puddings. 165 Much knauery may be vented in a pudding, Much bawdy intelligence: They’are ſhrewd ciphers. Nor turne the key to any neyghbours neede; Be’t but to kindle fire, or begg a little, Put it out, rather: all out, to an aſhe, 170 That they may ſee no ſmoake. Or water, ſpill it: Knock o’ the empty tubs, that by the ſound, They may be forbid entry. Say, wee are robb’d, If any come to borrow a ſpoone, or ſo. I wi’ not haue good fortune, or gods bleſſing 175 Let in, while I am buſie.

PVG. I’le take care, Sir: They ſha’ not trouble you, if they would.

FIT. Well, doe ſo.

[265] SD. MEER. ...] _A Room in_ Fitzdottrel’s _House. Enter_ FITZDOTTREL, ENGINE, _and_ MEERCRAFT, _followed by_ TRAINS _with a bag, and three or four Attendants_. G

[266] 1 ’s] is G

[267] 10 SN. _To_ ...] [_To 1 Attendant._] G

[268] 12 done. [_Exit 1 Attend._] G

[269] 14 employ W, G

[270] 15 How, talks] How talks 1716, f.

[271] 17 SN.] [_To 2 Attendant._] [_Exit 2 Atten._ G || talke] take 1641, 1716, f.

[272] 18 _Myriads_ 1716 Myriads W myriads G

[273] 20 SN. om. 1641, 1692. 1716, W [_to 3 Atten._] G || M^r.] master G passim

[274] 22 it. [_Exit 3 Atten._] G || SN. om. 1641, f.

[275] 24 () om. W

[276] 28 reasons G

[277] 29 sha’] shall G

[278] 33 SN. om. 1641. f.

[279] 34 it om. 1641

[280] 34, 35, 39 () ret. G

[281] 44 ’tis] it is G

[282] 46 his] a 1641, f.

[283] 50 Throughout 1641, 1692, 1716, W Thoroughout G

[284] 53 an] my 1692, f.

[285] 62 fellow, [_points to Trains_] G

[286] 64 Wi’] Will W, G

[287] 65 chance. [_Trains gives him a paper out of the bag._] G || Project; foure 1641 Project: four 1692, 1716 Project four; W Project four: G || Dog-skinnes] dogs-skins 1641 Dogs Skins 1692, 1716 dogs skins W Dogs’ skins G

[288] 67 see’t] see it G

[289] 68 MER. Yes,] included in line 69 1692, 1716, W

[290] 69 my om. 1641

[291] 76 SN. _Hee_ ...] [_Trains draws out another._] (after ‘hand:’ 76) G

[292] 78 Pr’y thee] Pry’thee W Prithee G

[293] 78-80 Pr’y thee--pound? om. 1692, 1716

[294] 81 hal’] half G

[295] 89 Proc’lane 1641 porcelane G

[296] 93 above G

[297] 97 O’] O! G || SN.] [_Trains draws out another._] G

[298] 99 a om. 1641

[299] 103 Of the] Of 1641

[300] 114 subtile 1692, 1716, W

[301] 115 in’t] in it G

[302] 123 Dividend 1716 dividend W, G

[303] 124 petty 1692, 1716, W

[304] 131 so om. G sir.--_Enter_ PUG. G

[305] 137 entreat W, G

[306] 141 relation. [_Exit Trains._ G

[307] 142 mark? [_Aside to Fitz._ G

[308] 150 love] love, 1716, W

[309] 154 us. [_Exeunt Meer. and Engine._ G

[310] 157, 161 Yo’haue] You’ve 1716, W

[311] 169 ’t] it G

[312] 175 will G§ good fortune, gods blessing] G capitalizes throughout.

[313] 177 _Exit._ G SD. om. G

ACT. II. SCENE. II.

PVG. Miſtreſſe FITZDOTTRELL.

I haue no ſingular ſeruice of this, now? Nor no ſuperlatiue Maſter? I ſhall wiſh To be in hell againe, at leaſure? Bring, A _Vice_ from thence? That had bin ſuch a ſubtilty, As to bring broad-clothes hither: or tranſport 5 Freſh oranges into _Spaine_. I finde it, now: My _Chiefe_ was i’ the right. Can any feind Boaſt of a better _Vice_, then heere by nature, And art, th’are owners of? Hell ne’r owne mee, But I am taken! the fine tract of it 10 Pulls mee along! To heare men ſuch profeſſors Growne in our ſubtleſt _Sciences_! My firſt _Act_, now, Shall be, to make this Maſter of mine cuckold: The primitiue worke of darkneſſe, I will practiſe! I will deſerue ſo well of my faire Miſtreſſe, 15 By my diſcoueries, firſt; my counſells after; And keeping counſell, after that: as who, So euer, is one, I’le be another, ſure, I’ll ha’ my ſhare. Most delicate damn’d fleſh! Shee will be! O! that I could ſtay time, now, [116] 20 Midnight will come too faſt vpon mee, I feare, To cut my pleaſure--

M^rs. FI. Looke at the back-doore, _Shee ſends_ Diuell _out_. One knocks, ſee who it is.

PVG. Dainty _ſhe-Diuell_!

M^rs. FI. I cannot get this venter of the cloake, Out of my fancie; nor the Gentlemans way, 25 He tooke, which though ’twere ſtrange, yet ’twas handſome, And had a grace withall, beyond the newneſſe. Sure he will thinke mee that dull ſtupid creature, Hee ſaid, and may conclude it; if I finde not Some thought to thanke th’ attemp. He did preſume, 30 By all the carriage of it, on my braine, For anſwer; and will ſweare ’tis very barren, If it can yeeld him no returne. Who is it?

Diuell _returnes_.

PVG. Miſtreſſe, it is, but firſt, let me aſſure The excellence, of Miſtreſſes, I am, 35 Although my Maſters man, my Miſstreſſe ſlaue, The ſeruant of her ſecrets, and ſweete turnes, And know, what fitly will conduce to either.

M^rs. FI. What’s this? I pray you come to your ſelfe and thinke What your part is: to make an anſwer. Tell, 40 Who is it at the doore?

PVG. The Gentleman, M^rs, Who was at the cloake-charge to ſpeake with you, This morning, who expects onely to take Some ſmall command’ments from you, what you pleaſe, Worthy your forme, hee ſaies, and gentleſt manners. 45

M^rs. FI. O! you’ll anon proue his hyr’d man, I feare, What has he giu’n you, for this meſſage? Sir, Bid him put off his hopes of ſtraw, and leaue To ſpread his nets, in view, thus. Though they take Maſter _Fitz-dottrell_, I am no ſuch foule, 50 Nor faire one, tell him, will be had with ſtalking. And wiſh him to for-beare his acting to mee, At the Gentlemans chamber-window in _Lincolnes-Inne_ there, That opens to my gallery: elſe, I ſweare T’acquaint my huſband with his folly, and leaue him 55 To the iuſt rage of his offended iealouſie. Or if your Maſters ſenſe be not ſo quicke To right mee, tell him, I ſhall finde a friend That will repaire mee. Say, I will be quiet. In mine owne houſe? Pray you, in thoſe words giue it him. 60

PVG. This is ſome foole turn’d!

_He goes out._

M^rs. FI. If he be the Maſter, Now, of that ſtate and wit, which I allow him; Sure, hee will vnderſtand mee: I durſt not Be more direct. For this officious fellow, My husbands new groome, is a ſpie vpon me, 65 I finde already. Yet, if he but tell him This in my words, hee cannot but conceiue [117] Himſelfe both apprehended, and requited. I would not haue him thinke hee met a _ſtatue_: Or ſpoke to one, not there, though I were ſilent. 70 How now? ha’ you told him?

PVG. Yes.

M^rs. FI. And what ſaies he?

PVG. Sayes he? That which my ſelf would ſay to you, if I durſt. That you are proude, ſweet Miſtreſſe? and with-all, A little ignorant, to entertaine The good that’s proffer’d; and (by your beauties leaue) 75 Not all ſo wiſe, as ſome true politique wife Would be: who hauing match’d with ſuch a _Nupſon_ (I ſpeake it with my Maſters peace) whoſe face Hath left t’accuſe him, now, for’t doth confeſſe him, What you can make him; will yet (out of ſcruple, 80 And a ſpic’d conſcience) defraud the poore Gentleman, At leaſt delay him in the thing he longs for, And makes it hs whole ſtudy, how to compaſſe, Onely a title. Could but he write _Cuckold_, He had his ends. For, looke you--

M^rs. FI. This can be 85 None but my husbands wit.

PVG. My pretious M^rs.

M. FI. It creaks his _Ingine_: The groome neuer durſt Be, elſe, so ſaucy--

PVG. If it were not clearely, His worſhipfull ambition; and the top of it; The very forked top too: why ſhould hee 90 Keepe you, thus mur’d vp in a back-roome, Miſtreſſe, Allow you ne’r a caſement to the ſtreete, Feare of engendering by the eyes, with gallants, Forbid you paper, pen and inke, like Rats-bane. Search your halfe pint of _muſcatell_, leſt a letter 95 Be ſuncke i’ the pot: and hold your new-laid egge Againſt the fire, leſt any charme be writ there? Will you make benefit of truth, deare Miſtreſſe, If I doe tell it you: I do’t not often? I am ſet ouer you, imploy’d, indeed, 100 To watch your ſteps, your lookes, your very breathings, And to report them to him. Now, if you Will be a true, right, delicate ſweete Miſtreſſe, Why, wee will make a _Cokes_ of this _Wiſe Maſter_, We will, my Miſtreſſe, an abſolute fine _Cokes_, 105 And mock, to ayre, all the deepe diligences Of ſuch a ſolemne, and effectuall Aſſe, An Aſſe to ſo good purpoſe, as wee’ll vſe him. I will contriue it ſo, that you ſhall goe To _Playes_, to _Maſques_, to _Meetings_, and to _Feaſts_. 110 For, why is all this Rigging, and fine Tackle, Miſtris, If you neat handſome veſſells, of good ſayle, Put not forth euer, and anon, with your nets Abroad into the world. It is your fiſhing. [118] There, you ſhal chooſe your friends, your ſeruants, Lady, Your ſquires of honour; I’le conuey your letters, 116 Fetch anſwers, doe you all the offices, That can belong to your bloud, and beauty. And, For the variety, at my times, although I am not in due _ſymmetrie_, the man 120 Of that proportion; or in rule Of _phyſicke_, of the iuſt complexion: Or of that truth of _Picardill_, in clothes, To boaſt a ſoueraignty o’re Ladies: yet I know, to do my turnes, ſweet Miſtreſſe. Come, kiſſe--

M^rs. FI. How now!

PVG. Deare delicate Miſt. I am your ſlaue, 126 Your little _worme_, that loues you: your fine _Monkey_; Your _Dogge_, your _Iacke_, your _Pug_, that longs to be Stil’d, o’ your pleaſures.

M^rs. FIT. Heare you all this? Sir, Pray you, Come from your ſtanding, doe, a little, ſpare 130 _Shee thinkes her huſband watches._ Your ſelfe, Sir, from your watch, t’applaud your _Squire_, That ſo well followes your inſtructions!

[314] 5 cloths G

[315] 9 they’re 1716, f. || never G

[316] 18 I will G

[317] 22 pleasure--_Enter Mrs._ FITZDOTTREL. SN. om. G

[318] 23 [_Aside and exit._ G

[319] 24 venture 1692, f.

[320] 26 it was G

[321] 30 attempt 1641, f.

[322] 33 SN.] _Re-enter_ PUG. G

[323] 34 it is,] it is--W

[324] 41 it om. 1692, f. || M^rs] Mistresse 1641 Mistris 1692 Mistress 1716 mistress W, G

[325] 48 put 1641, f.

[326] 59 Period om. after ‘quiet’ 1716, f.

[327] 61 SN.] [_Exit._ G

[328] 70 _Re-enter_ PUG. G

[329] 78, 80, 81 () ret. G

[330] 79 ’t] it G

[331] 84 hs] his 1641, f.

[332] 86 M^rs. as in 2. 2. 41 || wit. [_Aside._ G

[333] 88 saucy. [_Aside_. G

[334] 91 black Room 1716

[335] 93 engendring 1641

[336] 100 employ’d 1716, f.

[337] 112 your G

[338] 123 _Piccardell_ 1641

[339] 126 Mist.] as in 2. 2. 41

[340] 130 _Mrs. Fitz._ [_aloud_]

[341] 131 SN. om. G

ACT. II. SCENE. III.

FITZ-DOTTRELL. Miſtreſſe FITZ-DOTTREL. PVG.

How now, ſweet heart? what’s the matter?

M^rs. FI. Good! You are a ſtranger to the plot! you ſet not Your fancy _Diuell_, here, to tempt your wife, With all the inſolent vnciuill language, Or action, he could vent?

FIT. Did you so, _Diuell_? 5

M^rs. FIT. Not you? you were not planted i’ your hole to heare him, Vpo’ the ſtayres? or here, behinde the hangings? I doe not know your qualities? he durſt doe it, And you not giue directions?

FIT. You shall ſee, wife, Whether he durſt, or no: and what it was, 10 I did direct.

_Her huſband goes out, and enters presently with a cudgell vpon him._

PVG. Sweet Miſtreſſe, are you mad?

FIT. You moſt mere Rogue! you open manifeſt Villaine! You Feind apparant you! you declar’d Hel-hound!

PVG. Good S^r.

FIT. Good Knaue, good Raſcal, and good Traitor. Now, I doe finde you parcel-_Diuell_, indeed. 15 Vpo’ the point of truſt? I’ your firſt charge? The very day o’ your probation? To tempt your Miſtreſſe? You doe ſee, good wedlocke, How I directed him.

M^rs. FIT. Why, where S^r? were you? [119]

FIT. Nay, there is one blow more, for exerciſe: 20 _After a pause. He ſtrikes him againe_ I told you, I ſhould doe it.

PVG. Would you had done, Sir.

FIT. O wife, the rareſt man! yet there’s another To put you in mind o’ the laſt, ſuch a braue man, wife! Within, he has his proiects, and do’s vent ’hem, _and againe._ The gallanteſt! where you _tentiginous_? ha? 25 Would you be acting of the _Incubus_? Did her ſilks ruſtling moue you?

PVG. Gentle Sir.

FIT. Out of my ſight. If thy name were not _Diuell_, Thou ſhouldſt not ſtay a minute with me. In, Goe, yet ſtay: yet goe too. I am reſolu’d. 30 What I will doe: and you ſhall know’t afore-hand. Soone as the Gentleman is gone, doe you heare? I’ll helpe your liſping. Wife, ſuch a man, wife! Diuell _goes out_. He has ſuch plots! He will make mee a _Duke_! No leſſe, by heauen! ſix Mares, to your coach, wife! 35 That’s your proportion! And your coach-man bald! Becauſe he ſhall be bare, inough. Doe not you laugh, We are looking for a place, and all, i’ the map What to be of. Haue faith, be not an Infidell. You know, I am not eaſie to be gull’d. 40 I ſweare, when I haue my _millions_, elſe. I’ll make Another _Dutcheſſe_: if you ha’ not faith.

M^rs. FI. You’ll ha’ too much, I feare, in theſe falſe ſpirits.

FIT. Spirits? O, no such thing! wife! wit, mere wit! This man defies the _Diuell_, and all his works! 45 He dos’t by _Ingine_, and deuiſes, hee! He has his winged ploughes, that goe with ſailes, Will plough you forty acres, at once! and mills. Will ſpout you water, ten miles off! All _Crowland_ Is ours, wife; and the fens, from vs, in _Norfolke_, 50 To the vtmoſt bound of _Lincoln-ſhire_! we haue view’d it, And meaſur’d it within all; by the ſcale! The richeſt tract of land, Loue, i’ the kingdome! There will be made ſeuenteene, or eighteene _millions_; Or more, as’t may be handled! wherefore, thinke, 55 Sweet heart, if th’ haſt a fancy to one place, More then another, to be _Dutcheſſe_ of; Now, name it: I will ha’t what ere it coſt, (If’t will be had for money) either here, 59 Or’n _France_, or _Italy_.

M^rs. FI. You ha’ ſtrange phantaſies!

[342] SD. om. _Enter_ FITZDOTTREL. G

[343] 1 ’s] is G

[344] 2 set] see W

[345] 7 upon G§

[346] 10, 11 Whether ... direct.] All in line 10. 1692, 1716

[347] 11 SN.] [_Exit. Re-enter_ FITZDOTTREL _with a cudgel_. G

[348] 18 mistress! [_Beats Pug._ G

[349] 20 SN.] [_Strikes him again._ G

[350] 22, 23 yet ... last] euclosed by () W, G

[351] 23 o’ ret. G

[352] 25 where] were 1716, W Were G

[353] 24 SN.] [_Beats him again._] G

[354] 33 SN.] [_Exit Pug._] G

[355] 46 _Engine_ 1716 Engine W engine G

[356] 51 bounds 1692, f. || of] in G

[357] 56 th’] thou G

[358] 58 have ’t G

[359] 60 Or’n] Or’in 1692 Or in 1716, f.

ACT. II. SCENE. IV.

MERE-CRAFT. FITZ-DOTTRELL. INGINE.

Where are you, Sir?

FIT. I ſee thou haſt no _talent_ [120] This way, wife. Vp to thy gallery; doe, _Chuck_, Leaue vs to talke of it, who vnderſtand it.

MER. I thinke we ha’ found a place to fit you, now, Sir. _Gloc’ſter_.

FIT. O, no, I’ll none!

MER. Why, S^r?

FIT. Tis fatall. 5

MER. That you ſay right in. _Spenſer_, I thinke, the younger, Had his laſt honour thence. But, he was but _Earle_.

FIT. I know not that, Sir. But _Thomas_ of _Woodſtocke_, I’m ſure, was _Duke_, and he was made away, At _Calice_; as _Duke Humphrey_ was at _Bury_: 10 And _Richard_ the third, you know what end he came too.

MER. By m’faith you are cunning i’ the _Chronicle_, Sir.

FIT. No, I confeſſe I ha’t from the _Play-bookes_, And thinke they’are more _authentique_.

ING. That’s ſure, Sir.

MER. What ſay you (to this then)

_He whiſpers him of a place._

FIT. No, a noble houſe. 15 Pretends to that. I will doe no man wrong.

MER. Then take one propoſition more, and heare it As paſt exception.

FIT. What’s that?

MER. To be _Duke_ of thoſe lands, you ſhall recouer; take Your title, thence, Sir, _Duke_ of the _Drown’d lands_, 20 Or _Drown’d-land_.

FIT. Ha? that laſt has a good ſound! I like it well. The _Duke_ of _Drown’d-land_?

ING. Yes; It goes like _Groen-land_, Sir, if you marke it.

MER. I, And drawing thus your honour from the worke, You make the reputation of that, greater; 25 And ſtay’t the longer i’ your name.

FIT. ’Tis true. _Drown’d-lands_ will liue in _Drown’d-land_!

MER. Yes, when you Ha’ no foote left; as that muſt be, Sir, one day. And, though it tarry in your heyres, some _forty_, _Fifty_ deſcents, the longer liuer, at laſt, yet, 30 Muſt thruſt ’hem out on’t: if no quirk in law, Or odde _Vice_ o’ their owne not do’it firſt. Wee ſee thoſe changes, daily: the faire lands, That were the _Clyents_, are the _Lawyers_, now: And thoſe rich Mannors, there, of good man _Taylors_, 35 Had once more wood vpon ’hem, then the yard, By which th’ were meaſur’d out for the laſt purchaſe. [121] Nature hath theſe viciſſitudes. Shee makes No man a ſtate of perpetuety, Sir.

FIT. Yo’ are i’ the right. Let’s in then, and conclude. 40 _Hee ſpies_ Diuell. I my ſight, againe? I’ll talke with you, anon.

[360] SD. ACT. ...] om. _Enter_ MEERCRAFT _and_ ENGINE. G

[361] 3 [_Exit Mrs. Fitz._ G

[362] 6 comma after ‘thinke’ om. 1692, f.

[363] 12 m’] my W, G

[364] 13 have it G

[365] 14,18 ’s] is W, G

[366] 15 SN.] [_whispers him._] G

[367] 15 period after ‘house’ om. 1716, f.

[368] 26 ’t] it G

[369] 32 do’t 1641

[370] 37 th’] they G

[371] 40 You’re 1716, W || SN.] _Re-enter_ PUG. G

[372] 41 [_Exeunt Fitz. Meer. and Engine._ G || I] I’ 1716, W In G

ACT. II. SCENE. V.

PVG.

Svre hee will geld mee, if I stay: or worſe, Pluck out my tongue, one o’ the two. This Foole, There is no truſting of him: and to quit him, Were a contempt againſt my _Chiefe_, paſt pardon. It was a ſhrewd diſheartning this, at firſt! 5 Who would ha’ thought a woman ſo well harneſs’d, Or rather well-capariſon’d, indeed, That weares ſuch petticoates, and lace to her ſmocks, Broad ſeaming laces (as I ſee ’hem hang there) And garters which are loſt, if ſhee can ſhew ’hem, 10 Could ha’ done this? _Hell!_ why is ſhee ſo braue? It cannot be to pleaſe _Duke Dottrel_, ſure, Nor the dull pictures, in her gallery, Nor her owne deare reflection, in her glaſſe; Yet that may be: I haue knowne many of ’hem, 15 Beginne their pleaſure, but none end it, there: (That I conſider, as I goe a long with it) They may, for want of better company, Or that they thinke the better, ſpend an houre; Two, three, or foure, diſcourſing with their ſhaddow: 20 But ſure they haue a farther ſpeculation. No woman dreſt with ſo much care, and ſtudy, Doth dreſſe her ſelfe in vaine. I’ll vexe this _probleme_, A little more, before I leaue it, ſure.

[373] SD. om. G

[374] 5 disheartening G

[375] 9 () ret. G

[376] 17 () ret. G

[377] 24 [_Exit._ G

ACT. IJ. SCENE. VI.

WITTIPOL. MANLY. Miſtreſſe FITZ-DOTTREL. PVG.

This was a fortune, happy aboue thought, [122] That this ſhould proue thy chamber: which I fear’d Would be my greateſt trouble! this muſt be The very window, and that the roome.

MAN. It is. I now remember, I haue often ſeene there 5 A woman, but I neuer mark’d her much.

WIT. Where was your ſoule, friend?

MAN. Faith, but now, and then, Awake vnto thoſe obiects.

WIT. You pretend ſo. Let mee not liue, if I am not in loue More with her wit, for this direction, now, 10 Then with her forme, though I ha’ prais’d that prettily, Since I ſaw her, and you, to day. Read thoſe. _Hee giues him a paper, wherein is the copy of a Song._ They’ll goe vnto the ayre you loue ſo well. Try ’hem vnto the note, may be the muſique Will call her ſooner; light, ſhee’s here. Sing quickly. 15

M^rs. FIT. Either he vnderſtood him not: or elſe, The fellow was not faithfull in deliuery, Of what I bad. And, I am iuſtly pay’d, That might haue made my profit of his ſeruice, But, by miſ-taking, haue drawne on his enuy, 20 And done the worſe defeate vpon my ſelfe. Manly _ſings_, Pug _enters perceiues it_. How! Muſique? then he may be there: and is sure.

PVG. O! Is it ſo? Is there the enter-view? Haue I drawne to you, at laſt, my cunning _Lady_? The _Diuell_ is an _Aſſe_! fool’d off! and beaten! 25 Nay, made an inſtrument! and could not ſent it! Well, ſince yo’ haue ſhowne the malice of a woman, No leſſe then her true wit, and learning, Miſtreſſe, I’ll try, if little _Pug_ haue the malignity To recompence it, and ſo ſaue his danger. 30 ’Tis not the paine, but the diſcredite of it, The _Diuell_ ſhould not keepe a body intire.

WIT. Away, fall backe, ſhe comes.

MAN. I’ll leaue you, Sir, The Maſter of my chamber. I haue buſineſſe.

WIT. M^rs!

M^rs. FI. You make me paint, S^r.

WIT. The’are faire colours, 35 _Lady_, and naturall! I did receiue Some commands from you, lately, gentle _Lady_, [123] _This Scene is acted at two windo’s as out of_ _two contiguous buildings._ But ſo perplex’d, and wrap’d in the deliuery, As I may feare t’haue miſ-interpreted: But muſt make ſuit ſtill, to be neere your grace. 40

M^rs. FI. Who is there with you, S^r?

WIT. None, but my ſelfe. It falls out. _Lady_, to be a deare friends lodging. Wherein there’s ſome conſpiracy of fortune With your poore ſeruants bleſ affections.

M^rs. FI. Who was it ſung?

WIT. He, _Lady_, but hee’s gone, 45 Vpon my entreaty of him, ſeeing you Approach the window. Neither need you doubt him, If he were here. He is too much a gentleman.

M^rs. FI. Sir, if you iudge me by this ſimple action, And by the outward habite, and complexion 50 Of eaſineſſe, it hath, to your deſigne; You may with Iuſtice, ſay, I am a woman: And a ſtrange woman. But when you ſhall pleaſe, To bring but that concurrence of my fortune, To memory, which to day your ſelfe did vrge: 55 It may beget ſome fauour like excuſe, Though none like reaſon.

WIT. No, my tune-full Miſtreſſe? Then, ſurely, _Loue_ hath none: nor _Beauty_ any; Nor _Nature_ violenced, in both theſe: With all whoſe gentle tongues you ſpeake, at once. 60 I thought I had inough remou’d, already, That ſcruple from your breſt, and left yo’ all reaſon; When, through my mornings perſpectiue I ſhewd you A man ſo aboue excuſe, as he is the cauſe, Why any thing is to be done vpon him: 65 And nothing call’d an iniury, miſ-plac’d. I’rather, now had hope, to ſhew you how _Loue_ By his acceſſes, growes more naturall: And, what was done, this morning, with ſuch force Was but deuis’d to ſerue the preſent, then. 70 That ſince _Loue_ hath the honour to approach _He grows more familiar in his Court-ſhip._ Theſe ſiſter-ſwelling breſts; and touch this ſoft, And roſie hand; hee hath the skill to draw Their _Nectar_ forth, with kiſſing; and could make More wanton ſalts, from this braue promontory, 75 Downe to this valley, then the nimble _Roe_; _playes with her paps, kiſſeth her hands, &c._ Could play the hopping _Sparrow_, ’bout theſe nets; And ſporting _Squirell_ in theſe criſped groues; Bury himſelfe in euery _Silke-wormes_ kell, Is here vnrauell’d; runne into the ſnare, 80 Which euery hayre is, caſt into a curle, To catch a _Cupid_ flying: Bath himselfe In milke, and roſes, here, and dry him, there; Warme his cold hands, to play with this ſmooth, round, [124] And well torn’d chin, as with the _Billyard_ ball; 85 Rowle on theſe lips, the banks of loue, and there At once both plant, and gather kiſſes. _Lady_, Shall I, with what I haue made to day here, call All ſenſe to wonder, and all faith to ſigne The myſteries reuealed in your forme? 90 And will _Loue_ pardon mee the blasphemy I vtter’d, when I ſaid, a glaſſe could ſpeake This beauty, or that fooles had power to iudge it?

_Doe but looke, on her eyes! They doe light-- All that_ Loue’s _world comprizeth! 95 Doe but looke on her hayre! it is bright, As_ Loue’s _ſtarre, when it riſeth! Doe but marke, her fore-head’s ſmoother, Then words that ſooth her! And from her arched browes, ſuch a grace 100 Sheds it ſelfe through the face; As alone, there triumphs to the life, All the gaine, all the good, of the elements ſtrife!_

_Haue you ſeene but a bright Lilly grow, Before rude hands haue touch’d it? 105 Haue you mark’d but the fall of the Snow, Before the ſoyle hath ſmuch’d it? Haue you felt the wooll o’ the Beuer? Or Swans downe, euer? Or, haue ſmelt o’ the bud o’ the Bryer? 110 Or the Nard i’ the fire? Or, haue taſted the bag o’ the Bee? O, ſo white! O, ſo ſoft! O, ſo ſweet is ſhee!_

[378] SD. ACT. ...] om. SCENE II. Manly’s _Chambers in Lincoln’s Inn, opposite_ Fitzdottrel’s _House. Enter_ WITTIPOL _and_ MANLY. G

[379] 12 SN.] [_Gives him the copy of a song._ G

[380] 15 _Mrs._ FITZDOTTREL _appears at a window of her house fronting that of Manly’s Chambers_. G

[381] 21 worst W || SN. _enters_] _enters and_ 1716, W || Manly ...] _Manly sings. Enter_ PUG _behind_. G

[382] 23 interview W, G

[383] 24 least W

[384] 27 you’ve 1716, W

[385] 32 entire W, G || [_Aside and exit._ G

[386] 33 I’ll] I W, G

[387] 34 [_Exit_. G

[388] 35 M^rs!] Mis! 1641 the rest as in 2. 2. 41 || They’re 1716, W they are G || _Mrs. Fitz._ [_advances to the window._] G

[389] 35, 36 The’are ... receiue] one line 1692, 1716, W

[390] 37 SN. om. G

[391] 39 t’] to 1692, f.

[392] 62 y’all 1716, W

[393] 64 he’s W, G

[394] 71, 76 SN. om. G

[395] 75 ’salts 1692 ’saults 1716

[396] 81 is, cast] is cast 1716, W

[397] 88 I’ve W

[398] 98 head’s] head 1641

[399] 100 a om. 1641

[400] 106 of the] the 1641

[401] 108, 112 o’] of W

[402] 108 Beuer] beaver W, G

[403] 110 smelt o’ret. G

ACT. II. SCENE. VII.

FITZ-DOTTRELL. WITTIPOL. PVG.

_Her huſband appeares at her back._ Is shee ſo, Sir? and, I will keepe her ſo. If I know how, or can: that wit of man Will doe’t, I’ll goe no farther. At this windo’ She ſhall no more be _buz’d_ at. Take your leaue on’t. If you be ſweet meates, wedlock, or ſweet fleſh, 5 All’s one: I doe not loue this _hum_ about you. A flye-blowne wife is not ſo proper, In: [125] For you, S^r, looke to heare from mee.

_Hee ſpeakes out of his wiues window._

WIT. So, I doe, Sir.

FIT. No, but in other termes. There’s no man offers This to my wife, but paies for’t.

WIT. That haue I, Sir.

FIT. Nay, then, I tell you, you are.

WIT. What am I, Sir? 11

FIT. Why, that I’ll thinke on, when I ha’ cut your throat.

WIT. Goe, you are an _Aſſe_.

FIT. I am reſolu’d on’t, Sir.

WIT. I thinke you are.

FIT. To call you to a reckoning.

WIT. Away, you brokers blocke, you property. 15

FIT. S’light, if you ſtrike me, I’ll ſtrike your Miſtreſſe.

_Hee ſtrikes his wife._

WIT. O! I could ſhoote mine eyes at him, for that, now; Or leaue my teeth in’him, were they cuckolds bane, Inough to kill him. What prodigious, Blinde, and moſt wicked change of fortune’s this? 20 I ha’ no ayre of patience: an my vaines Swell, and my ſinewes ſtart at iniquity of it. I ſhall breake, breake.

_The_ Diuell _ſpeakes below_.

PVG. This for the malice of it, And my reuenge may paſſe! But, now, my conſcience Tells mee, I haue profited the cauſe of Hell 25 But little, in the breaking-off their loues. Which, if some other act of mine repaire not, I ſhall heare ill of in my accompt.

Fitz-dottrel _enters with his wife as come downe_.

FIT. O, Bird! Could you do this? ’gainſt me? and at this time, now? When I was ſo imploy’d, wholly for you, 30 Drown’d i’ my care (more, then the land, I ſweare, I’haue hope to win) to make you peere-leſſe? ſtudying, For footemen for you, fine pac’d huiſhers, pages, To ſerue you o’ the knee; with what Knights wife, To beare your traine, and ſit with your foure women 35 In councell, and receiue intelligences, From forraigne parts, to dreſſe you at all pieces! Y’haue (a’moſt) turn’d my good affection, to you; Sowr’d my ſweet thoughts; all my pure purpoſes: I could now finde (i’ my very heart) to make 40 Another, _Lady Dutcheſſe_; and depoſe you. Well, goe your waies in. _Diuell_, you haue redeem’d all. I doe forgiue you. And I’ll doe you good.

[404] SD. om. SN.] FITZ-DOTTRELL _appears at his Wife’s back_. G

[405] 8 SN. om. G || you,] you, you, W, G

[406] 11 are.] are--W, G

[407] 13 Sir.] Sir--Ed.

[408] 16 I will W, G

[409] 16 SN.] [_Strikes Mrs. Fitz. and leads her out._ G

[410] 17 my 1641

[411] 22 th’iniquity G

[412] 23 SN. om [_Exit._ SCENE III. _Another Room in_ Fitzdottrel’s _House. Enter_ PUG. G

[413] 28 in om. 1641 || SN.] _Enter_ FITZDOTTREL _and his wife_. G

[414] 30 employ’d 1716, f.

[415] 31, 32 () ret. G

[416] 38 You’ve 1716, f. || almost W, G

[417] 42 [_Exit Mrs. Fitz._] G

[418] 43 [_Exit Pug._ G

ACT. II. SCENE. VIIJ.

MERE-CRAFT. FITZ-DOTTREL. INGINE. TRAINES.

Why ha you theſe excurſions? where ha’ you beene, Sir? [126]

FIT. Where I ha’ beene vex’d a little, with a toy!

MER. O Sir! no toyes muſt trouble your graue head, Now it is growing to be great. You muſt Be aboue all thoſe things.

FIT. Nay, nay, ſo I will. 5

MER. Now you are to’ard the Lord, you muſt put off The man, Sir.

ING. He ſaies true.

MER. You muſt do nothing As you ha’ done it heretofore; not know, Or ſalute any man.

ING. That was your bed-fellow, The other moneth.

MER. The other moneth? the weeke. 10 Thou doſt not know the priueledges, _Ingine_, Follow that Title; nor how ſwift: To day, When he has put on his Lords face once, then--

FIT. Sir, for theſe things I ſhall doe well enough, There is no feare of me. But then, my wife is 15 Such an vntoward thing! ſhee’ll neuer learne How to comport with it. I am out of all Conceipt, on her behalfe.

MER. Beſt haue her taught, Sir.

FIT. Where? Are there any Schooles for _Ladies_? Is there An _Academy_ for women? I doe know, 20 For men, there was: I learn’d in it, my ſelfe, To make my legges, and doe my poſtures.

ING. Sir. Doe you remember the conceipt you had-- O’ the Spaniſh gowne, at home?

Ingine _whiſpers_ Merecraft, Merecraft _turnes to_ Fitz-dottrel.

MER. Ha! I doe thanke thee, With all my heart, deare _Ingine_. Sir, there is 25 A certaine _Lady_, here about the Towne, An _Engliſh_ widdow, who hath lately trauell’d, But ſhee’s call’d the _Spaniard_; cauſe ſhe came Lateſt from thence: and keepes the _Spaniſh_ habit. Such a rare woman! all our women heere, 30 That are of ſpirit, and faſhion flocke, vnto her, As to their Preſident; their _Law_; their _Canon_; More then they euer did, to _Oracle-Foreman_. Such rare receipts ſhee has, Sir, for the face; Such _oyles_; such _tinctures_; such _pomatumn’s_; 35 Such _perfumes_; _med’cines_; _quinteſſences_, _&c._ And ſuch a Miſtreſſe of behauiour; [127] She knowes, from the _Dukes_ daughter, to the Doxey, What is their due iuſt: and no more!

FIT. O Sir! You pleaſe me i’ this, more then mine owne greatneſſe, 40 Where is ſhee? Let vs haue her.

MER. By your patience, We muſt vſe meanes; caſt how to be acquainted--

FIT. Good, S^r, about it.

MER. We muſt think how, firſt.

FIT. O! I doe not loue to tarry for a thing, When I haue a mind to’t. You doe not know me. 45 If you doe offer it.

MER. Your wife muſt ſend Some pretty token to her, with a complement, And pray to be receiu’d in her good graces, All the great _Ladies_ do’t.

FIT. She ſhall, ſhe ſhall, What were it beſt to be?

MER. Some little toy, 50 I would not haue it any great matter, Sir: A _Diamant_ ring, of _forty_ or _fifty_ pound, Would doe it handſomely: and be a gift Fit for your wife to ſend, and her to take.

FIT. I’ll goe, and tell my wife on’t, ſtreight. 55

Fitz-dottrel _goes out_.

MER. Why this Is well! The clothes we’haue now: But, where’s this _Lady_? If we could get a witty boy, now, _Ingine_; That were an excellent cracke: I could inſtruct him, To the true height. For any thing takes this _dottrel_.

ING. Why, Sir your beſt will be one o’ the players! 60

MER. No, there’s no truſting them. They’ll talke on’t, And tell their _Poets_.

ING. What if they doe? The ieſt will brooke the Stage. But, there be ſome of ’hem Are very honeſt Lads. There’s _Dicke Robinſon_ A very pretty fellow, and comes often 65 To a Gentlemans chamber, a friends of mine. We had The merrieſt ſupper of it there, one night, The Gentlemans Land-lady invited him To’a Goſſips feaſt. Now, he Sir brought _Dick Robinſon_, Dreſt like a Lawyers wife, amongſt ’hem all; 70 (I lent him cloathes) but, to ſee him behaue it; And lay the law; and carue; and drinke vnto ’hem; And then talke baudy: and ſend frolicks! o! It would haue burſt your buttons, or not left you A ſeame.

MER. They ſay hee’s an ingenious youth! 75

ING. O Sir! and dreſſes himſelfe, the beſt! beyond Forty o’ your very _Ladies_! did you ne’r ſee him?

MER. No, I do ſeldome ſee thoſe toyes. But thinke you, That we may haue him?

ING. Sir, the young Gentleman I tell you of, can command him. Shall I attempt it? 80

MER. Yes, doe it.

_Enters againe._

FIT. S’light, I cannot get my wife To part with a ring, on any termes: and yet, The ſollen _Monkey_ has two.

MER. It were ’gainst reaſon That you ſhould vrge it; Sir, ſend to a Gold-ſmith, [128] Let not her loſe by’t.

FIT. How do’s ſhe loſe by’t? 85 Is’t not for her?

MER. Make it your owne bounty, It will ha’ the better ſucceſſe; what is a matter Of _fifty_ pound to you, S^r.

FIT. I’haue but a hundred _Pieces_, to ſhew here; that I would not breake--

MER. You ſhall ha’ credit, Sir. I’ll ſend a ticket 90 Vnto my Gold-ſmith. Heer, my man comes too, To carry it fitly. How now, _Traines_? What birds?

Traines _enters_.

TRA. Your Couſin _Euer-ill_ met me, and has beat mee, Becauſe I would not tell him where you were: I thinke he has dogd me to the houſe too.

FIT. Well-- 95 You ſhall goe out at the back-doore, then, _Traines_. You muſt get _Guilt-head_ hither, by ſome meanes:

TRA. ’Tis impoſſible!

FIT. Tell him, we haue _veniſon_, I’ll g’ him a piece, and ſend his wife a _Pheſant_.

TRA. A Forreſt moues not, till that _forty_ pound, 100 Yo’ had of him, laſt, be pai’d. He keepes more ſtirre, For that ſame petty ſumme, then for your bond Of _ſixe_; and _Statute_ of _eight_ hundred!

FIT. Tell him Wee’ll hedge in that. Cry vp _Fitz-dottrell_ to him, Double his price: Make him a man of mettall. 105

TRA. That will not need, his bond is current inough.

[419] SD. ACT. ...] om. _Enter_ MEERCRAFT _and_ ENGINE. G || II] III 1641

[420] 6,7 Now ... Sir.] “Now ... sir.” W

[421] 24 SN.] [_whispers Meercraft._] G

[422] 28 she is W, G

[423] 29 and om. 1641

[424] 31 fashion flocke,] fashion, flock 1692, f.

[425] 36 &c.] _et caetera_; G

[426] 45 to it G

[427] 49 do it G

[428] 52 _Diamond_ 1692, 1716 diamond W, G passim

[429] 55 SN.] [_Exit._ G

[430] 61 of it G

[431] 64 _Dick_ 1692, 1716 Dick W Dickey G

[432] 66 friend W, G

[433] 69 T’a 1716, W

[434] 81 SN....] Fit.... 1716 Fitz-dottrel ... W _Re-enter_ FITZDOTTREL. G

[435] 83 sullen 1692, f.

[436] 85, 6 ’t] it G

[437] 92 SN.] _Enter_ TRAINS. G

[438] 95, 103 FIT.] _Meer._ W, G

[439] 98 ’T] It G

[440] 99 gi’ 1716, W give G [_Exit._ G

[441] 106 [_Exeunt._ G

ACT. III. SCENE. I. [129]

GVILT-HEAD. PLVTARCHVS.

All this is to make you a Gentleman: I’ll haue you learne, Sonne. Wherefore haue I plac’d you With S^r. _Poul Either-ſide_, but to haue ſo much Law To keepe your owne? Beſides, he is a _Iuſtice_, Here i’ the Towne; and dwelling, Sonne, with him, 5 You ſhal learne that in a yeere, ſhall be worth twenty Of hauing ſtay’d you at _Oxford_, or at _Cambridge_, Or ſending you to the _Innes_ of _Court_, or _France_. I am call’d for now in haſte, by Maſter _Meere-craft_ To truſt Maſter _Fitz-dottrel_, a good man: 10 I’haue inquir’d him, eighteene hundred a yeere, (His name is currant) for a diamant ring Of forty, ſhall not be worth thirty (thats gain’d) And this is to make you a Gentleman!

PLV. O, but good father, you truſt too much!

GVI. Boy, boy, 15 We liue, by finding fooles out, to be truſted. Our ſhop-bookes are our paſtures, our corn-grounds, We lay ’hem op’n for them to come into: And when wee haue ’hem there, wee driue ’hem vp In t’one of our two Pounds, the _Compters_, ſtreight, 20 And this is to make you a Gentleman! Wee Citizens neuer truſt, but wee doe coozen: For, if our debtors pay, wee coozen them; And if they doe not, then we coozen our ſelues. But that’s a hazard euery one muſt runne, 25 That hopes to make his Sonne a Gentleman!

PLV. I doe not wiſh to be one, truely, Father. In a deſcent, or two, wee come to be Iuſt ’itheir ſtate, fit to be coozend, like ’hem. And I had rather ha’ tarryed i’ your trade: 30 For, ſince the _Gentry_ ſcorne the Citty ſo much, [130] Me thinkes we ſhould in time, holding together, And matching in our owne tribes, as they ſay, Haue got an _Act_ of _Common Councell_, for it, That we might coozen them out of _rerum natura_. 35

GVI. I, if we had an _Act_ firſt to forbid The marrying of our wealthy heyres vnto ’hem: And daughters, with ſuch lauiſh portions. That confounds all.

PLV. And makes a _Mungril_ breed, Father. And when they haue your money, then they laugh at you: 40 Or kick you downe the ſtayres. I cannot abide ’hem. I would faine haue ’hem coozen’d, but not truſted.

[442] SD. ACT. ... I. ...] ACT. ... I. _A Room in_ Fitzdottrel’s _House. Enter_ THOMAS GILTHEAD _and_ PLUTARCHUS. G

[443] 3 to om. 1692 t’ 1716 || _Poul_] _Pould_ 1641

[444] 9 I’m W, G

[445] 12 () ret. G

[446] 15 Boy, boy] Boy, by 1692

[447] 20 two om. 1692, 1716 || Int’one 1716, W into one G

[448] 29 i’ their 1716, W in their G

ACT. III. SCENE. II.

MERE-CRAFT. GVILT-HEAD. FITZ-DOTTRELL. PLVTARCHVS.

O, is he come! I knew he would not faile me. Welcome, good _Guilt-head_, I muſt ha’ you doe A noble Gentleman, a courteſie, here: In a mere toy (ſome pretty Ring, or Iewell) Of fifty, or threeſcore pound (Make it a hundred, 5 And hedge in the laſt forty, that I owe you, And your owne price for the Ring) He’s a good man, S^r, And you may hap’ ſee him a great one! Hee, Is likely to beſtow hundreds, and thouſands, Wi’ you; if you can humour him. A great prince 10 He will be ſhortly. What doe you ſay?

GVI. In truth, Sir I cannot. ’T has beene a long vacation with vs?

FIT. Of what, I pray thee? of wit? or honesty? Thoſe are your Citizens long vacations.

PLV. Good Father do not truſt ’hem.

MER. Nay, _Thom. Guilt-head_. 15 Hee will not buy a courteſie and begge it: Hee’ll rather pay, then pray. If you doe for him, You muſt doe cheerefully. His credit, Sir, Is not yet proſtitute! Who’s this? thy ſonne? A pretty youth, what’s his name?

PLV. _Plutarchus_, Sir, 20

MER. _Plutarchus!_ How came that about?

GVI. That yeere S^r, That I begot him, I bought _Plutarch’s_ liues, And fell ſ’ in loue with the booke, as I call’d my ſonne By’his name; In hope he ſhould be like him: And write the liues of our great men!

MER. I’ the City? [131] 25 And you do breed him, there?

GVI. His minde, Sir, lies Much to that way.

MER. Why, then, he is i’ the right way.

GVI. But, now, I had rather get him a good wife, And plant him i’ the countrey; there to vſe The bleſſing I ſhall leaue him:

MER. Out vpon’t! 30 And loſe the laudable meanes, thou haſt at home, heere, T’aduance, and make him a young _Alderman_? Buy him a Captaines place, for ſhame; and let him Into the world, early, and with his plume, And Scarfes, march through _Cheapſide_, or along _Cornehill_, And by the vertue’of thoſe, draw downe a wife 36 There from a windo’, worth ten thouſand pound! Get him the poſture booke, and’s leaden men, To ſet vpon a table, ’gainst his Miſtreſſe Chance to come by, that hee may draw her in, 40 And ſhew her _Finsbury_ battells.

GVI. I haue plac’d him With Iustice _Eytherſide_, to get so much law--

MER. As thou haſt conſcience. Come, come, thou doſt wrong Pretty _Plutarchus_, who had not his name, For nothing: but was borne to traine the youth 45 Of _London_, in the military truth-- That way his _Genius_ lies. My Couſin _Euerill_!

[449] SD. ACT. ...] _Enter_ MEERCRAFT. G

[450] 7 ring. [_Aside to Gilthead._

[451] 15 Tom G

[452] 20 ’s] is G

[453] 23 so in W, G

[454] 27 he’s W, G

[455] 45,6 to ... truth] in italics G

[456] 47 lies.--_Enter_ EVERILL.

ACT. III. SCENE. IIJ.

EVER-ILL. PLVTARCHVS. GVILT-HEAD. MERE-CRAFT. FITZDOTTRELL.

O, are you heere, Sir? ’pray you let vs whiſper.

PLV. Father, deare Father, truſt him if you loue mee.

GVI. Why, I doe meane it, boy; but, what I doe, Muſt not come eaſily from mee: Wee muſt deale With _Courtiers_, boy, as _Courtiers_ deale with vs. 5 If I haue a _Buſineſſe_ there, with any of them, Why, I muſt wait, I’am ſure on’t, Son: and though My _Lord_ diſpatch me, yet his worſhipfull man-- Will keepe me for his ſport, a moneth, or two, To ſhew mee with my fellow Cittizens. 10 I muſt make his traine long, and full, one quarter; And helpe the ſpectacle of his greatneſſe. There, Nothing is done at once, but iniuries, boy: And they come head-long! an their good turnes moue not, [124] Or very ſlowly.

PLV. Yet ſweet father, truſt him. 15

GVI. VVell, I will thinke.

EV. Come, you muſt do’t, Sir. I am vndone elſe, and your _Lady Tayle-buſh_ Has ſent for mee to dinner, and my cloaths Are all at pawne. I had ſent out this morning, Before I heard you were come to towne, ſome twenty 20 Of my epiſtles, and no one returne--

Mere-craft _tells him of his faults_.

MER. VVhy, I ha’ told you o’ this. This comes of wearing Scarlet, gold lace, and cut-works! your fine gartring! VVith your blowne roſes, Couſin! and your eating _Pheſant_, and _Godwit_, here in _London_! haunting 25 The _Globes_, and _Mermaides_! wedging in with _Lords_, Still at the table! and affecting lechery, In veluet! where could you ha’ contented your ſelfe With cheeſe, ſalt-butter, and a pickled hering, I’ the Low-countries; there worne cloth, and fuſtian! 30 Beene ſatisfied with a leape o’ your Hoſt’s daughter, In garriſon, a wench of a ſtoter! or, Your _Sutlers_ wife, i’ the leaguer, of two blanks! You neuer, then, had runne vpon this flat, To write your letters miſſiue, and ſend out 35 Your priuy ſeales, that thus haue frighted off All your acquaintance; that they ſhun you at diſtance, VVorse, then you do the Bailies!

EV. Pox vpon you. I come not to you for counſell, I lacke money.

_Hee repines._

MER. You doe not thinke, what you owe me already?

EV. I? 40 They owe you, that meane to pay you. I’ll beſworne, I neuer meant it. Come, you will proiect, I ſhall vndoe your practice, for this moneth elſe: You know mee. _and threatens him._

MER. I, yo’ are a right ſweet nature!

EV. Well, that’s all one!

MER. You’ll leaue this Empire, one day? 45 You will not euer haue this tribute payd, Your ſcepter o’ the ſword?

EV. Tye vp your wit, Doe, and prouoke me not--

MER. Will you, Sir, helpe, To what I ſhall prouoke another for you?

EV. I cannot tell; try me: I thinke I am not 50 So vtterly, of an ore vn-to-be-melted, But I can doe my ſelfe good, on occaſions.

_They ioyne._

MER. Strike in then, for your part. M^r. _Fitz-dottrel_ If I tranſgreſſe in point of manners, afford mee Your beſt conſtruction; I muſt beg my freedome 55 From your affayres, this day.

FIT. How, S^r.

MER. It is In ſuccour of this Gentlemans occaſions, My kinſ-man-- Mere-craft _pretends_ buſineſſe.

FIT. You’ll not do me that affront, S^r.

MER. I am ſory you ſhould ſo interpret it, But, Sir, it ſtands vpon his being inueſted 60 In a new _office_, hee has ſtood for, long: [133]

Mere-craft _describes the_ office _of_ Dependancy.

_Maſter_ of the _Dependances_! A place Of my proiection too, Sir, and hath met Much oppoſition; but the State, now, ſee’s That great neceſſity of it, as after all 65 Their writing, and their ſpeaking, againſt _Duells_, They haue erected it. His booke is drawne-- For, ſince, there will be differences, daily, ’Twixt Gentlemen; and that the roaring manner Is growne offenſiue; that thoſe few, we call 70 The ciuill men o’ the ſword, abhorre the vapours; They ſhall refer now, hither, for their _proceſſe_; And ſuch as treſſpaſe ’gainſt the rule of _Court_, Are to be fin’d--

FIT. In troth, a pretty place!

MER. A kinde of arbitrary _Court_ ’twill be, Sir. 75

FIT. I ſhall haue matter for it, I beleeue, Ere it be long: I had a diſtaſt.

MER. But now, Sir, My learned councell, they muſt haue a feeling, They’ll part, Sir, with no bookes, without the hand-gout Be oyld, and I muſt furniſh. If’t be money, 80 To me ſtreight. I am Mine, _Mint_ and _Exchequer_. To ſupply all. What is’t? a hundred pound?

EVE. No, th’ _Harpey_, now, ſtands on a hundred pieces.

MER. Why, he muſt haue ’hem, if he will. To morrow, Sir, Will equally ſerue your occaſion’s,---- 85 And therefore, let me obtaine, that you will yeeld To timing a poore Gentlemans diſtreſſes, In termes of hazard.--

FIT. By no meanes!

MER. I muſt Get him this money, and will.--

FIT. Sir, I proteſt, I’d rather ſtand engag’d for it my ſelfe: 90 Then you ſhould leaue mee.

MER. O good S^r. do you thinke So courſely of our manners, that we would, For any need of ours, be preſt to take it: Though you be pleas’d to offer it.

FIT. Why, by heauen, I meane it!

MER. I can neuer beleeue leſſe. 95 But wee, Sir, muſt preſerue our dignity, As you doe publiſh yours. By your faire leaue, Sir.

_Hee offers to be gone._

FIT. As I am a Gentleman, if you doe offer To leaue mee now, or if you doe refuſe mee, 99 I will not thinke you loue mee.

MER. Sir, I honour you. And with iuſt reaſon, for theſe noble notes, Of the nobility, you pretend too! But, Sir-- I would know, why? a motiue (he a ſtranger) You ſhould doe this?

(EVE. You’ll mar all with your fineneſſe)

FIT. Why, that’s all one, if ’twere, Sir, but my fancy. 105 But I haue a _Buſineſſe_, that perhaps I’d haue Brought to his _office_.

MER. O, Sir! I haue done, then; If hee can be made profitable, to you. [134]

FIT. Yes, and it ſhall be one of my ambitions To haue it the firſt _Buſineſſe_? May I not? 110

EVE. So you doe meane to make’t, a perfect _Buſineſſe_.

FIT. Nay, I’ll doe that, aſſure you: ſhew me once.

MER. S^r, it concernes, the firſt be a perfect _Buſineſſe_, For his owne honour!

EVE. I, and th’ reputation Too, of my place.

FIT. Why, why doe I take this courſe, elſe? 115 I am not altogether, an _Aſſe_, good Gentlemen, Wherefore ſhould I conſult you? doe you thinke? To make a ſong on’t? How’s your manner? tell vs.

MER. Doe, ſatisfie him: giue him the whole courſe.

EVE. Firſt, by requeſt, or otherwiſe, you offer 120 Your _Buſineſſe_ to the _Court_: wherein you craue: The iudgement of the _Maſter_ and the _Aſsiſtants_.

FIT. Well, that’s done, now, what doe you vpon it?

EVE. We ſtreight S^r, haue recourſe to the ſpring-head; Viſit the ground; and, ſo diſcloſe the nature: 125 If it will carry, or no. If wee doe finde, By our proportions it is like to proue A ſullen, and blacke _Bus’neſſe_ That it be Incorrigible; and out of, treaty; then. We file it, a _Dependance_!

FIT. So ’tis fil’d. 130 What followes? I doe loue the order of theſe things.

EVE. We then aduiſe the party, if he be A man of meanes, and hauings, that forth-with, He ſettle his eſtate: if not, at leaſt That he pretend it. For, by that, the world 135 Takes notice, that it now is a _Dependance_. And this we call, Sir, _Publication_.

FIT. Very ſufficient! After _Publication_, now?

EVE. Then we grant out our _Proceſſe_, which is diuers; Eyther by _Chartell_, Sir, or _ore-tenus_, 140 Wherein the Challenger, and Challengee Or (with your _Spaniard_) your _Prouocador_, And _Prouocado_, haue their ſeuerall courſes--

FIT. I haue enough on’t! for an hundred pieces? Yes, for two hundred, vnder-write me, doe. 145 Your man will take my bond?

MER. That he will, ſure. But, theſe ſame Citizens, they are ſuch ſharks! There’s an old debt of forty, I ga’ my word For one is runne away, to the _Bermudas_, And he will hooke in that, or he wi’ not doe. 150

_He whiſpers_ Fitz-dottrell _aſide_.

FIT. Why, let him. That and the ring, and a hundred pieces, Will all but make two hundred?

MER. No, no more, Sir. What ready _Arithmetique_ you haue? doe you heare? _And then_ Guilt-head. A pretty mornings worke for you, this? Do it, You ſhall ha’ twenty pound on’t.

GVI. Twenty pieces? [135] 155

(PLV. Good Father, do’t)

MER. You will hooke ſtill? well, Shew vs your ring. You could not ha’ done this, now With gentleneſſe, at firſt, wee might ha’ thank’d you? But groane, and ha’ your courteſies come from you Like a hard ſtoole, and ſtinke? A man may draw 160 Your teeth out eaſier, then your money? Come, Were little _Guilt-head_ heere, no better a nature, I ſhould ne’r loue him, that could pull his lips off, now! _He pulls_ Plutarchus _by the lips_. Was not thy mother a Gentlewoman?

PLV. Yes, Sir.

MER. And went to the Court at _Chriſtmas_, and S^t. _Georges-tide_? 165 And lent the Lords-men, chaines?

PLV. Of gold, and pearle, S^r.

MER. I knew, thou muſt take, after ſome body! Thou could’ſt not be elſe. This was no ſhop-looke! I’ll ha’ thee Captaine _Guilt-head_, and march vp, And take in _Pimlico_, and kill the buſh, 170 At euery tauerne! Thou shalt haue a wife, If ſmocks will mount, boy. How now? you ha’ there now Some _Briſto-ſtone_, or _Corniſh_ counterfeit You’ld put vpon vs. _He turns to old_ Guilt-head.

GVI. No, Sir I aſſure you: Looke on his luſter! hee will ſpeake himſelfe! 175 I’le gi’ you leaue to put him i’ the Mill, H’is no great, large ſtone, but a true _Paragon_, H’has all his corners, view him well.

MER. H’is yellow.

GVI. Vpo’ my faith, S^r, o’ the right black-water, And very deepe! H’is ſet without a foyle, too. 180 Here’s one o’ the yellow-water, I’ll ſell cheape.

MER. And what do you valew this, at? thirty pound?

GVI. No, Sir, he cost me forty, ere he was ſet.

MER. Turnings, you meane? I know your _Equinocks_: You’are growne the better Fathers of ’hem o’ late. 185 Well, where’t muſt goe, ’twill be iudg’d, and, therefore, Looke you’t be right. You ſhall haue fifty pound for’t. _Now to_ Fitz-dottrel. Not a deneer more! And, becauſe you would Haue things diſpatch’d, Sir, I’ll goe preſently, Inquire out this _Lady_. If you thinke good, Sir. 190 Hauing an hundred pieces ready, you may Part with thoſe, now, to ſerue my kinſmans turnes, That he may wait vpon you, anon, the freer; And take ’hem when you ha’ ſeal’d, a game, of _Guilt-head_.

FIT. I care not if I do!

MER. And diſpatch all, 195 Together.

FIT. There, th’are iuſt: a hundred pieces! I’ ha’ told ’hem ouer, twice a day, theſe two moneths.

_Hee turnes ’hem out together. And_ Euerill _and hee fall to ſhare_.

MER. Well, go, and ſeale, then, S^r, make your returne As ſpeedy as you can.

EVE. Come gi’ mee.

MER. Soft, Sir.

EVE. Mary, and faire too, then. I’ll no delaying, Sir. 200

MER. But, you will heare?

EVE. Yes, when I haue my diuident.

MER. Theres forty pieces for you.

EVE. What is this for? [136]

MER. Your halfe. You know, that _Guilt-head_ muſt ha’ twenty.

EVE. And what’s your ring there? ſhall I ha’ none o’ that?

MER. O, thats to be giuen to a _Lady_! 205

EVE. Is’t ſo?

MER. By that good light, it is.

EV. Come, gi’ me Ten pieces more, then.

MER. Why?

EV. For _Guilt-head_? Sir, Do’you thinke, I’ll ’low him any ſuch ſhare:

MER. You muſt.

EVE. Muſt I? Doe you your muſts, Sir, I’ll doe mine, You wi’ not part with the whole, Sir? Will you? Goe too. 210 Gi’ me ten pieces!

MER. By what law, doe you this?

EVE. E’n Lyon-law, Sir, I muſt roare elſe.

MER. Good!

EVE. Yo’ haue heard, how th’ _Aſſe_ made his diuiſions, wiſely?

MER. And, I am he: I thanke you.

EV. Much good do you, S^r.

MER. I ſhall be rid o’ this tyranny, one day?

EVE. Not, While you doe eate; and lie, about the towne, here; 216 And coozen i’ your bullions; and I ſtand Your name of credit, and compound your buſineſſe; Adiourne your beatings euery terme; and make New parties for your proiects. I haue, now, 220 A pretty taſque, of it, to hold you in Wi’ your_ Lady Tayle-buſh_: but the toy will be, How we ſhall both come off?

MER. Leaue you your doubting. And doe your portion, what’s aſſign’d you: I Neuer fail’d yet.

EVE. With reference to your aydes? 225 You’ll ſtill be vnthankfull. Where ſhall I meete you, anon? You ha’ ſome feate to doe alone, now, I ſee; You wiſh me gone, well, I will finde you out, And bring you after to the audit.

MER. S’light! There’s _Ingines_ ſhare too, I had forgot! This raigne 230 Is too-too-vnſuportable! I muſt Quit my ſelfe of this vaſſalage! _Ingine!_ welcome.

[457] SD. om. G

[458] 1 [_takes Meer. aside._ G

[459] 7 I’m 1716, W I am G

[460] 16 think. [_They walk aside._ G

[461] 17 I’m 1716 I am W

[462] 21 SN. om. G

[463] 23 gartering W, G

[464] 32 Storer 1716 storer W, G

[465] 33 Sulters 1641

[466] 38 Bayliffs 1716 bailiffs W, G

[467] 39,43 SN. om. G

[468] 44 you’re 1716, W

[469] 52 _Enter_ FITZDOTTREL. || SN. om. G

[470] 53 part. [_They go up to Fitz._] G

[471] 57, 61 SN. om. G

[472] 68 since 1641, f.

[473] 90 I had G

[474] 97 SN. _Hee_ om. G

[475] 103 () ret. G

[476] 104 _Ever._ [_Aside to Meer._]

[477] 106 ’d] would G

[478] 114 the W

[479] 123 ’s] is G

[480] 127 our] your 1641

[481] 148 gave G

[482] 149 to] into 1641

[483] 150 SN.] [_Aside to Fitz._ G he wi’] he’ll G

[484] 153 SN.] [_Aside to Gilthead._ G

[485] 159 you] your 1641, f.

[486] 163 SN.] [_Pulls him by the lips._ G

[487] 165 George-G

[488] 166 Lords-] lords W lords’ G

[489] 173 Bristol stone W, G

[490] 174 SN. _He_, _old_ om. G

[491] 177 He is W, G

[492] 178 He has W, G

[493] 178, 180 He’s W, G

[494] 184 equivokes W, G

[495] 185 You’re 1716, W You are G || ’hem] ’em G || o’ ret. G

[496] 186 where it G

[497] 187 SN.] [_To Fitz._] G

[498] 188 dencer 1641 Denier 1716 denier W, G

[499] 196 they’re just a 1716, W they are just a G

[500] 197 SN.] [_Turns them out on table._ G

[501] 199 can. [_Exeunt Fitzdottrel, Gilthead, and Plutarchus._] me. [_They fall to sharing_. G

[502] 201 Dividend 1716 dividend W, G

[503] 204 o’ ret. G

[504] 205 that is G

[505] 206 Is it W, G

[506] 208 allow 1692, f.

[507] 209 you om. 1692, 1716, W

[508] 212 E’n] Even G

[509] 213 You’ve 1716, W

[510] 218 your om. 1641

[511] 223 you om. 1641

[512] 227 to doe] to be done 1641

[513] 229 audit. [_Exit._ G

[514] 232 vassalage!--_Enter_ ENGINE, _followed by_ WITTIPOLL. G

ACT. IIJ. SCENE. IV.

MERE-CRAFT. INGINE. VVITTIPOL.

How goes the cry?

ING. Excellent well!

MER. Wil’t do? VVhere’s _Robinſon_?

ING. Here is the Gentleman, Sir. VVill vndertake t’himſelfe. I haue acquainted him.

MER. VVhy did you ſo?

ING. VVhy, _Robinſon_ would ha’ told him, You know. And hee’s a pleaſant wit! will hurt 5 Nothing you purpoſe. Then, he’is of opinion, That _Robinſon_ might want audacity, [129] She being ſuch a gallant. Now, hee has beene, In _Spaine_, and knowes the faſhions there; and can Diſcourſe; and being but mirth (hee ſaies) leaue much, 10 To his care:

MER. But he is too tall!

_He excepts at his ſtature._

ING. For that, He has the braueſt deuice! (you’ll loue him for’t) To ſay, he weares _Cioppinos_: and they doe ſo In _Spaine_. And _Robinſon’s_ as tall, as hee.

MER. Is he ſo?

ING. Euery iot.

MER. Nay, I had rather 15 To truſt a Gentleman with it, o’ the two.

ING. Pray you goe to him, then, Sir, and ſalute him.

MER. Sir, my friend _Ingine_ has acquainted you With a ſtrange _buſineſſe_, here.

WIT. A merry one, Sir. The _Duke_ of _Drown’d-land_, and his _Dutcheſſe_?

MER. Yes, Sir. 20 Now, that the _Coniurers_ ha’ laid him by, I ha’ made bold, to borrow him a while;

WIT. With purpoſe, yet, to put him out I hope To his beſt vſe?

MER. Yes, Sir.

WIT. For that ſmall part, That I am truſted with, put off your care: 25 I would not loſe to doe it, for the mirth, Will follow of it; and well, I haue a fancy.

MER. Sir, that will make it well.

WIT. You will report it ſo. Where muſt I haue my dreſſing?

ING. At my houſe, Sir.

MER. You ſhall haue caution, Sir, for what he yeelds, 30 To ſix pence.

WIT. You ſhall pardon me. I will ſhare, Sir, I’ your ſports, onely: nothing i’ your purchaſe. But you muſt furniſh mee with complements, To th’ manner of _Spaine_; my coach, my _guarda duenn’as_;

MER. _Ingine’s_ your _Pro’uedor_. But, Sir, I muſt 35 (Now I’haue entred truſt wi’ you, thus farre) Secure ſtill i’ your quality, acquaint you With ſomewhat, beyond this. The place, deſign’d To be the _Scene_, for this our mery matter, Becauſe it muſt haue countenance of women, 40 To draw diſcourse, and offer it, is here by, At the _Lady Taile-buſhes_.

WIT. I know her, Sir. And her Gentleman _huiſher_.

MER. M^r _Ambler_?

WIT. Yes, Sir.

MER. Sir, It ſhall be no ſhame to mee, to confeſſe To you, that wee poore Gentlemen, that want acres, 45 Muſt for our needs, turne fooles vp, and plough _Ladies_ Sometimes, to try what glebe they are: and this Is no vnfruitefull piece. She, and I now, Are on a proiect, for the fact, and venting Of a new kinde of _fucus_ (paint, for _Ladies_) 50 To ſerue the kingdome: wherein ſhee her ſelfe Hath trauell’d, ſpecially, by way of ſeruice Vnto her ſexe, and hopes to get the _Monopoly_, As the reward of her inuention. [138]

WIT. What is her end, in this?

EV. Merely ambition, 55 Sir, to grow great, and court it with the ſecret: Though ſhee pretend ſome other. For, ſhe’s dealing, Already, vpon caution for the ſhares, And M^r. _Ambler_, is hee nam’d _Examiner_ For the ingredients; and the _Register_ 60 Of what is vented; and ſhall keepe the _Office_. Now, if ſhee breake with you, of this (as I Muſt make the leading thred to your acquaintance, That, how experience gotten i’ your being Abroad, will helpe our buſinesse) thinke of ſome 65 Pretty additions, but to keep her floting: It may be, ſhee will offer you a part, Any ſtrange names of--

WIT. S^r, I haue my inſtructions. Is it not high time to be making ready?

MER. Yes, Sir.

ING. The foole’s in ſight, _Dottrel_.

MER. Away, then. 70

[515] SD. om. G

[516] 1 ’t] it G

[517] 3 t’] ’t 1716, W it G

[518] 6 he’s 1692, f.

[519] 7 want] have 1641

[520] 11 SN. om. G

[521] 12 () ret. G

[522] 17 you to go 1716, W

[523] 35 _Provedore_ 1716 provedore W provedoré G

[524] 43 Usher 1716 usher W, G

[525] 47 Sometime 1692, 1716, W

[526] 55 EV.] _Meer._ 1716, f.

[527] 59 is hee] he is W, G

[528] 62, 65 () ret. G

[529] 70 [_Exeunt Engine and Wittipol._ G

ACT. IIJ. SCENE. V.

MERE-CRAFT. FITZ-DOTTREL. PVG.

Return’d ſo ſoone?

FIT. Yes, here’s the ring: I ha’ ſeal’d. But there’s not ſo much gold in all the row, he ſaies-- Till’t come fro’ the Mint. ’Tis tane vp for the gameſters.

MER. There’s a ſhop-ſhift! plague on ’hem.

FIT. He do’s ſweare it.

MER. He’ll ſweare, and forſweare too, it is his trade, 5 You ſhould not haue left him.

FIT. S’lid, I can goe backe, And beat him, yet.

MER. No, now let him alone.

FIT. I was ſo earneſt, after the maine _Buſineſſe_, To haue this ring, gone.

MER. True, and ’tis time. I’haue learned, Sir, ſin’ you went, her _Ladi-ſhip_ eats 10 With the _Lady Tail-buſh_, here, hard by.

FIT. I’ the lane here?

MER. Yes, if you’had a ſeruant, now of prefence, Well cloth’d, and of an aëry voluble tongue, Neither too bigge, or little for his mouth, That could deliuer your wiues complement; 15 To ſend along withall.

FIT. I haue one Sir, A very handſome, gentleman-like-fellow, That I doe meane to make my _Dutcheſſe Vſher_-- I entertain’d him, but this morning, too: I’ll call him to you. The worſt of him, is his name! 20

MER. She’ll take no note of that, but of his meſſage. [139]

_Hee ſhewes him his_ Pug.

FIT. _Diuell!_ How like you him, Sir. Pace, go a little. Let’s ſee you moue.

MER. He’ll ſerue, S^r, giue it him: And let him goe along with mee, I’ll helpe To preſent him, and it.

FIT. Looke, you doe ſirah, 25 Diſcharge this well, as you expect your place. Do’you heare, goe on, come off with all your honours. _Giues him inſtructions._ I would faine ſee him, do it.

MER. Truſt him, with it;

FIT. Remember kiſſing of your hand, and anſwering With the _French_-time, in flexure of your body. 30 I could now ſo inſtruct him--and for his words--

MER. I’ll put them in his mouth.

FIT. O, but I haue ’hem O’ the very _Academies_.

MER. Sir, you’ll haue vſe for ’hem, Anon, your ſelfe, I warrant you: after dinner, When you are call’d.

FIT. S’light, that’ll be iuſt _play_-time. 35 _He longs to ſee the_ play. It cannot be, I muſt not loſe the _play_!

MER. Sir, but you muſt, if ſhe appoint to ſit. And, ſhee’s preſident.

FIT. S’lid, it is the _Diuell_.

_Becauſe it is the_ Diuell.

MER. And, ’twere his Damme too, you muſt now apply Your ſelfe, Sir, to this, wholly; or loſe all. 40

FIT. If I could but ſee a piece--

MER. S^r. Neuer think on’t.

FIT. Come but to one act, and I did not care-- But to be ſeene to riſe, and goe away, To vex the Players, and to puniſh their _Poet_-- Keepe him in awe!

MER. But ſay, that he be one, 45 Wi’ not be aw’d! but laugh at you. How then?

FIT. Then he ſhall pay for his’dinner himſelfe.

MER. Perhaps, He would doe that twice, rather then thanke you. Come, get the _Diuell_ out of your head, my _Lord_, (I’ll call you ſo in priuate ſtill) and take 50 Your _Lord-ſhip_ i’ your minde. You were, ſweete _Lord_, _He puts him in mind of his quarrell._ In talke to bring a _Buſineſſe_ to the _Office_.

FIT. Yes.

MER. Why ſhould not you, S^r, carry it o’ your ſelfe, Before the _Office_ be vp? and ſhew the world, You had no need of any mans direction; 55 In point, Sir, of ſufficiency. I ſpeake Againſt a kinſman, but as one that tenders Your graces good.

FIT. I thanke you; to proceed--

MER. To _Publications_: ha’ your _Deed_ drawne preſently. And leaue a blancke to put in your _Feoffees_ 60 One, two, or more, as you ſee cauſe--

FIT. I thank you Heartily, I doe thanke you. Not a word more, I pray you, as you loue mee. Let mee alone. That I could not thinke o’ this, as well, as hee? O, I could beat my infinite blocke-head--! 65

_He is angry with himſelfe._

MER. Come, we muſt this way.

PVG. How far is’t.

MER. Hard by here Ouer the way. Now, to atchieue this ring, From this ſame fellow, that is to aſſure it; [140] _He thinkes how to coozen the bearer, of the ring._ Before hee giue it. Though my _Spaniſh Lady_, Be a young Gentleman of meanes, and ſcorne 70 To ſhare, as hee doth ſay, I doe not know How ſuch a toy may tempt his _Lady-ſhip_: And therefore, I thinke beſt, it be aſſur’d.

PVG. Sir, be the _Ladies_ braue, wee goe vnto?

MER. O, yes.

PVG. And ſhall I ſee ’hem, and ſpeake to ’hem? 75

MER. What elſe? ha’ you your falſe-beard about you? _Traines._

_Questions his man._

TRA. Yes.

MER. And is this one of your double Cloakes?

TRA. The beſt of ’hem.

MER. Be ready then. Sweet _Pitfall_!

[530] SD. ACT. ...] _Re-enter_ FITZDOTTREL. G

[531] 3 Till it G || from G§

[532] 8 comma after ‘earnest’ om. 1716, f.

[533] 9 it is W, G

[534] 10 since G

[535] 14 or] nor W, G

[536] 21, 27, 35 SN. om. G

[537] 22 Devil!--_Enter_ PUG. G

[538] 27 Do’you] D’you 1692, 1716, W

[539] 30 in] and W, G

[540] 31 now] not 1641

[541] 38 she is W, G

[542] 39 And,] An G

[543] 38, 51 SN. om. G

[544] 47 Then] That 1692, 1716 || for’s 1692, f.

[545] 50 () ret. G

[546] 53 o’] on G

[547] 59 publication G

[548] 60 leave me a 1692, 1716, W

[549] 65 SN.] [_Exeunt._ SCENE II. _The Lane near the Lady_ Tailbush’s _House. Enter_ MEERCRAFT _followed by_ PUG. G

[550] 67 way. [_They cross over._] G

[551] 68 SN. om. G || is] is, W, G

[552] 73 [_Aside._ G

[553] 76 else? _Enter_ TRAINS. || SN. om. G

[554] 78 then. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _A Hall in Lady_ Tailbush’s _House_. _Enter_ MEERCRAFT _and_ PUG, _met by_ PITFALL. G

ACT. IIJ. SCENE. VI.

MERE-CRAFT. PITFALL. PVG. TRAINES.

Come, I muſt buſſe--

_Offers to kiſſe._

PIT. Away. MER. I’ll ſet thee vp again. Neuer feare that: canſt thou get ne’r a bird? No _Thruſhes_ hungry? Stay, till cold weather come, I’ll help thee to an _Ouſell_, or, a _Field-fare_. Who’s within, with Madame?

PIT. I’ll tell you straight. 5

_She runs in, in haſte: he followes._

MER. Pleaſe you ſtay here, a while Sir, I’le goe in.

PVG. I doe ſo long to haue a little venery, While I am in this body! I would taſt Of euery ſinne, a little, if it might be After the māner of man! _Sweet-heart!_

PIT. What would you, S^r? 10

Pug _leaps at_ Pitfall’s _comming in_.

PVG. Nothing but fall in, to you, be your Black-bird, My pretty pit (as the Gentleman ſaid) your _Throſtle_: Lye tame, and taken with you; here’is gold! To buy you ſo much new ſtuffes, from the ſhop, As I may take the old vp--

TRA. You muſt send, Sir. 15 The Gentleman the ring.

Traine’s _in his falſe cloak, brings a falſe meſſage, and gets the ring_.

PVG. There ’tis. Nay looke, Will you be fooliſh, _Pit_.

PIT. This is ſtrange rudeneſſe.

PVG. Deare _Pit_.

PIT. I’ll call, I ſweare.

Mere-craft _followes preſently, and askes for it_.

MER. Where are you, S^r? Is your ring ready? Goe with me.

PVG. I ſent it you.

MER. Me? When? by whom?

PVG. A fellow here, e’en now, 20 Came for it i’ your name.

MER. I ſent none, ſure. My meaning euer was, you ſhould deliuer it, Your ſelfe: So was your Maſters charge, you know. _Ent._ Train’s _as himſelfe againe_. What fellow was it, doe you know him?

PVG. Here, But now, he had it.

MER. Saw you any? _Traines_? 25

TRA. Not I.

PVG. The Gentleman ſaw him.

MER. Enquire.

PVG. I was ſo earneſt vpon her, I mark’d not! _The_ Diuell _confeſſeth himſelfe coozen’d_. My diuelliſh _Chiefe_ has put mee here in flesh, [141] To ſhame mee! This dull body I am in, I perceiue nothing with! I offer at nothing, 30 That will ſucceed!

TRA. Sir, ſhe ſaw none, ſhe ſaies.

PVG. _Satan_ himſelfe, has tane a ſhape t’abuſe me. It could not be elſe.

MER. This is aboue ſtrange! Mere-craft _accuſeth him of negligence_. That you ſhould be ſo retchleſſe. What’ll you do, Sir? How will you anſwer this, when you are queſtion’d? 35

PVG. Run from my fleſh, if I could: put off mankind! This’s ſuch a ſcorne! and will be a new exerciſe, For my _Arch-Duke_! Woe to the ſeuerall cudgells, Muſt suffer, on this backe! Can you no ſuccours? Sir? 39

_He asketh ayde._

MER. Alas! the vſe of it is ſo preſent.

PVG. I aske, Sir, credit for another, but till to morrow?

MER. There is not ſo much time, Sir. But how euer, The lady is a noble Lady, and will (To ſaue a Gentleman from check) be intreated Mere-craft _promiſeth faintly, yet comforts him_. To ſay, ſhe ha’s receiu’d it.

PVG. Do you thinke ſo? 45 Will ſhee be won?

MER. No doubt, to ſuch an office, It will be a Lady’s brauery, and her pride.

PVG. And not be knowne on’t after, vnto him?

MER. That were a treachery! Vpon my word, Be confident. Returne vnto your maſter, 50 My _Lady Preſident_ ſits this after-noone, Ha’s tane the ring, commends her ſeruices Vnto your _Lady-Dutcheſſe_. You may ſay She’s a ciuill _Lady_, and do’s giue her All her reſpects, already: Bad you, tell her 55 She liues, but to receiue her wiſh’d commandements, And haue the honor here to kiſſe her hands: For which ſhee’ll ſtay this houre yet. Haſten you Your _Prince_, away.

PVG. And Sir, you will take care Th’ excuſe be perfect?

MER. You confeſſe your feares. 60 _The_ Diuel _is doubtfull_. Too much.

PVG. The ſhame is more, I’ll quit you of either.

[555] SD. om.

[556] 1 SN.] [_Offers to kiss her._ G

[557] 5 SN. [_Exit hastily._ (after 5) [_Exit._ (after 6) G

[558] 10 SN.] Sweetheart! _Re-enter_ PITFALL. || sir? [_Pug runs to her._ G

[559] 16 SN.] _Enter_ TRAINS _in his false beard and cloke_. (after ’vp--’15) [_Exit Trains._] (after ‘tis’ 16) G

[560] 18 SN. _Enter_ MEERCRAFT. G

[561] 21 for’t W

[562] 23 SN.] _Re-enter_ TRAINS _dressed as at first_. G

[563] 26 Gentlewoman 1716 gentlewoman W, G

[564] 27, 33, 39 SN. om. G

[565] 31 succeed! [_Aside._ G

[566] 33 else! [_Aside._ G

[567] 34 ’ll] will G

[568] 37 ’s] is G

[569] 39 back! [_Aside._] G

[570] 44 entreated W, G

[571] 45 has 1692, f. passim

[572] 44, 60 SN. om. G

[573] 60 period om. 1716, f.

[574] 61 I’ll ...] _Meer._ I’ll ... W, G

[575] 61 [_Exeunt_ G

ACT. IIIJ. SCENE. I. [142]

TAILE-BVSH. MERE-CRAFT. MANLY.

A Pox vpo’ referring to _Commiſsioners_, I’had rather heare that it were paſt the ſeales: Your _Courtiers_ moue ſo Snaile-like i’ your _Buſineſſe_. Wuld I had begun wi’ you.

MER. We muſt moue, _Madame_, in order, by degrees: not iump. 5

TAY. Why, there was S^r. _Iohn Monie-man_ could iump A _Buſineſſe_ quickely.

MER. True, hee had great friends, But, becauſe ſome, ſweete _Madame_, can leape ditches, Wee muſt not all ſhunne to goe ouer bridges. The harder parts, I make account are done: 10 _He flatters her._ Now, ’tis referr’d. You are infinitly bound Vnto’the _Ladies_, they ha’ so cri’d it vp!

TAY. Doe they like it then?

MER. They ha’ ſent the _Spaniſh-Lady_, To gratulate with you--

TAY. I must ſend ’hem thankes And ſome remembrances.

MER. That you muſt, and viſit ’hem. 15 Where’s _Ambler_?

TAY. Loſt, to day, we cannot heare of him.

MER. Not _Madam_?

TAY. No in good faith. They ſay he lay not At home, to night. And here has fall’n a _Buſineſſe_ Betweene your Couſin, and Maſter _Manly_, has Vnquieted vs all.

MER. So I heare, _Madame_. 20 Pray you how was it?

TAY. Troth, it but appeares Ill o’ your Kinſmans part. You may haue heard, That _Manly_ is a ſutor to me, I doubt not:

MER. I gueſs’d it, _Madame_.

TAY. And it ſeemes, he truſted Your Couſin to let fall some faire reports 25 Of him vnto mee.

MER. Which he did!

TAY. So farre From it, as hee came in, and tooke him rayling Againſt him.

MER. How! And what said _Manly_ to him?

TAY. Inough, I doe aſſure you: and with that ſcorne Of him, and the iniury, as I doe wonder 30 How _Euerill_ bore it! But that guilt vndoe’s Many mens valors.

MER. Here comes _Manly_.

MAN. _Madame_, [143] I’ll take my leaue--

Manly _offers to be gone_.

TAY. You ſha’ not goe, i’ faith. I’ll ha’ you ſtay, and ſee this _Spaniſh_ miracle, Of our _Engliſh Ladie_.

MAN. Let me pray your _Ladiſhip_, 35 Lay your commands on me, some other time.

TAY. Now, I proteſt: and I will haue all piec’d, And friends againe.

MAN. It will be but ill ſolder’d!

TAY. You are too much affected with it.

MAN. I cannot _Madame_, but thinke on’t for th’ iniuſtice.

TAY. Sir, 40 His kinſman here is ſorry.

MER. Not I, _Madam_, I am no kin to him, wee but call Couſins, Mere-craft _denies him_. And if wee were, Sir, I haue no relation Vnto his crimes.

MAN. You are not vrged with ’hem. I can accuſe, Sir, none but mine owne iudgement, 45 For though it were his crime, ſo to betray mee: I am ſure, ’twas more mine owne, at all to truſt him. But he, therein, did vſe but his old manners, And fauour ſtrongly what hee was before.

TAY. Come, he will change!

MAN. Faith, I muſt neuer think it. 50 Nor were it reaſon in mee to expect That for my ſake, hee ſhould put off a nature Hee ſuck’d in with his milke. It may be _Madam_, Deceiuing truſt, is all he has to truſt to: If ſo, I ſhall be loath, that any hope 55 Of mine, ſhould bate him of his meanes.

TAY. Yo’ are ſharp, Sir. This act may make him honeſt!

MAN. If he were To be made honeſt, by an act of _Parliament_, I ſhould not alter, i’ my faith of him.

TAY. _Eyther-ſide!_ Welcome, deare _Either-ſide_! how haſt thou done, good wench? _She spies the_ Lady Eyther-ſide. Thou haſt beene a ſtranger! I ha’ not ſeene thee, this weeke. 61

[576] SD. IIIJ] VI. 1641 TAILE. ...] _A room in Lady_ TAILBUSH’S _House. Enter Lady_ TAILBUSH _and_ MEERCRAFT. G

[577] 10 SN. om. G

[578] 32 valours. _Enter_ MANLY. G

[579] 33 SN. om. G

[580] 42 SN. om. G

[581] 43 wee] he G

[582] 47 I’m 1716, W

[583] 56 Y’are 1716, W

[584] 59 him. _Enter Lady_ EITHERSIDE.

[585] 60 SN. om. G

ACT. IIIJ. SCENE. II.

EITHERSIDE. {_To them_

Ever your ſeruant, _Madame_.

TAY. Where hast ’hou beene? [144] I did ſo long to ſee thee.

EIT. Viſiting, and ſo tyr’d! I proteſt, _Madame_, ’tis a monſtrous trouble!

TAY. And ſo it is. I ſweare I muſt to morrow, Beginne my viſits (would they were ouer) at _Court_. 5 It tortures me, to thinke on ’hem.

EIT. I doe heare You ha’ cauſe, Madam, your ſute goes on.

TAY. Who told thee?

EYT. One, that can tell: M^r. _Eyther-ſide_.

TAY. O, thy huſband! Yes, faith, there’s life in’t, now: It is referr’d. If wee once ſee it vnder the ſeales, wench, then, 10 Haue with ’hem for the great _Carroch_, ſixe horſes, And the two _Coach-men_, with my _Ambler_, bare, And my three women: wee will liue, i’ faith, The examples o’ the towne, and gouerne it. I’le lead the faſhion ſtill.

EIT. You doe that, now, 15 Sweet _Madame_.

TAY. O, but then, I’ll euery day Bring vp ſome new deuice. Thou and I, _Either-ſide_, Will firſt be in it. I will giue it thee; And they ſhall follow vs. Thou ſhalt, I ſweare, Weare euery moneth a new gowne, out of it. 20

EITH. Thanke you good _Madame_.

TAY. Pray thee call mee _Taile-buſh_ As I thee, _Either-ſide_: I not loue this, _Madame_.

ETY. Then I proteſt to you, _Taile-buſh_, I am glad Your _Buſineſſe_ ſo ſucceeds.

TAY. Thanke thee, good _Eyther-ſide_.

ETY. But Maſter _Either-ſide_ tells me, that he likes 25 Your other _Buſineſſe_ better.

TAY. Which?

EIT. O’ the Tooth-picks.

TAY. I neuer heard on’t.

EIT. Aske M^r. _Mere-craft_.

MER. _Madame?_ H’is one, in a word, I’ll truſt his malice, With any mans credit, I would haue abus’d!

Mere-craft _hath whiſper’d with the while_.

MAN. Sir, if you thinke you doe pleaſe mee, in this, 30 You are deceiu’d!

MER. No, but becauſe my _Lady_, Nam’d him my kinſman; I would ſatisfie you, What I thinke of him: and pray you, vpon it To iudge mee!

MAN. So I doe: that ill mens friendſhip, Is as vnfaithfull, as themſelues.

TAY. Doe you heare? 35 Ha’ you a _Buſineſſe_ about Tooth-picks?

MER. Yes, _Madame_. Did I ne’r tell’t you? I meant to haue offer’d it Your _Lady-ſhip_, on the perfecting the pattent. [145]

TAY. How is’t!

MER. For ſeruing the whole ſtate with Tooth-picks; _The_ Proiect _for_ Tooth-picks. (Somewhat an intricate _Buſineſſe_ to diſcourſe) but-- 40 I ſhew, how much the Subiect is abus’d, Firſt, in that one commodity? then what diſeaſes, And putrefactions in the gummes are bred, By thoſe are made of adultrate, and falſe wood? My plot, for reformation of theſe, followes. 45 To haue all Tooth-picks, brought vnto an _office_, There ſeal’d; and ſuch as counterfait ’hem, mulcted. And laſt, for venting ’hem to haue a booke Printed, to teach their vſe, which euery childe Shall haue throughout the kingdome, that can read, 50 And learne to picke his teeth by. Which beginning Earely to practice, with ſome other rules, Of neuer ſleeping with the mouth open, chawing Some graines of _maſticke_, will preſerue the breath Pure, and ſo free from taynt--ha’ what is’t? ſaiſt thou?

Traines _his man whiſpers him_.

TAY. Good faith, it ſounds a very pretty _Bus’neſſe_! 56

EIT. So M^r. _Either-ſide_ ſaies, _Madame_.

MER. The _Lady_ is come.

TAY. Is ſhe? Good, waite vpon her in. My _Ambler_ Was neuer ſo ill abſent. _Either-ſide_, How doe I looke to day? Am I not dreſt, 60 Spruntly?

_She lookes in her glaſſe._

EIT. Yes, verily, _Madame_.

TAY. Pox o’ _Madame_, Will you not leaue that?

EIT. Yes, good _Taile-buſh_.

TAY. So? Sounds not that better? What vile _Fucus_ is this, Thou haſt got on?

EIT. ’Tis _Pearle_.

TAY. _Pearle?_ _Oyſter-ſhells_: As I breath, _Either-side_, I know’t. Here comes 65 (They say) a wonder, ſirrah, has beene in _Spaine_! Will teach vs all; ſhee’s ſent to mee, from _Court_. To gratulate with mee! Pr’y thee, let’s obſerue her, What faults ſhe has, that wee may laugh at ’hem, When ſhe is gone.

EIT. That we will heartily, _Tail-buſh_. 70

Wittipol _enters_.

TAY. O, mee! the very _Infanta_ of the _Giants_!

[586] SD. om. G

[587] 1 thou 1692, f.

[588] 22 not loue] love not 1716, f.

[589] 26 O’] O, 1641

[590] 27 on’t] of it G

[591] 28 Madam! [_Aside to Manly._] G || He is G

[592] 29 SN. _with him the_ 1692, 1716, W SN. om. G

[593] 37 tell it G

[594] 39 is it G || SN. om. G

[595] 40 an] in 1641

[596] 42 disease W

[597] 44 adulterate G

[598] 53 chewing 1716, f.

[599] 55 SN.] taint--_Enter_ TRAINS, _and whispers him_. G

[600] 58 in. [_Exit Meercraft._] G

[601] 61 SN.] _She_ om. G || o’ ret. G

[602] 68 Prythee 1692 Prithee 1716 prithee W, G

[603] 70 SN.] _Re-enter_ MEERCRAFT, _introducing_ WITTIPOL _dressed as a Spanish Lady_. G

ACT. IIIJ. SCENE. IJI.

MERE-CRAFT. WITTIPOL. } to them.

Wittipol _is dreſt like a_ Spaniſh Lady. MER. Here is a noble _Lady_, _Madame_, come, [146] From your great friends, at _Court_, to ſee your _Ladi-ſhip_: And haue the honour of your acquaintance.

TAY. Sir. She do’s vs honour.

WIT. Pray you, ſay to her _Ladiſhip_, It is the manner of _Spaine_, to imbrace onely, 5 Neuer to kiſſe. She will excuſe the cuſtome!

_Excuſes him ſelfe for not kiſſing._

TAY. Your vſe of it is law. Pleaſe you, ſweete, _Madame_, To take a ſeate.

WIT. Yes, _Madame_. I’haue had The fauour, through a world of faire report To know your vertues, _Madame_; and in that 10 Name, haue deſir’d the happineſſe of preſenting My ſeruice to your _Ladiſhip_!

TAY. Your loue, _Madame_, I muſt not owne it elſe.

WIT. Both are due, _Madame_, To your great vndertakings.

TAY. Great? In troth, _Madame_, They are my friends, that thinke ’hem any thing: 15 If I can doe my ſexe (by ’hem) any ſeruice, I’haue my ends, _Madame_.

WIT. And they are noble ones, That make a multitude beholden, _Madame_: The common-wealth of _Ladies_, muſt acknowledge from you.

EIT. Except ſome enuious, _Madame_.

WIT. Yo’ are right in that, _Madame_, 20 Of which race, I encountred ſome but lately. Who (’t ſeemes) haue ſtudyed reaſons to diſcredit Your _buſineſſe_.

TAY. How, ſweet _Madame_.

WIT. Nay, the parties Wi’ not be worth your pauſe--Moſt ruinous things, _Madame_, That haue put off all hope of being recouer’d 25 To a degree of handſomeneſſe.

TAY. But their reaſons, _Madame_? I would faine heare.

WIT. Some _Madame_, I remember. They ſay, that painting quite deſtroyes the face--

EIT. O, that’s an old one, _Madame_.

WIT. There are new ones, too. Corrupts the breath; hath left ſo little ſweetneſſe 30 In kiſſing, as ’tis now vſ’d, but for faſhion: And ſhortly will be taken for a puniſhment. Decayes the fore-teeth, that ſhould guard the tongue; And ſuffers that runne riot euer-laſting! And (which is worſe) ſome _Ladies_ when they meete 35 Cannot be merry, and laugh, but they doe ſpit In one anothers faces!

MAN. I ſhould know This voyce, and face too:

Manly _begins to know him_.

VVIT. Then they ſay, ’tis dangerous [147] To all the falne, yet well diſpos’d _Mad-dames_, That are induſtrious, and deſire to earne 40 Their liuing with their ſweate! For any diſtemper Of heat, and motion, may diſplace the colours; And if the paint once runne about their faces, Twenty to one, they will appeare ſo ill-fauour’d, Their ſeruants run away, too, and leaue the pleaſure 45 Imperfect, and the reckoning all vnpay’d.

EIT. Pox, theſe are _Poets_ reaſons.

TAY. Some old _Lady_ That keepes a _Poet_, has deuis’d theſe ſcandales.

EIT. Faith we muſt haue the _Poets_ baniſh’d, _Madame_, As Maſter _Either-ſide_ ſaies.

MER. Maſter _Fitz-dottrel_? 50 And his wife: where? _Madame_, the _Duke_ of _Drown’d-land_, That will be ſhortly.

VVIT. Is this my _Lord_?

MER. The ſame.

[604] SD. om. G

[605] 1 SN. is om. 1692, 1716, W || For G see 70 above.

[606] 5 embrace 1716, f.

[607] 6 SN. om. G

[608] 16 ’em G

[609] 20 Yo’] Y’ 1716, W

[610] 22 ’t] it G

[611] 38 SN.] [_Aside._ G

[612] 39 _Mad-dams_ 1692, 1716 mad-dams W mad-ams G

[613] 46 also G

[614] 51 wife! _Wit._ Where? _Enter Mr. and Mrs._ FITZDOTTREL, _followed by_ PUG. _Meer._ [_To Wit._] Madam, G

ACT. IIIJ. SCENE. IV.

FITZ-DOTTREL. Miſtreſſe FITZ-DOTTRELL. PVG. } _to them._

Your ſeruant, _Madame_!

VVIT. How now? Friend? offended, That I haue found your haunt here?

Wittipol _whiſpers with_ Manly.

MAN. No, but wondring At your ſtrange faſhion’d venture, hither.

VVIT. It is To ſhew you what they are, you ſo purſue.

MAN. I thinke ’twill proue a med’cine againſt marriage; To know their manners.

VVIT. Stay, and profit then. 6

MER. The _Lady_, _Madame_, whose _Prince_ has brought her, here, To be inſtructed.

_Hee preſents Miſtreſſe_ Fitz-dottrel.

VVIT. Pleaſe you ſit with vs, _Lady_.

MER. That’s _Lady-Preſident_.

FIT. A goodly woman! I cannot ſee the ring, though.

MER. Sir, ſhe has it. 10

TAY. But, _Madame_, theſe are very feeble reaſons!

WIT. So I vrg’d _Madame_, that the new complexion, Now to come forth, in name o’ your _Ladiſhip’s fucus_, Had no _ingredient_--

TAY. But I durſt eate, I aſſure you.

WIT. So do they, in _Spaine_.

TAY. Sweet _Madam_ be ſo liberall, 15 To giue vs ſome o’ your _Spaniſh Fucuſes_!

VVIT. They are infinit, _Madame_.

TAY. So I heare, they haue VVater of _Gourdes_, of _Radiſh_, the white _Beanes_, Flowers of _Glaſſe_, of _Thiſtles_, _Roſe-marine_. Raw _Honey_, _Muſtard-ſeed_, and Bread dough-bak’d, 20 The crums o’ bread, _Goats-milke_, and whites of _Egges_, _Campheere_, and _Lilly-roots_, the fat of _Swannes_, Marrow of _Veale_, white _Pidgeons_, and pine-_kernells_, [148] The ſeedes of _Nettles_, _perse’line_, and _hares gall_. _Limons_, thin-skind--

EIT. How, her _Ladiſhip_ has ſtudied 25 Al excellent things!

VVIT. But ordinary, _Madame_. No, the true rarities, are th’ _Aluagada_, And _Argentata_ of Queene _Isabella_!

TAY. I, what are their _ingredients_, gentle _Madame_?

WIT. Your _Allum Scagliola_, or _Pol-dipedra_; 30 And _Zuccarino_; _Turpentine_ of _Abezzo_, Wash’d in nine waters: _Soda di leuante_, Or your _Ferne_ aſhes; _Beniamin di gotta_; _Graſſo di ſerpe_; _Porcelletto marino_; Oyles of _Lentiſco_; _Zucche Mugia_; make 35 The admirable _Verniſh_ for the face, Giues the right luſter; but two drops rub’d on VVith a piece of ſcarlet, makes a _Lady_ of ſixty Looke at ſixteen. But, aboue all, the water Of the white _Hen_, of the _Lady Eſtifanias_! 40

TAY. O, I, that ſame, good _Madame_, I haue heard of: How is it done?

VVIT. _Madame_, you take your _Hen_, Plume it, and skin it, cleanſe it o’ the inwards: Then chop it, bones and all: adde to foure ounces Of _Carrauicins_, _Pipitas_, _Sope_ of _Cyprus_, 45 Make the decoction, ſtreine it. Then diſtill it, And keep it in your galley-pot well glidder’d: Three drops preſerues from wrinkles, warts, ſpots, moles, Blemiſh, or Sun-burnings, and keepes the skin _In decimo ſexto_, euer bright, and ſmooth, 50 As any looking-glaſſe; and indeed, is call’d The Virgins milke for the face, _Oglio reale_; A Ceruſe, neyther cold or heat, will hurt; And mixt with oyle of _myrrhe_, and the red _Gilli-flower_ Call’d _Cataputia_; and flowers of _Rouiſtico_; 55 Makes the beſt _muta_, or dye of the whole world.

TAY. Deare _Madame_, will you let vs be familiar?

WIT. Your _Ladiſhips_ ſeruant.

MER. How do you like her.

FIT. Admirable! But, yet, I cannot ſee the ring.

_Hee is iealous about his_ ring, _and_ Mere-craft _deliuers it._

PVG. Sir.

MER. I muſt Deliuer it, or marre all. This foole’s ſo iealous. 60 _Madame_--Sir, weare this ring, and pray you take knowledge, ’Twas ſent you by his wife. And giue her thanks, Doe not you dwindle, Sir, beare vp.

PVG. I thanke you, Sir.

TAY. But for the manner of _Spaine_! Sweet, _Madame_, let vs Be bold, now we are in: Are all the _Ladies_, 65 There, i’ the faſhion?

VVIT. None but _Grandee’s_, _Madame_, O’ the claſp’d traine, which may be worne at length, too, Or thus, vpon my arme.

TAY. And doe they weare _Cioppino’s_ all?

VVIT. If they be dreſt in _punto_, _Madame_.

EIT. Guilt as thoſe are? _madame?_

WIT. Of Goldſmiths work, _madame_; [149] 70 And ſet with diamants: and their _Spaniſh_ pumps Of perfum’d leather.

TAI. I ſhould thinke it hard To go in ’hem, _madame_.

WIT. At the firſt, it is, _madame_.

TAI. Do you neuer fall in ’hem?

WIT. Neuer.

EI. I ſweare, I ſhould Six times an houre.

WIT. But you haue men at hand, ſstill, To helpe you, if you fall?

EIT. Onely one, madame, 76 The _Guardo-duennas_, ſuch a little old man, As this.

EIT. Alas! hee can doe nothing! this!

WIT. I’ll tell you, madame, I ſaw i’ the _Court_ of _Spaine_ once, A _Lady_ fall i’ the Kings ſight, along, 80 And there ſhee lay, flat ſpred, as an _Vmbrella_, Her hoope here crack’d; no man durſt reach a hand To helpe her, till the _Guarda-duenn’as_ came, VVho is the perſon onel’ allow’d to touch A _Lady_ there: and he but by this finger. 85

EIT. Ha’ they no ſeruants, _madame_, there? nor friends?

WIT. An _Eſcudero_, or ſo _madame_, that wayts Vpon ’hem in another Coach, at diſtance, And when they walke, or daunce, holds by a hand-kercher, Neuer preſumes to touch ’hem.

EIT. This’s ſciruy! 90 And a forc’d grauity! I doe not like it. I like our owne much better.

TAY. ’Tis more _French_, And _Courtly_ ours.

EIT. And taſts more liberty. VVe may haue our doozen of viſiters, at once, Make loue t’vs.

TAY. And before our husbands?

EIT. Huſband? 95 As I am honeſt, _Tayle-buſh_ I doe thinke If no body ſhould loue mee, but my poore husband, I ſhould e’n hang my ſelfe.

TAY. Fortune forbid, wench: So faire a necke ſhould haue ſo foule a neck-lace.

EIT. ’Tis true, as I am handſome!

WIT. I receiu’d, _Lady_, 100 A token from you, which I would not bee Rude to refuſe, being your firſt remembrance.

(FIT. O, I am ſatisfied now! MER. Do you ſee it, Sir.)

WIT. But ſince you come, to know me, neerer, _Lady_, I’ll begge the honour, you will weare for mee, 105 It muſt be ſo.

Wittipol _giues it Miſtreſſe_ Fitz-dottrel.

M^rs. FIT. Sure I haue heard this tongue.

MER. What do you meane, S^r?

Mere-craft _murmures,_

WIT. Would you ha’ me mercenary? We’ll recompence it anon, in ſomewhat elſe.

_He is ſatisfied, now he ſees it._

FIT. I doe not loue to be gull’d, though in a toy. VVife, doe you heare? yo’ are come into the Schole, wife, VVhere you may learne, I doe perceiue it, any thing! 111 How to be fine, or faire, or great, or proud, Or what you will, indeed, wife; heere ’tis taught. And I am glad on’t, that you may not ſay, Another day, when honours come vpon you, 115 You wanted meanes. I ha’ done my parts: beene, Today at fifty pound charge, firſt, for a ring, [150] _He vpbraids her, with his Bill of coſts._ To get you entred. Then left my new _Play_, To wait vpon you, here, to ſee’t confirm’d. That I may ſay, both to mine owne eyes, and eares, 120 Senſes, you are my witneſſe, ſha’ hath inioy’d All helps that could be had, for loue, or money--

M^rs. FIT. To make a foole of her.

FIT. Wife, that’s your malice, The wickedneſſe o’ you nature to interpret Your husbands kindeſſe thus. But I’ll not leaue; 125 Still to doe good, for your deprau’d affections: Intend it. Bend this ſtubborne will; be great.

TAY. Good _Madame_, whom do they vſe in meſſages?

WIT. They comonly vſe their ſlaues, _Madame_.

TAI. And do’s your _Ladiſhip_. Thinke that ſo good, _Madame_?

WIT. no, indeed, _Madame_; I, 130 Therein preferre the faſhion of _England_ farre, Of your young delicate Page, or diſcreet Vſher.

FIT. And I goe with your _Ladiſhip_, in opinion, Directly for your Gentleman-vſher. There’s not a finer _Officer_ goes on ground. 135

WIT. If hee be made and broken to his place, once.

FIT. Nay, ſo I preſuppoſe him.

WIT. And they are fitter Managers too, Sir, but I would haue ’hem call’d Our _Eſcudero’s_.

FIT. Good.

WIT. Say, I ſhould ſend To your _Ladiſhip_, who (I preſume) has gather’d 140 All the deare ſecrets, to know how to make _Paſtillos_ of the _Dutcheſſe_ of _Braganza_, _Coquettas_, _Almoiauana’s_, _Mantecada’s_, _Alcoreas_, _Muſtaccioli_; or ſay it were The _Peladore_ of _Isabella_, or _balls_ 145 Againſt the itch, or _aqua nanfa_, or _oyle_ Of _Ieſſamine_ for gloues, of the _Marqueſſe Muja_: Or for the head, and hayre: why, theſe are _offices_.

FIT. Fit for a gentleman, not a ſlaue. They onely Might aske for your _pineti_, _Spaniſh_-cole, 150 To burne, and ſweeten a roome; but the _Arcana_ Of _Ladies_ Cabinets--

FIT. Should be elſe-where truſted. Yo’ are much about the truth. Sweet honoured _Ladies_, _He enters himſelfe with the_ Ladies. Let mee fall in wi’ you. I’ha’ my female wit, As well as my male. And I doe know what ſutes 155 A _Lady_ of ſpirit, or a woman of faſhion!

WIT. And you would haue your wife ſuch.

FIT. Yes, _Madame_, aërie, Light; not to plaine diſhoneſty, I meane: But, ſomewhat o’ this ſide.

WIT. I take you, Sir. H’has reaſon _Ladies_. I’ll not giue this ruſh 160 For any _Lady_, that cannot be honeſt Within a thred.

TAY. Yes, _Madame_, and yet venter As far for th’other, in her Fame--

WIT. As can be; Coach it to _Pimlico_; daunce the _Saraband_; [151] Heare, and talke bawdy; laugh as loud, as a larum; 165 Squeake, ſpring, do any thing.

EIT. In young company, _Madame_.

TAY. Or afore gallants. If they be braue, or _Lords_, A woman is ingag’d.

FIT. I ſay ſo, _Ladies_, It is ciuility to deny vs nothing.

PVG. You talke of a _Vniuerſity_! why, _Hell_ is 170 A Grammar-ſchoole to this!

_The_ Diuell _admires him_.

EIT. But then, Shee muſt not loſe a looke on ſtuffes, or cloth, _Madame_.

TAY. Nor no courſe fellow.

WIT. She muſt be guided, _Madame_ By the clothes he weares, and company he is in; Whom to ſalute, how farre--

FIT. I ha’ told her this. 175 And how that bawdry too, vpo’ the point, Is (in it ſelfe) as ciuill a diſcourſe--

WIT. As any other affayre of fleſh, what euer.

FIT. But ſhee will ne’r be capable, ſhee is not So much as comming, _Madame_; I know not how 180 She loſes all her opportunities With hoping to be forc’d. I’haue entertain’d _He ſhews his_ Pug. A gentleman, a younger brother, here, Whom I would faine breed vp, her _Eſcudero_, Againſt ſome expectation’s that I haue, 185 And ſhe’ll not countenance him.

WIT. What’s his name?

FIT. _Diuel_, o’ _Darbi-ſhire_.

EIT. Bleſſe us from him!

TAY. _Diuell?_ Call him _De-uile_, ſweet _Madame_.

M^rs. FI. What you pleaſe, _Ladies_.

TAY. _De-uile’s_ a prettier name!

EIT. And ſounds, me thinks, As it came in with the _Conquerour_--

MAN. Ouer ſmocks! 190 What things they are? That nature ſhould be at leaſure Euer to make ’hem! my woing is at an end.

Manly _goes out with indignation_.

WIT. What can he do?

EIT. Let’s heare him.

TAY. Can he manage?

FIT. Pleaſe you to try him, _Ladies_. Stand forth, _Diuell_.

PVG. Was all this but the preface to my torment? 195

FIT. Come, let their _Ladiſhips_ ſee your honours.

EIT. O, Hee makes a wicked leg.

TAY. As euer I ſaw!

WIT. Fit for a _Diuell_.

TAY. Good _Madame_, call him _De-uile_.

WIT. _De-uile_, what property is there moſt required I’ your conceit, now, in the _Eſcudero_? 200

_They begin their_ Catechiſme.

FIT. Why doe you not speake?

PVG. A ſetled diſcreet paſe, _Madame_.

WIT. I thinke, a barren head, Sir, Mountaine-like, To be expos’d to the cruelty of weathers--

FIT. I, for his Valley is beneath the waſte, _Madame_, And to be fruitfull there, it is ſufficient. 205 Dulneſſe vpon you! Could not you hit this?

PVG. Good Sir--

_He ſtrikes him._

WIT. He then had had no barren head. You daw him too much, in troth, Sir.

FIT. I muſt walke With the _French_ ſticke, like an old vierger for you.

PVG. O, _Chiefe_, call mee to _Hell_ againe, and free mee. 210

_The_ Diuell _prayes_.

FIT. Do you murmur now?

PVG. Not I, S^r.

WIT. What do you take [152] M^r. _Deuile_, the height of your employment, In the true perfect _Eſcudero_?

FIT. When? What doe you anſwer?

PVG. To be able, _Madame_, Firſt to enquire, then report the working, 215 Of any _Ladies_ phyſicke, in ſweete phraſe.

WIT. Yes, that’s an act of elegance, and importance. But what aboue?

FIT. O, that I had a goad for him.

PVG. To find out a good _Corne-cutter_.

TAY. Out on him!

EIT. Moſt barbarous!

FIT. Why did you doe this, now? 220 Of purpoſe to diſcredit me? you damn’d _Diuell_.

PVG. Sure, if I be not yet, I ſhall be. All My daies in _Hell_, were holy-daies to this!

TAY. ’Tis labour loſt, _Madame_?

EIT. H’is a dull fellow Of no capacity!

TAI. Of no diſcourſe! 225 O, if my _Ambler_ had beene here!

EIT. I, _Madame_; You talke of a man, where is there ſuch another?

WIT. M^r. _Deuile_, put caſe, one of my _Ladies_, heere, Had a fine brach: and would imploy you forth To treate ’bout a conuenient match for her. 230 What would you obſerue?

PVG. The color, and the ſize, _Madame_.

WIT. And nothing elſe?

FIT. The Moon, you calfe, the Moone!

WIT. I, and the Signe.

TAI. Yes, and receits for proneneſſe.

WIT. Then when the _Puppies_ came, what would you doe?

PVG. Get their natiuities caſt!

WIT. This’s wel. What more? 235

PVG. Conſult the _Almanack-man_ which would be leaſt? Which cleanelieſt?

WIT. And which ſilenteſt? This’s wel, _madame_!

WIT. And while ſhe were with puppy?

PVG. Walke her out, And ayre her euery morning!

WIT. Very good! And be induſtrious to kill her fleas? 240

PVG. Yes!

WIT. He will make a pretty proficient.

PVG. Who, Comming from _Hell_, could looke for ſuch Catechiſing? The _Diuell_ is an _Aſſe_. I doe acknowledge it.

FIT. The top of woman! All her ſexe in abſtract! Fitz-dottrel _admires_ Wittipol. I loue her, to each ſyllable, falls from her. 245

TAI. Good _madame_ giue me leaue to goe aſide with him! And try him a little!

WIT. Do, and I’ll with-draw, _Madame_, VVith this faire _Lady_: read to her, the while.

TAI. Come, S^r.

PVG. Deare _Chiefe_, relieue me, or I periſh.

_The_ Diuel _praies again_.

WIT. _Lady_, we’ll follow. You are not iealous Sir? 250

FIT. O, _madame_! you ſhall ſee. Stay wife, behold, I giue her vp heere, abſolutely, to you, She is your owne. Do with her what you will! _He giues his wife to him, taking him to be a_ Lady. Melt, caſt, and forme her as you ſhall thinke good! Set any ſtamp on! I’ll receiue her from you 255 As a new thing, by your owne ſtandard!

VVIT. Well, Sir!

[615] SD. om. G

[616] 1 _Wit._ [_Takes Manly aside._]

[617] 2 SN. om. G wondering G

[618] 8 SN. _Hee_ om. G

[619] 13 o’] of W

[620] 14 had] has W, G

[621] 17 hear. _Wit._ They G

[622] 22 Camphire 1716, f.

[623] 32, 3 _leuante ... di_ om. 1641

[624] 34 _Grosia_ 1641

[625] 35 _Zucchi_ 1641

[626] 36 varnish G

[627] 39 at] as 1716, f.

[628] 43 o’ ret. G

[629] 53 or] nor W, G

[630] 59 SN. om. G

[631] 60 [_Aside._ G

[632] 61 Madam--[_whispers Wit._] G

[633] 63 up. [_Aside to Pug._ G

[634] 70 EIT.] _Lady T._ G

[635] 71 Diamonds 1692, 1716 diamonds W, G

[636] 75 WIT. ...] speech given to TAI. 1716, f.

[637] 76 EIT. ...] speech given to WIT. 1716, f.

[638] 77 guarda W, G

[639] 78 this. [_Points to Trains._ G

[640] 79 in the 1716, f.

[641] 84 onl’ 1692, 1716 only W, G

[642] 89 dance 1692, f. || Handkerchief 1716 handkerchief W, G

[643] 90 This is W, G

[644] 94 dozen 1692, f.

[645] 103 now! [_Aside to Meer._ G

[646] 106 SN.] [_Gives the ring to Mrs. Fitzdottrel._ G Surely 1641 tongue. [_Aside._ G

[647] 107 SN.] [_Aside to Wit._ G

[648] 108 SN. om. [_Exeunt Meer, and Trains_ G

[649] 110 heare? [_Takes Mrs. Fitz. aside._] G You’re 1716, W into] in 1641 schoole 1641 School 1692, 1716 school W, G

[650] 117 SN. om. G

[651] 118 left] let 1641 entered W enter’d G

[652] 120 owne om. G

[653] 121 sha’] she’ 1692 she 1716, f. enjoy’d 1692, f.

[654] 124 your 1641, f.

[655] 125 kindnesse 1641 Kindness 1692, 1716 kindness W, G

[656] 147 Marquess 1692, 1716 marquess W

[657] 149 FIT.] _Eith._ 1716, W _Wit._ They G

[658] 153 SN. om. G || You’re 1716, W

[659] 160 He ’as 1716, W

[660] 162 venture 1692, f.

[661] 164 dance 1641, f.

[662] 168 engag’d W engaged G

[663] 171 SN.] [_Aside._ G

[664] 176 baudery 1641

[665] 182 SN. om. G

[666] 192 SN.] [_Aside, and exit with indignation._ G || Wooing 1692, 1716 wooing W, G

[667] 195 [_Aside._ G

[668] 196 Ladiship 1641

[669] 200, 210 SN. om. G

[670] 201 pase] pause 1641

[671] 207 SN.] [_Fit strikes Pug._ W || _He_ om. G

[672] 208 draw 1716

[673] 209 Virger W verger G

[674] 210 [_Aside._ G

[675] 212 Divele 1641

[676] 223 [_Aside._ G

[677] 224 He’s 1716, W He is G

[678] 229 employ 1692, f.

[679] 235, 237 This’s] This is 1716, f.

[680] 237 cleanliest 1692, f. silent’st 1692. f.

[681] 238 WIT. om. 1692, f.

[682] 242 such] such a W, G

[683] 243 [_Aside._ G

[684] 244 SN.] [_Aside, and looking at Wittipol._ G

[685] 249 SN.] [_Aside._ G

[686] 253 SN. om. G

[687] 256 [_Exit Wit._ Well, sir! [_Exeunt Wittipol with Mrs. Fitz. and Tailbush and Eitherside with Pug._ G

ACT. IIIJ. SCENE. V.

MERE-CRAFT. FITZ-DOTTREL. PIT-FAL. EVER-ILL. PLVTARCHUS.

But what ha’ you done i’ your _Dependance_, ſince? [153]

FIT. O, it goes on, I met your Couſin, the _Maſter_--

MER. You did not acquaint him, S^r?

FIT. Faith, but I did, S^r. And vpon better thought, not without reaſon! He being chiefe _Officer_, might ha’ tane it ill, elſe, 5 As a _Contempt_ againſt his Place, and that In time Sir, ha’ drawne on another _Dependance_. No, I did finde him in good termes, and ready To doe me any ſeruice.

MER. So he said, to you? But S^r, you do not know him.

FIT. VVhy, I presum’d 10 Becauſe this _bus’neſſe_ of my wiues, requir’d mee, I could not ha’ done better: And hee told Me, that he would goe preſently to your _Councell_, A Knight, here, i’ the Lane--

MER. Yes, _Iuſtice Either-ſide_.

FIT. And get the _Feoffment_ drawne, with a letter of _Atturney_, 15 For _liuerie_ and _ſeiſen_!

MER. That I knowe’s the courſe. But Sir, you meane not to make him _Feoffee_?

FIT. Nay, that I’ll pauſe on!

MER. How now little _Pit-fall_.

PIT. Your Couſin Maſter _Euer-ill_, would come in-- But he would know if Maſter _Manly_ were heere. 20

MER. No, tell him, if he were, I ha’ made his peace! Mere-craft _whiſpers againſt him_. Hee’s one, Sir, has no State, and a man knowes not, How such a trust may tempt him.

FIT. I conceiue you.

EVE. S^r. this ſame deed is done here.

MER. Pretty _Plutarchus_? Art thou come with it? and has Sir _Paul_ view’d it? 25

PLV. His hand is to the draught.

MER. VVill you step in, S^r. And read it?

FIT. Yes.

EVE. I pray you a word wi’ you. Eueril _whiſpers against_ Mere-craft. Sir _Paul Eitherside_ will’d mee gi’ you caution, Whom you did make _Feoffee_: for ’tis the truſt O’ your whole State: and though my Cousin heere 30 Be a worthy Gentleman, yet his valour has At the tall board bin queſtion’d: and we hold Any man ſo impeach’d, of doubtfull honesty! I will not iuſtiſie this; but giue it you To make your profit of it: if you vtter it, 35 I can forſweare it!

FIT. I beleeue you, and thanke you, Sir.

[688] SD. V] III. 1641 ACT. ...] SCENE II. _Another Room in the same. Enter_ MEERCRAFT _and_ FITZDOTTREL. G

[689] 5 taken G

[690] 9 service 1641, W, G Service 1692, 1716

[691] 18 on. _Enter_ PITFALL. G

[692] 20 Mr. 1692, 1716 mr. W

[693] 21 [_Exit Pitfall._ SN. om. G

[694] 23 _Enter_ EVERILL _and_ PLUTARCHUS. G

[695] 25 _Poul_ 1692, 1716 Poul W

[696] 27 SN.] [_Aside to Fitz._ G

[697] 28 give 1641, G _Paul_] as in 4.5.25

[698] 36 [_Exeunt._ G

ACT. IIIJ. SCENE. VI.

VVITTIPOL. Mistresse FITZ-DOTTREL. MANLY. MERE-CRAFT.

Be not afraid, ſweet _Lady_: yo’ are truſted [154] To loue, not violence here; I am no rauiſher, But one, whom you, by your faire truſt againe, May of a ſeruant make a moſt true friend.

M^rs. FI. And ſuch a one I need, but not this way: 5 Sir, I confeſſe me to you, the meere manner Of your attempting mee, this morning tooke mee, And I did hold m’inuention, and my manners, Were both engag’d, to giue it a requitall; But not vnto your ends: my hope was then, 10 (Though interrupted, ere it could be vtter’d) That whom I found the Maſter of ſuch language, That braine and ſpirit, for ſuch an enterpriſe, Could not, but if thoſe ſuccours were demanded To a right vſe, employ them vertuouſly! 15 And make that profit of his noble parts, Which they would yeeld. S^r, you haue now the ground, To exerciſe them in: I am a woman: That cannot ſpeake more wretchedneſſe of my ſelfe, Then you can read; match’d to a maſſe of folly; 20 That euery day makes haſte to his owne ruine; The wealthy portion, that I brought him, ſpent; And (through my friends neglect) no ioynture made me. My fortunes ſtanding in this precipice, ’Tis _Counſell_ that I want, and honeſt aides: 25 And in this name, I need you, for a friend! Neuer in any other; for his ill, Muſt not make me, S^r, worſe.

Manly, _conceal’d this while, ſhews himſelf_.

MAN. O friend! forſake not The braue occaſion, vertue offers you, To keepe you innocent: I haue fear’d for both; 30 And watch’d you, to preuent the ill I fear’d. But, ſince the weaker ſide hath ſo aſſur’d mee, Let not the ſtronger fall by his owne vice, Or be the leſſe a friend, cauſe vertue needs him.

WIT. Vertue ſhall neuer aske my ſuccours twice; 35 Moſt friend, moſt man: your _Counſells_ are commands: Lady, I can loue _goodnes_ in you, more [155] Then I did _Beauty_; and doe here intitle Your vertue, to the power, vpon a life You ſhall engage in any fruitfull ſeruice, 40 Euen to forfeit.

MER. _Madame_: Do you heare, Sir, Mere-craft _takes_ Wittipol _aſide,_ & _moues a proiect for himſelfe_. We haue another leg-ſtrain’d, for this _Dottrel_. He’ha’s a quarrell to carry, and ha’s cauſ’d A deed of _Feoffment_, of his whole eſtate To be drawne yonder; h’ha’ſt within: And you, 45 Onely, he meanes to make _Feoffee_. H’is falne So deſperatly enamour’d on you, and talkes Moſt like a mad-man: you did neuer heare A _Phrentick_, ſo in loue with his owne fauour! Now, you doe know, ’tis of no validity 50 In your name, as you ſtand; Therefore aduiſe him To put in me. (h’is come here:) You ſhall ſhare Sir.

[699] SD. SCENE III _Another Room in the same. Enter_ WITTIPOL, _and Mrs._ FITZDOTTREL. G

[700] 1 Yo’] you W

[701] 4 MANLY _enters behind_. G

[702] 8 m’] W, G

[703] 28 SN.] [_comes forward._] G

[704] 40 faithfull 1641

[705] 41 SN.] _Enter_ MEERCRAFT. (after ‘forfeit.’) _Aside to Wittipol._ (after ‘Sir,’) G

[706] 42 leg-strain’d] hyphen om. 1692, f.

[707] 43 He’] H’ 1692, 1716

[708] 45 h’ om. 1641 he W, G

[709] 46 H’is] He’s 1716, W He is G

[710] 49 phrenetic G

[711] 52 me!--_Enter_ FITZDOTTREL, EVERILL, _and_ PLUTARCHUS. G || h’is He’s 1716, f.

ACT. IV. SCENE. VIJ.

WITTIPOL. Miſtreſſe FITZ-DOTTREL. MANLY. MERE-CRAFT. FITZ-DOTTRELL. EVERILL. PLVTARCHVS.

FIT. _Madame_, I haue a ſuit to you; and afore-hand, I doe beſpeake you; you muſt not deny me, I will be graunted.

WIT. Sir, I muſt know it, though.

FIT. No _Lady_; you muſt not know it: yet, you muſt too. For the truſt of it, and the fame indeed, 5 Which elſe were loſt me. I would vfe your name, But in a _Feoffment_: make my whole eſtate Ouer vnto you: a trifle, a thing of nothing, Some eighteene hundred.

WIT. Alas! I vnderſtand not Thoſe things Sir. I am a woman, and moſt loath, 10 To embarque my ſelfe--

FIT. You will not ſlight me, _Madame_?

WIT. Nor you’ll not quarrell me?

FIT. No, ſweet _Madame_, I haue Already a _dependance_; for which cauſe I doe this: let me put you in, deare _Madame_, I may be fairely kill’d.

WIT. You haue your friends, Sir, 15 About you here, for choice.

EVE. She tells you right, Sir.

_Hee hopes to be the man._

FIT. Death, if ſhe doe, what do I care for that? Say, I would haue her tell me wrong.

WIT. Why, Sir, [156] If for the truſt, you’ll let me haue the honor To name you one.

FIT. Nay, you do me the honor, _Madame_: 20 Who is’t?

WIT. This Gentleman:

_Shee deſignes_ Manly.

FIT. O, no, sweet _Madame_, H’is friend to him, with whom I ha’ the _dependance_.

WIT. Who might he bee?

FIT. One _Wittipol_: do you know him?

WIT. Alas Sir, he, a toy: This Gentleman A friend to him? no more then I am Sir! 25

FIT. But will your _Ladyſhip_ vndertake that, _Madame_?

WIT. Yes, and what elſe, for him, you will engage me.

FIT. What is his name?

VVIT. His name is _Euſtace Manly_.

FIT. VVhence do’s he write himſelfe?

VVIT. of _Middle-ſex_, _Eſquire_.

FIT. Say nothing, _Madame_. _Clerke_, come hether 30 VVrite _Euſtace Manly_, Squire o’ _Middle-ſex_.

MER. What ha’ you done, Sir?

VVIT. Nam’d a gentleman, That I’ll be anſwerable for, to you, Sir. Had I nam’d you, it might ha’ beene ſuſpected: This way, ’tis ſafe.

FIT. Come Gentlemen, your hands, 35 For witnes.

MAN. VVhat is this?

EVE. You ha’ made _Election_ Eueril _applaudes it_. Of a moſt worthy _Gentleman_!

MAN. VVould one of worth Had ſpoke it: whence it comes, it is Rather a ſhame to me, then a praiſe.

EVE. Sir, I will giue you any Satisfaction. 40

MAN. Be ſilent then: “falſhood commends not truth”.

PLV. You do deliuer this, Sir, as your deed. To th’ vſe of M^r. _Manly_?

FIT. Yes: and Sir-- VVhen did you ſee yong _Wittipol_? I am ready, For proceſſe now; Sir, this is _Publication_. 45 He ſhall heare from me, he would needes be courting My wife, Sir.

MAN. Yes: So witneſſeth his Cloake there.

FIT. Nay good Sir,--_Madame_, you did vndertake--

Fitz-dottrel _is ſuſpicious of_ Manly _ſtill_.

VVIT. VVhat?

FIT. That he was not _Wittipols_ friend.

VVIT. I heare S^r. no confeſſion of it.

FIT. O ſhe know’s not; 50 Now I remember, _Madame_! This young _Wittipol_, VVould ha’ debauch’d my wife, and made me _Cuckold_, Through a caſement; he did fly her home To mine owne window: but I think I ſou’t him, And rauifh’d her away, out of his pownces. 55 I ha’ ſworne to ha’ him by the eares: I feare The toy, wi’ not do me right.

VVIT. No? that were pitty! VVhat right doe you aske, Sir? Here he is will do’t you?

Wittipol _diſcouers himſelfe_.

FIT. Ha? _Wittipol_?

VVIT. I Sir, no more _Lady_ now, Nor _Spaniard_!

MAN. No indeed, ’tis _Wittipol_. 60

FIT. Am I the thing I fear’d?

VVIT. A _Cuckold_? No Sir, But you were late in poſſibility, I’ll tell you ſo much.

MAN. But your wife’s too vertuous!

VVIT. VVee’ll ſee her Sir, at home, and leaue you here, To be made _Duke o’ Shore-ditch_ with a proiect. [157] 65

FIT. Theeues, rauiſhers.

VVIT. Crie but another note, Sir, I’ll marre the tune, o’ your pipe!

FIT. Gi’ me my deed, then.

_He would haue his_ deed _again_.

VVIT. Neither: that ſhall be kept for your wiues good, VVho will know, better how to vſe it.

FIT. Ha’ To feaſt you with my land?

VVIT. Sir, be you quiet, 70 Or I ſhall gag you, ere I goe, conſult Your Maſter of dependances; how to make this A ſecond buſineſſe, you haue time Sir.

VVitipol _bafflees him, and goes out_.

FIT. Oh! VVhat will the ghoſt of my wiſe Grandfather, My learned _Father_, with my worſhipfull _Mother_, 75 Thinke of me now, that left me in this world In ſtate to be their _Heire_? that am become A _Cuckold_, and an _Aſſe_, and my wiues Ward; Likely to looſe my land; ha’ my throat cut: All, by her practice!

MER. Sir, we are all abus’d! 80

FIT. And be ſo ſtill! VVho hinders you, I pray you, Let me alone, I would enioy my ſelfe, And be the _Duke o’ Drown’d-Land_, you ha’ made me.

MER. Sir, we muſt play an _after-game_ o’ this.

FIT. But I am not in caſe to be a _Gam-ſter_: 85 I tell you once againe--

MER. You muſt be rul’d And take some counſell.

FIT. Sir, I do hate counſell, As I do hate my wife, my wicked wife!

MER. But we may thinke how to recouer all: If you will act.

FIT. I will not think; nor act; 90 Nor yet recouer; do not talke to me? I’ll runne out o’ my witts, rather then heare; I will be what I am, _Fabian Fitz-Dottrel_, Though all the world ſay nay to’t.

MER. Let’s follow him.

[712] SD. om. G

[713] 3 granted 1692, f.

[714] 16 SN. om. G

[715] 21 SN. _She_ om. W _She_ ...] [_Pointing to Manly._ G

[716] 22 He’s 1716, f.

[717] 30 [_To Plutarchus._ G || hither 1692, f.

[718] 32 sir? [_Aside to Wit._ G

[719] 36 SN. om. G

[720] 38 it! but now whence W, G

[721] 39 to] unto W, G

[722] 43 [_To Manly._ G

[723] 48 SN. om. G

[724] 49 VVIT. _What._ 1641

[725] 53 Thorow 1692 Thorough 1716, f.

[726] 54 sou’t] fou’t 1692 fought 1716, W sous’d G

[727] 58 SN. Wittipol om. G

[728] 67 SN. om. G

[729] 69 Ha! 1692, f.

[730] 73 SN.] [_Baffles him, and exit with Manly._ G

[731] 82 injoy 1641

[732] 94 to’t. [_Exit._ G || Let’s Let us W, G || him. [_Exeunt._ G

ACT. V. SCENE. I. [158]

AMBLER. PITFALL. MERE-CRAFT.

Bvt ha’s my Lady miſt me?

PIT. Beyond telling! Here ha’s been that infinity of ſtrangers! And then ſhe would ha’ had you, to ha’ ſampled you VVith one within, that they are now a teaching; And do’s pretend to your ranck.

AMB. Good fellow _Pit-fall_, 5 Tel M^r. _Mere-craft_, I intreat a word with him. Pitfall _goes out_. This most vnlucky accident will goe neare To be the loſſe o’ my place; I am in doubt!

MER. VVith me? what ſay you M^r _Ambler_?

AMB. Sir, I would beſeech your worſhip ſtand betweene 10 Me, and my _Ladies_ diſpleaſure, for my abſence.

MER. O, is that all? I warrant you.

AMB. I would tell you Sir But how it happened.

MER. Brief, good Maſter _Ambler_, Put your selfe to your rack: for I haue taſque Of more importance. Mere-craft _ſeemes full of buſineſſe_.

AMB. Sir you’ll laugh at me? 15 But (ſo is _Truth_) a very friend of mine, Finding by conference with me, that I liu’d Too chaſt for my complexion (and indeed Too honeſt for my place, Sir) did aduiſe me If I did loue my ſelfe (as that I do, 20 I muſt confeſſe)

MER. Spare your _Parentheſis_.

AMB. To gi’ my body a little euacuation--

MER. Well, and you went to a whore?

AMB. No, S^r. I durſt not (For feare it might arriue at ſome body’s eare, It ſhould not) truſt my ſelfe to a common houſe; 25 Ambler _tels this with extraordinary ſpeed_. But got the Gentlewoman to goe with me, And carry her bedding to a _Conduit-head_, Hard by the place toward _Tyborne_, which they call My L. Majors _Banqueting-houſe_. Now Sir, This morning Was _Execution_; and I ner’e dream’t on’t 30 Till I heard the noiſe o’ the people, and the horſes; And neither I, nor the poore Gentlewoman [159] Durſt ſtirre, till all was done and paſt: ſo that I’ the _Interim_, we fell a ſleepe againe.

_He flags_.

MER. Nay, if you fall, from your gallop, I am gone S^r. 35

AMB. But, when I wak’d, to put on my cloathes, a ſute, I made new for the action, it was gone, And all my money, with my purſe, my ſeales, My hard-wax, and my table-bookes, my ſtudies, And a fine new deuiſe, I had to carry 40 My pen, and inke, my ciuet, and my tooth-picks, All vnder one. But, that which greiu’d me, was The Gentlewoman’s ſhoes (with a paire of roſes, And garters, I had giuen her for the buſineſſe) So as that made vs ſtay, till it was darke. 45 For I was faine to lend her mine, and walke In a rug, by her, barefoote, to Saint _Giles’es_.

MER. A kind of Iriſh penance! Is this all, Sir?

AMB. To ſatisfie my _Lady_.

MER. I will promiſe you, S^r.

AMB. I ha’ told the true _Diſaſter_.

MER. I cannot ſtay wi’ you 50 Sir, to condole; but gratulate your returne.

AMB. An honeſt gentleman, but he’s neuer at leiſure To be himſelfe: He ha’s ſuch tides of buſineſſe.

[733] SD. AMBLER ...] _A Room in_ Tailbush’s _House. Enter_ AMBLER _and_ PITFALL. G

[734] 6 entreat W, G || SN.] [_Exit Pitfall._ G

[735] 8 _Enter_ MEERCRAFT. G

[736] 12 that] this 1641

[737] 14 a tasque 1641

[738] 15 SN. om. G

[739] 16 () ret. G.

[740] 25 SN. Ambler om. G

[741] 29 Mayor’s 1716, f.

[742] 30 never W, G

[743] 34 SN. _slags_ 1641

[744] 43, 4 (with ... garters,) W || () ret. G

[745] 51, 3 [_Exit._ G

ACT. V. SCENE. II.

PVG. AMBLER.

O, Call me home againe, deare _Chiefe_, and put me To yoaking foxes, milking of Hee-goates, Pounding of water in a morter, lauing The ſea dry with a nut-ſhell, gathering all The leaues are falne this _Autumne_, drawing farts 5 Out of dead bodies, making ropes of ſand, Catching the windes together in a net, Muſtring of ants, and numbring atomes; all That hell, and you thought exquiſite torments, rather Then ſtay me here, a thought more: I would ſooner 10 Keepe fleas within a circle, and be accomptant A thouſand yeere, which of ’hem and how far Out leap’d the other, then endure a minute Such as I haue within. There is no hell To a _Lady_ of faſhion. All your torture there 15 Are paſtimes to it. ’T would be a refreſhing [160] For me, to be i’ the fire againe, from hence.

Ambler _comes in, & ſuruayes him_.

AMB. This is my ſuite, and thoſe the ſhoes and roſes!

PVG. Th’ haue such impertinent vexations, A generall Councell o’ _diuels_ could not hit-- 20 Pug _perceiues it, and ſtarts_. Ha! This is hee, I tooke a ſleepe with his _Wench_, And borrow’d his cloathes. What might I doe to balke him?

AMB. Do you heare, S^r?

PVG. Answ. him but not to th’purpoſe

AMB. What is your name, I pray you Sir.

PVG. Is’t ſo late Sir?

_He anſwers quite from the purpoſe._

AMB. I aske not o’ the time, but of your name, Sir. 25

PVG. I thanke you, Sir. Yes it dos hold Sir, certaine.

AMB. Hold, Sir? what holds? I muſt both hold, and talke to you About theſe clothes.

PVG. A very pretty lace! But the _Taylor_ coſſend me.

AMB. No, I am coſſend By you! robb’d.

PVG. Why, when you pleaſe Sir, I am 30 For three peny _Gleeke_, your man.

AMB. Pox o’ your _gleeke_, And three pence. Giue me an anſwere.

PVG. Sir, My maſter is the beſt at it.

AMB. Your maſter! Who is your Maſter.

PVG. Let it be friday night.

AMB. What ſhould be then?

PVG. Your beſt ſongs _Thom. o’ Bet’lem_ 35

AMB. I thinke, you are he. Do’s he mocke me trow, from purpoſe? Or do not I ſpeake to him, what I meane? Good Sir your name.

PVG. Only a couple a’ _Cocks_ Sir, If we can get a _Widgin_, ’tis in ſeaſon.

AMB. He hopes to make on o’ theſe _Scipticks_ o’ me 40 _For_ Scepticks. (I thinke I name ’hem right) and do’s not fly me. I wonder at that! ’tis a ſtrange confidence! I’ll prooue another way, to draw his anſwer.

[746] SD.] SCENE II. _Another Room in the Same. Enter_ PUG. G

[747] 8 mustering G numbering G

[748] 17 SN.] _Enter_ AMBLER, _and surveys him_. G

[749] 18 [_Aside._ G

[750] 19 They’ve W They have G

[751] 20 SN. om. 1641 [_sees Ambler._] G

[752] 22,3 [_Aside._ G

[753] 23 him om. 1641

[754] 24, 40 SN. om. G

[755] 31 o’ ret. G

[756] 35 _Tom_ 1641, G || o’ ret. G || _Bethlem_ 1716, G Bethlem W

[757] 38 a’] o’ 1692, 1716, W of G

[758] 40 on] one 1641, f.

[759] 41 () ret. G

[760] 43 [_Exeunt severally._ G

ACT. V. SCENE. IIJ.

MERE-CRAFT. FITZ-DOTTREL. EVERILL. PVG.

It is the eaſieſt thing Sir, to be done. As plaine, as fizzling: roule but wi’ your eyes, And foame at th’ mouth. A little caſtle-ſoape Will do’t, to rub your lips: And then a nutſhell, With toe, and touch-wood in it to ſpit fire, 5 Did you ner’e read, Sir, little _Darrels_ tricks, With the boy o’ _Burton_, and the 7. in _Lancaſhire, Sommers_ at _Nottingham_? All theſe do teach it. And wee’ll giue out, Sir, that your wife ha’s bewitch’d you: [161]

_They repaire their old plot_.

EVE. And practiſed with thoſe two, as _Sorcerers_. 10

MER. And ga’ you potions, by which meanes you were Not _Compos mentis_, when you made your _feoffment_. There’s no recouery o’ your ſtate, but this: This, Sir, will ſting.

EVE. And moue in a Court of equity.

MER. For, it is more then manifeſt, that this was 15 A plot o’ your wiues, to get your land.

FIT. I thinke it.

EVE. Sir it appeares.

MER. Nay, and my coſſen has knowne Theſe gallants in theſe ſhapes.

EVE. T’haue don ſtrange things, Sir. One as the _Lady_, the other as the _Squire_.

MER. How, a mans honeſty may be fool’d! I thought him 20 A very _Lady_.

FIT. So did I: renounce me elſe.

MER. But this way, Sir, you’ll be reueng’d at height.

EVE. Vpon ’hem all.

MER. Yes faith, and ſince your Wife Has runne the way of woman thus, e’en giue her--

FIT. Loſt by this hand, to me, dead to all ioyes 25 Of her deare _Dottrell_, I ſhall neuer pitty her: That could, pitty her ſelfe.

MER. Princely reſolu’d Sir, And like your ſelfe ſtill, in _Potentiâ_.

[761] SD.] SCENE III. _A Room in_ Fitzdottrel’s _House. Enter_ MEERCRAFT, FITZDOTTREL, _and_ EVERILL. G

[762] 2 Roll 1692, 1716 roll W, G

[763] 9 SN. om. G

[764] 11 gave G

[765] 13 estate 1641

[766] 18 shapes--G

[767] 27 could not pity W could [not] pity G

ACT. V. SCENE. IV.

MERE-CRAFT, &c. _to them_. GVILT-HEAD. SLEDGE. PLVTARCHVS. SERIEANTS.

_Gvilt-head_ What newes?

FIT. O Sir, my hundred peices: Let me ha’ them yet.

Fitz-dottrel _aſkes for his money_.

GVI. Yes Sir, officers Arreſt him.

FIT. Me?

SER. I arreſt you.

SLE. Keepe the peace, I charge you gentlemen.

FIT. Arreſt me? Why?

GVI. For better ſecurity, Sir. My ſonne _Plutarchus_ 5 Aſſures me, y’are not worth a groat.

PLV. Pardon me, _Father_, I said his worſhip had no foote of Land left: And that I’ll iuſtifie, for I writ the deed.

FIT. Ha’ you theſe tricks i’ the citty?

GVI. Yes, and more. Arreſt this gallant too, here, at my ſuite. 10

_Meaning_ Mere-craft.

SLE. I, and at mine. He owes me for his lodging Two yeere and a quarter.

MER. Why M. _Guilt-head_, Land-Lord, Thou art not mad, though th’art _Constable_ Puft vp with th’ pride of the place? Do you heare, Sirs. Haue I deſeru’d this from you two? for all 15 My paines at _Court_, to get you each a patent.

GVI. For what?

MER. Vpo’ my proiect o’ the _forkes_,

SLE. _Forkes?_ what be they? [162]

_The_ Project _of forks_.

MER. The laudable vſe of forkes, Brought into cuſtome here, as they are in _Italy_, To th’ ſparing o’ _Napkins_. That, that ſhould haue made 20 Your bellowes goe at the forge, as his at the fornace. I ha’ procur’d it, ha’ the Signet for it, Dealt with the _Linnen-drapers_, on my priuate, By cause, I fear’d, they were the likelyeſt euer To ſtirre againſt, to croſſe it; for ’twill be 25 A mighty ſauer of _Linnen_ through the kingdome (As that is one o’ my grounds, and to ſpare waſhing) Now, on you two, had I layd all the profits. _Guilt-head_ to haue the making of all thoſe Of gold and ſiluer, for the better perſonages; 30 And you, of thoſe of _Steele_ for the common ſort. And both by _Pattent_, I had brought you your ſeales in. But now you haue preuented me, and I thanke you.

Sledge _is brought about_.

SLE. Sir, I will bayle you, at mine owne ap-perill.

MER. Nay chooſe.

PLV. Do you ſo too, good Father. 35

_And_ Guilt-head _comes_.

GVI. I like the faſhion o’ the proiect, well, The forkes! It may be a lucky one! and is not Intricate, as one would ſay, but fit for Plaine heads, as ours, to deale in. Do you heare _Officers_, we diſcharge you.

MER. Why this ſhewes 40 A little good nature in you, I confeſſe, But do not tempt your friends thus. Little _Guilt-head_, Aduiſe your ſire, great _Guilt-head_ from theſe courſes: And, here, to trouble a great man in reuerſion, For a matter o’ fifty on a falſe _Alarme_, 45 Away, it ſhewes not well. Let him get the pieces And bring ’hem. Yo’ll heare more elſe.

PLV. _Father._

[768] SD. MERE. ... _them_] _To them._ Mere-craft &c. 1692 MERE-CRAFT, &c. om. 1716. W

[769] ACT. ...] _Enter_ GILTHEAD, PLUTARCHUS, SLEDGE, _and_ Serjeants. G

[770] 2 SN. om. G

[771] 3 SER.] I _Serj._ G

[772] 6 y’] you W, G

[773] 10 SN.] [_Points to Meercraft._ G

[774] 13 th’] thou W, G

[775] 18 SN. om. G

[776] 23, 4 private Bie, ’cause 1692, 1716 private, Because W, G

[777] 27 to] so 1641

[778] 33, 5 SN. om. G

[779] 37, 8 Not intricate (l. 38) G

[780] 40 you. [_Exeunt Serjeants._ G

[781] 45 on] in W, G

[782] 47 You’ll 1692, 1716 You’ll W || _Exeunt Gilt. and Plut. Enter_ AMBLER, _dragging in_ PUG. G

ACT. V. SCENE. V.

AMBLER. {_To them._

O Maſter _Sledge_, are you here? I ha’ been to ſeeke you. You are the _Conſtable_, they ſay. Here’s one That I do charge with _Felony_, for the ſuite He weares, Sir.

MER. Who? M. _Fitz-Dottrels_ man? Ware what you do, M. _Ambler_.

AMB. Sir, theſe clothes 5 I’ll ſweare, are mine: and the ſhooes the gentlewomans I told you of: and ha’ him afore a _Iuſtice_, [163] I will.

PVG. My maſter, Sir, will paſſe his word for me.

AMB. O, can you ſpeake to purpoſe now?

FIT. Not I, If you be ſuch a one Sir, I will leaue you 10 To your _God fathers_ in Law. Let twelue men worke.

Fitz-dottrel _diſclaimes him_.

PVG. Do you heare Sir, pray, in priuate.

FIT. well, what ſay you? Briefe, for I haue no time to looſe.

PVG. Truth is, Sir, I am the very _Diuell_, and had leaue To take this body, I am in, to ſerue you; 15 Which was a _Cutpurſes_, and hang’d this Morning. And it is likewiſe true, I ſtole this ſuite To cloth me with. But Sir let me not goe To priſon for it. I haue hitherto Loſt time, done nothing; ſhowne, indeed, no