90H, that ever I was born, that ever I was born!

10Sir Godfrey. Nay good sister, dear sister,

11sweet sister, be of good comfort, shew your

12self a woman, now or never.

13Wid. Oh, I have lost the dearest man, I have buried

14the sweetest husband that ever lay by woman.

15Sir God. Nay give him his due, he was indeed an ho-

16nest, virtuous, discreet wise man,---he was my Brother,

17as right, as right.

18Wid. O, I shall never forget him, never forget him,

19he was a man so well given to a woman---oh!

20Sir God. Nay, but kind sister, I could weep as much

21as any woman, but alass, our teares cannot call him again:

22me thinks you are well read, sister, and know that death

23is as common as Homo, a common name to all men;---a

24man shall be taken when he's making water,---nay,

25did not the learned Parson Master Pigman tell us e'ne

26now, that all Flesh is frail, we are born to die, Man has

27but a time: with such like deep and profound perswasi-

28ons, as he is a rare fellow you know, and an excellent

29Reader: and for example, (as there are examples abun-

30dance) did not Sir Humphrey Bubble die tother day,

31there's a lusty Widow, why she cri'd not above half an

32hour---for shame, for shame: then followed him old Ma-

33ster Fulsome the Usurer, there's a wise Widow, why she

34cry'd ne're a whit at all.

35Wid. O ranck not me with those wicked women, I

36had a husband out-shin'd 'em all.

37Sir God. I that he did, ifaith, he out-shin'd 'em all.

38Wid. Dost thou stand there and see us all weep, and

39not once shed a tear for thy fathers death? oh thou un-

40gracious son and heir thou?

41Edm. Troth, Mother, I should not weep I'me sure;

42I am past a Child I hope, to make all my old School-fel-

43lowes laugh at me; I should be mockt, so I should; pray

44let one of my sisters weep for me, I'le laugh as much for

45her another time?

46Wid. O thou past-Grace thou, out of my sight, thou

47gracelesse Imp, thou grievest me more then the death of

48thy Father: oh thou stubborn onely Son: hadst thou such

49an honest man to thy Father---that would deceive all the

50world to get riches for thee, and canst thou not afford a

51little salt water? he that so wisely did quite overthrow

52the right heir of those Lands, which now you respect not:

53up every morning betwixt four and five, so duely at West-

54minster-Hall every Tearm-time, with all his Cards and

55Writings, for thee, thou wicked Absalon---oh dear hus-

56band!

57Edm. Weep, quotha? I protest I am glad he's Chur-

58ched? for now he's gone I shall spend in quiet.

59Fran.Dear Mother, pray cease, half your teares suffice,

60'Tis time for you to take truce with your eyes,

61Let me weep now?

62Wid. O such a dear Knight, such a sweet Husband have

63I lost, have I lost?----if blessed be the Coarse the rain

64rains upon, he had it, pouring down?

65Sir. God. Sister, be of good cheer, we are all mortall

66our selves, I come upon you freshly, I ne're speak without

67comfort, hear me what I shall say;---my brother has left

68you wealthy, y'are rich.

69Wid. Oh!

70Sir God. I say y'are rich: you are also fair.

71Wid. Oh!

72Sir God. Go to, y'are fair, you cannot smother it,

73beauty will come to light; nor are your yeares so far en-

74ter'd with you, but that you will be sought after, and

75may very well answer another husband; the world is

76full of fine Gallants, choyce enow, sister,---for what

77should we doe with all our Knights I pray? but to marry

78rich Widowes, wealthy Citizens Widowes; lusty fair-

79brow'd Ladies; go to, be of good comfort I say, leave

80snobbing and weeping---yet my Brother was a kind-

81hearted man---I would not have the Elf see me now?

82---come, pluck up a womans heart---here stands your

83Daughters, who be well estated, and at maturity will also

84be enquir'd after with good husbands, so all these teares

85shall be soon dried up, and a better world then ever----

86what, Woman? you must not weep still? he's dead, he's

87buried---yet I cannot chuse but weep for him.

88Wid. Marry again! no, let me be buried quick then!

89And that same part of Quire whereon I tread

90To such intent, O may it be my grave:

91And that the Priest may turn his wedding prayers,

92Even with a breath, to funerall dust and ashes;

93Oh, out of a million of millions, I should ne're find such

94a husband; he was unmatchable---unmatchable: nothing

95was so hot, nor too dear for me, I could not speak of

96that one thing that I had not, beside, I had keyes of all,

97kept all, receiv'd all, had money in my purse, spent what

98I would, went abroad when I would, came home when I

99would, and did all what I would: Oh---my sweet hus-

100band; I shall never have the like.

101Sir God. Sister? ne're say so, he was an honest Bro-

102ther of mine, and so, and you may light upon one as ho-

103nest again, or one, as honest again may light upon you,

104that's the properer phrase indeed.

105Wid. Never: oh if you love me urge it not:

106Oh may I be the by-word of the world,

107The common talk at Table in the mouth

108Of every Groom and Waiter, if e're more

109I entertain the carnall suit of man.

110Mol. I must kneel down for fashion too.

111Franck. And I, whom never man as yet hath scal'd,

112E'ne in this depth of generall sorrow, vow

113Never to marry, to sustain such losse,

114As a dear husband seems to be, once dead.

115Mol. I lov'd my Father well too; but to say,

116Nay vow, I would not marry for his death,

117Sure I should speak false Latin, should I not?

118I'de as soon vow never to come in Bed:

119Tut, Women must live by th' quick, and not by th' dead.

120Wid. Dear Copy of my husband, oh let me kiss thee:

122How like him is their Model; their brief Picture

123Quickens my teares: my sorrowes are renew'd

124At their fresh sight.

125Sir God. Sister---

126Wid. Away,

127All honesty with him is turn'd to clay,

128Oh my sweet husband, oh----

130Mol. Here's a puling indeed! I think my Mother

131weeps for all the women that ever buried husbands: for if

132from time to time all the Widowers teares in England

133had been bottled up, I doe not think all would have fill'd

134a three-half-penny Bottle: alass, a small matter bucks a

135Handkercher,----and sometimes the spittle stands too

136nigh Saint Thomas a Watrings: well, I can mourn in

137good sober sort as well as another? but where I spend one

138tear for a dead Father, I could give twenty kisses for a

140Sir God. Well, go thy wayes, old Sir Godfrey, and

141thou may'st be proud on't, thou hast a kind loving sister-

142in-law: how constant? how passionate? how full of A-

143pril the poor soules eyes are; well, I would my Brother

144knew on't, he should then know what a kind Wife he

145had left behind him; truth, and 'twere not for shame that

146the neighbours at th'next Garden should hear me be-

147twixt joy and grief, I should e'ne cry out-right.

149Edmond. So, a fair riddance, my Father's laid in dust,

150his Coffin and he is like a whole Meat-Pye, and the

151wormes will cut him up shortly: farewell, old Dad, fare-

152well; I'le be curb'd in no more: I perceive a son and heir

153may quickly be made a fool and he will be one, but I'le

154take another order;---Now she would have me weep

155for him forsooth, and why; because he cozen'd the right

156heir being a fool, and bestow'd those Lands on me his

157eldest Son; and therefore I must weep for him, ha, ha:

158why all the world knowes, as long as 'twas his pleasure to

159get me, 'twas his duty to get for me: I know the Law in

160that point, no Atturney can gull me. Well, my Unckle

161is an old Asse, and an admirable Coxcombe, I'le rule the

162Roast my self, I'le be kept under no more, I know what

163I may doe well enough by my Fathers Copy: the Law's

164in mine own hands now: nay now I know my strength,

165I'le be strong enough for my Mother I warrant you?

169Pye. What's to be done now, old Lad of War, thou

170that wert wont to be as hot as a turn-spit, as nimble as a

171Fencer, and as lowsie as a Schoole-master; now thou

172art put to silence like a Sectary,---War sits now like a

173Justice of peace, and does nothing: where be your Mus-

174kets, Calivers and Hotshots? in Long-lane, at pawn, at

175pawn;---Now keyes are our onely Guns, Key-guns, Key-

176guns, and Bawdes the Gunners,---who are your senti-

177nells in peace, and stand ready charg'd to give warning;

178with hems, hums, and pocky-coffs; onely your Chambers

179are licenst to play upon you, and Drabs enow to give fire

180to 'em.

181Skir. Well, I cannot tell, but I am sure it goes wrong

182with me, for since the cessure of the wars, I have spent a-

183bove a hundred Crownes out a purse: I have been a Sol-

184dier any time this forty yeares, and now I perceive an old

185Soldier, and an old Courtier have both one destiny, and in

186the end turn both into hob-nayles.

187Pye. Pretty mystery for a Beggar, for indeed a hob-

188naile is the true embleme of a Beggar's Shoe-soale.

189Skir. I will not say but that War is a bloud-sucker,

190and so; but in my conscience, (as there is no soldier but

191has a piece of one, though it be full of holes like a shot

192Ancient, no matter, 'twill serve to swear by) in my con-

193science, I think some kinde of Peace has more hidden op-

194pressions, and violent heady sins, (though looking of a

195gentle nature) then a profest warre.

196Pye. Troth, and for mine own part, I am a poor Gen-

197tleman, and a Schollar, I have been matriculated in the

198University, wore out six Gowns there, seen some fools,

199and some Schollars, some of the City, and some of the

200Countrey, kept order, went bare-headed over the Qua-

201drangle, eat my Commons with a good stomack, and

202Battled with Discretion; at last, having done many

203slights and tricks to maintain my wit in use (as my brain

204would never endure me to be idle,) I was expell'd the

205University, onely for stealing a Cheese out of Jesus Col-

206ledge.

207Skir. Is't possible?

208Pye. Oh! there was one Welshman (God forgive him)

209pursued it hard? and never left, till I turn'd my staffe to-

210ward London, where when I came, all my friends were

211pit-hold, gone to Graves, (as indeed there was but a few

212left before) then was I turn'd to my wits, to shift in the

213world, to towre among Sons and Heires, and Fooles, and

214Gulls, and Ladies eldest Sons, to work upon nothing, to

215feed out of Flint, and ever since has my belly been much

216beholding to my brain: But now to return to you, old

217Skirmish. I say as you say, and for my part wish a Tur-

218bulency in the world, for I have nothing in the world,

219but my wits, and I think they are as mad as they will be:

220and to strengthen your Argument the more, I say an ho-

221nest warre, is better than a bawdy peace: as touching

222my profession; the multiplicity of Schollars, hatcht, and

223nourisht in the idle Calmes of peace, makes'em like Fi-

224shes one devour another; and the communitie of Learn-

225ing has so plaid upon affections, and there by almost Re-

226ligion is come about to Phantasie, and discredited by be-

227ing too much spoken of--in so many and mean mouths. I

228my self being a Schollar and a Graduate, have no other

229comfort by my learning, but the affection of my words,

230to know how Schollar-like to name what I want, and

231can call my self a Beggar both in Greek and Latine, and

232therefore not to cog with Peace, I'le not be afraid to say,

233'tis a great Breeder, but a bad Nourisher: a great getter

234of Child

ren, which must either be Thieves or Rich men,

235Knaves or Beggars.

236Skirmish. Well, would I had been born a Knave then,

237when I was born a Beggar, for if the truth were known,

238I think I was begot when my Father had never a penny

239in his purse.

240Pye.Puh, faint not old Skirmish, let this warrant thee,

241Facilis Descensus Averni, 'tis an easie journey to a

242Knave, thou maist be a Knave when thou wilt; and

243Peace is a good Madam to all other professions, and an

244arrant Drab to us, let us handle her accordingly, and by

245our wits thrive in despight of her; for the law lives by

246quarrels, the Courtier by smooth good-morrows, and

247every profession makes it self greater by imperfections,

248why not we then by shifts, wiles, and forgeries? and

249seeing our brains are the onely Patrimonies, let's spend

250with judgement, not like a desperate son and heir, but

251like a sober and discreet Templer,---one that will never

252march beyond the bounds of his allowance, and for our

253thriving means, thus, I my self will put on the Deceit of

254a Fortune-teller, a Fortune-teller.

255Skirm. Very proper.

256Pye. And you a figure-caster, or a Conjurer.

257Skir. A Conjurer.

258Pye. Let me alone, I'le instruct you, and teach you to

259deceive all eyes, but the Devils.

260Skir. Oh I, for I would not deceive him and I could

261choose, of all others.

262Pye. Fear not I warrant you; and so by these means

263we shall help one another to Patients, as the condition of

264the age affords creatures enow for cunning to work upon.

265Skir. Oh wondrous, new fools and fresh asses.

266Pye. Oh, fit, fit, excellent.

267Skir. What in the name of Conjuring?

268Pye-boord. My memory greets me happily with an ad-

269mirable subject to graze upon. The Lady-Widow, who

270of late I saw weeping in her Garden, for the death of her

271Husband, sure she's but a watrish soul, and half on't by

272this time is dropt out of her eyes: device well manag'd

273may do good upon her: it stands firme, my first practise

274shall be there.

275Skir. You have my voice, George.

276Pye-board. Sh'as a gray Gull to her Brother, a fool to

277her onely son, and an ape to her youngest Daughter;---

278I over-heard'em severally, and from their words I'le drive

279my device; and thou old Peter Skirmish shalt be my se-

280cond in all slights.

281Skir. Ne're doubt me, George Pye-board,----only you

282must teach me to conjure.

285Pye. Puh, I'le perfect thee, Peter:

286How now? what's he?

287Skir. Oh George! this sight kills me,

288'Tis my sworn Brother, Captain Idle.

289Pye. Captain Idle.

290Skir. Apprehended for some fellonious act or other,

291he has started out, h'as made a Night on't, lackt silver;

292I cannot but commend his resolution, he would not pawn

293his Buff-Jerkin, I would either some of us were employed,

294or might pitch our Tents at Usurers doors, to kill the

295slaves as they peep out at the Wicket.

296Pye. Indeed those are our ancient enemies; they keep

297our money in their hands, and make us to be hang'd for

298robbing of'em, but come let's follow after to the Prison,

299and know the nature of his offence, and what we can

300stead him in, he shall be sure of; and I'le uphold it still,

301that a charitable Knave, is better then a soothing Puri-

302tan. Exeunt.

309Nich. What Corporal Oath? I am sorry we have

310met with you next our hearts; you are the man that we

311are forbidden to keep company withall, we must not

312swear I can tell you, and you have the name for swearing.

313Sim. I, Corporal Oath, I would you would do so

314much as forsake us, we cannot abide you, we must not be

315seen in your company.

316Frail. There is none of us I can tell you, but shall be

317soundly whipt for swearing.

318Corp. Why how now? we three? Puritanical Scrape-

319shooes, Flesh a good Fridayes; a hand.

320All. Oh.

321Corp. Why Nicholas Saint-Tantlings, Simon Saint

322Mary-Overies, has the De'il possest you, that you swear

323no better, you half-Christened Katomites, you ungod-

324mother'd Varlets, do's the first lesson teach you to be

325proud, and the second to be Cox-combs; proud Cox-

326combs; not once to do duty to a man of Mark.

327Frail. A man of Mark, quatha, I do not think he can

328shew a Beggars Noble.

329Corp. A Corporal, a Commander, one of spirit, that

330is able to blow you up all drye with your Books at your

331Girdles.

332Simon. We are not taught to believe that, sir, for we

334Frail. Foh, you lie Nicholas; for here's one strong

335enough; blows us up, quatha, he may well blow me above

336twelve-score off on him: I warrant if the wind stood

337right, a man might smell him from the top of Newgate, to

338the the Leads of Ludgate.

339Corp. Sirrah, thou hollow book of Wax-candle.

340Nich. I, you may say what you will, so you swear not.

341Corp. I swear by the------

342Nich. Hold, hold, good Corporal Oath; for if you

343swear once, we shall fall down in a sown presently.

344Corp. I must and will swear: you quivering Cox-

345combs, my Captain is imprisoned, and by Vulcan's Lea-

346ther Cod-piece point---------

347Nich. O Simon, what an oath was there.

348Frail. If he should chance to break it, the poor man's

349Breeches would fall down about his heels, for Venus al-

350lows but one point to his hose.

351Cor. With these, my Bully-Feet, I will thump ope the

352Prison doors, and brain the Keeper with the begging-

353Box, but I'le set my honest sweet Captain Idle at liberty.

354Nic. How, Captain Idle? my old Aunts son, my

355dear Kinsman in Cappadochio.

356Cor. I, thou Church-peeling, thou Holy-paring, Reli-

357ligious out-side thou; if thou had'st any grace in thee,

358thou would'st visit him, relieve him, swear to get him out.

359Nic. Assure you, Corporal, indeed-la, 'tis the first

360time I heard on't.

361Cor. Why do't now then, Marmaset; bring forth

362thy yearly-wages, let not a Commander perish?

363Simon. But if he be one of the wicked, he shall pe-

364rish.

365Nic. Well Corporal, I'le e'en along with you, to visit

366my Kinsman, if I can do him any good, I will,---but I

367have nothing for him, Simon Saint Mary Overies and

368Frailty, pray make a Lye for me to the Knight my Ma-

369ster, old Sir Godfrey.

370Cor. A Lye? may you lye then?

371Frail. O I, we may lye, but we must not swear.

372Sim. True, we may lie with our Neighbour's wife,

373but we must not swear we did so.

374Cor. Oh, an excellent Tag of Religion!

375Nic.Oh Simon, I have thought upon a sound ex-

376cuse, it will go currant, say that I am gon to a Fast.

377Sim. To a Fast? very good.

378Nic. I, to a Fast say, with master Full-belly the Minister.

379Sim. Master Full-belly? an honest man: he feeds the

380flock well, for he's an excellent Feeder.

382Frail. O I, I have seen him eat up a whole Pig, and

388Pye. Pray turn the key.

389Skir. Turn the key I pray?

390Cap. Who should those be, I almost know their voices?

391O my friends! Entring.

392Y'are welcome to a smelling Room here? you newly

393took leave of the air, is't not a strange savour?

394Pie. As all Prison's have smells of sundry wretches;

395Who though departed, leave their sents behind 'em,

396By Gold Captain, I am sincerely sorry for thee.

397Cap. By my troth, George, I thank thee; but, pish--

398what must be, must be.

399Skir. Captain, what do you lie in for? is't great?

400what's your offence?

401Cap. Faith, my offence is ordinary,--common, a

402High-way, and I fear me my penalty will be ordinary

403and common too, a Halter.

404Pye. Nay, prophesie not so ill, it shall go hard

405But I'le shift for thy life.

406Cap. Whether I live or dye, thou'rt an honest George.

407I'le tell you---Silver flow'd not with me, as it had done,

408(for now the tide runs to Bawds and Flatterers) I had a

409start out, and by chance set upon a fat Steward, thinking

410his Purse had been as pursie as his body; and the slave

411had about him but the poor purchase of ten groats: not-

412withstanding being descryed, pursued, and taken, I know

413the Law is so grim, in respect of many desperate, unset-

414led Souldiers, that I fear me I shall dance after their pipe

415for't.

416Skir. I am twice sorry for you, Captain; first, that

417your purchase was so small, and now that your danger is

418so great.

419Cap. Push, the worst is but death,---ha you a pipe of

420Tobacco about you?

421Skir. I think I have thereabouts about me!

423Cap. Here's a clean Gentlman too, to receive.

424Pye. Well, I must cast about some happy slight:

425Work brain, that ever did'st thy Master right.

426Cor. Keeper, let the key be turn'd.

428Nic. I, I, pray master Keeper give's a cast of your office.

429Cap. How now? more visitants?--what, Corporal Oath?

430Pye. Skir. Corporal.

431Cor. In prison, honest Captain? this must not be.

432Nic. How do you, Captain Kinsman?

433Cap. Good Coxcomb, what makes that pure,--starcht

434fool here?

435Nic. You see, Kinsman, I am somewhat bold to call

436in, and see how you do; I heard you were safe enough,

437and I was very glad on't, that it was no worse.

438Cap. This is a double torture now,---this fool by th'

439book doth vex me more then my imprisonment. What

440meant you, Corporal, to hook him hither?

441Cor. Who, he? he shall relieve thee, and supply thee,

442I'le make him do't.

443Cap. Fie, what vain breath you spend:

444He supply? I'le sooner expect mercy from a Usurer when

445my Bond's forfeited, sooner kindnesse from a Lawyer

446when my money's spent: nay, sooner charity from the

447Devil, then good from a Puritan. I'le look for relief from

448him, when Lucifer is restor'd to his bloud, and in Hea-

449ven again.

450Nic. I warrant my Kinsman's talking of me, for my

451left ear burns most tyrannically.

452Pye. Captain Idle? what's he there? he looks like a

453Monkey upward, and a Crane downward.

454Cap. Pshaw; a foolish cousin of mine: I must thank

455God for him.

456Pye. Why the better subject to work a scape upon;

457thou shalt e'en change cloathes with him, and leave him

458here, and so---

459Cap Push, I publisht him e'en now to my Corporal,

460he will be damn'd ere he do me so much good; why I

461know a more proper, a more handsome device then that,

462if the slave would be sociable,---now goodman Fleer-

463face?

464Nic. Oh, my Cousin begins to speak to me now, I

465shall be acquainted with him again, I hope.

466Skir. Look! what ridiculous Raptures take hold of his

467wrinckles.

468Pye. Then what say you to this device, a happy one,

469Captain?

470Cap. Speak low, George; Prison Rats have wider

471eares then those in Malt-lofts.

472Nic. Cousin, if it lay in my power, as they say--to--do-

473Cap. 'Twould do me an exceeding pleasure indeed,

474that; nere talk forder on't, the fool will be hang'd ere

475he do't.

476Cor. Pax, I'le thump'im to't.

477Pye. Why do but try the Fopster, and break it to

478him bluntly.

479Cap. And so my disgrace will dwell in his Jawes, & the

480Slave slaver out our purpose to his Master, for would I

481were but as sure on't, as I am sure he will deny to do't.

482Nic. I would be heartily glad, Cousin, if any of my

483friendships, as they say, might--stand, ah--

484Pye. Why, you see he offers his friendship foolishly to

485you already.

486Cap. I, that's the hell on't, I would he would offer it

487wisely.

488Nic. Verily, and indeed-la, Cousin--

489Cap.I have took note of thy fleers a good while, if

490thou art minded to do me good? as thou gap'st upon me

491comfortably, and giv'st me charitable faces; which indeed

492is but a fashion in you all that are Puritans, wilt soon at

493night steal me thy Master's Chain?

494Nic.Oh, I shall sowne!

495Pye. Corporal, he starts already!

496Cap. I know it to be worth three hundred Crowns,

497and with the half of that, I can buy my life at a Bro-

498kers, at second hand, which now lies in pawn to the

499Law, if this thou refuse to do, being

easie and nothing

500dangerous, in that thou art held in good opinion of thy

501Master; why 'tis a palpable Argument thou hold'st my

502life at no price, and these thy broken and unjoynted

503offers, are but only created in thy lip, now born, and

504now buried, foolish breath only: what, woult do't? shall I

505look for happinesse in thy answer?

506Nich. Steal my Master's Chain quoth he? no, it shall

507nere be said, that Nicholas Saint Tantlings committed

508Bird-lime!

509Cap. Nay, I told you as much, did I not? though he

510be a Puritan, yet he will be a true man.

511Nic. Why Cousin, you know 'tis written, Thou shalt

512not steal.

513Cap. Why, and fool, thou shalt love thy Neighbour,

514and help him in extremities.

515Nic. Mass I think it be indeed; in what Chapter's

516that, Cousin?

517Capt. Why in the first of Charity, the second verse.

518Nic. The first of Charity, quath a, that's a good

519jest, there no such Chapter in my book!

520Cap. No, I know twas torn out of thy Book, and that

521makes so little in thy heart.

522Pye. Come, let me tell you, y'are too unkind a Kins-

523man ifaith; the Captain loving you so dearly, I, like the

524Pomwater of his eye, & you to be so uncomfortable, fie, fie.

525Nic. Pray do not wish me to be hang'd, any thing else

526that I can do; had it been to rob, I would ha don't, but I

527must not Steal, that's the word, the literal, Thou shalt

528not steal; and would you wish me to steal then?

529Pye. No faith, that were too much, to speak truth;

530why wilt thou Nim it from him?

531Nic. That I will.

532Pye. Why enough, Bully; he will be content with that,

533or he shall ha none; let me alone with him now, Cap-

534tain, I ha dealt with your Kinsman in a corner; a good,

535--kind-natur'd fellow, me thinks: go to, you shall not

536have all your own asking, you shall bate somewhat on't,

537he is not contented absolutely, as you would say, to steal

538the Chain from him, but to do you a pleasure, he will nim

539it from him.

540Nic. I, that I will, Cousin.

541Cap. Well, seeing he will do no more, as far as I see,

542I must be contented with that.

543Cor. Here's no notable gullery?

544Pye. Nay, I'le come nearer to you, Gentleman, because

545we'll have only but a help and a mirth on't, the Knight

546shall not lose his Chain neither, but be only laid out of

547the way some one or two dayes.

548Nic. I, that would be good indeed, Kinsman.

549Pye. For I have a farder reach, to profit us better, by

550the missing on't only, then if we had it out-right, as my

551discourse shall make it known to you;--when thou hast

552the Chain, do but convey it out at a back-door into the

553Garden, and there hang it close in the Rosemary banck,

554but for a small season; and by that harmlesse device, I

555know how to wind Captain Idle out of prison, the Knight

556thy Master shall get his pardon, and release him, and he

557satisfie thy Master with his own Chain, and wondrous

558thanks on both hands.

559Nic. That were rare indeed la, pray let me know how.

560Pye. Nay, 'tis very necessary thou should'st know,

561because thou must be employ'd as an Actor?

562Nic. An Actor? O no, that's a Player? and our Par-

563son rails against Players mightily I can tell you, because

564they brought him drunk upo'th'Stage once,--as he will be

565horribly drunk.

566Cor. Mass I cannot blame him then, poor Church-spout.

567Pye. Why as an Intermedler then?

568Nic. I, that, that.

569Pye. Give me audience then; when the old Knight thy

570Master has rag'd his fill for the loss of the Chain, tell him

571thou hast a Kinsman in prison, of such exquisite Art, that

572the Devil himself is French Lackey to him, and runs

573bare-headed by his horse-----belly (when he has

574one:) whom he will cause, with most Irish dexteri-

575ty to fetch his Chain, though 'twere hid under a mine

576of Sea-coal, and ne're make Spade or Pick-axe his

577instruments; tell him but this, with farder instructions

578thou shalt receive from me, and thou show'st thy self a

579Kinsman indeed.

580Cor. A dainty Bully.

581Skir. An honest--Book-keeper.

582Cap. And my three times thrice honey-Cousin.

583Nic. Nay, grace of God I'le rob him on't suddenly,

584and hang it in the Rosemary banck, but I bear that mind,

585Cousin, I would not Steal any thing, me thinks, for mine

586own Father.

587Skir. He bears a good mind in that, Captain.

588Py. Why well said, he begins to be an honest fellow, faith.

589Cor. In troth he does.

590Nic. You see, Cousin, I am willing to do you any kind-

592Captain. Why I thank thee, fare thee well, I shall re-

593quite it..

594Cor. 'Twill be good for thee, Captain, that thou hast

595such an egregious Asse to thy Cousin.

596Cap. I, is not that a fine fool, Corporal?

597But George, thou talk'st of Art and Conjuring,

598How shall that be?

599Pyb. Puh, be't not in your care,

600Leave that to me and my directions;

601Well, Captain, doubt not thy delivery now,

602E'en with the vantage, man, to gain by Prison,

603As my thoughts prompt me: hold on brain and plot,

604I aim at many cunning far events,

605All which I doubt not to hit at length,

606I'le to the Widow with a quaint assault,

607Captain be merry.

608Cap. Who I? Kerry merry Buffe-Jerkin.

609Pye. Oh, I am happy in more slights, and one will

610knit strong in another, --Corporal Oath.

611Cor. Hoh Bully!

612Pye. And thou, old Peter Skirmish, I have a necessary

613task for you both.

614Skir. Lay't upon George Pye-bord.

615Corp. What e're it be, we'll manage it.

616Pye. I would have you two maintain a quarrell before

617the Lady Widdowes door, and draw your Swords ith'edge

618of the Evening: clash a little, clash, clash.

619Corp. Fuh.

620Let us alone to make our Blades ring noon,

621Though it be after supper.

622Pye. I know you can;

623And out of that false fire, I doubt not but to raise strange

624belief--and, Captain, to countenance my device the bet-

625ter, and grace my words to the Widow, I have a good

626plain Sattin Sute, that I had of a young Reveller tother

627night, for words pass not regarded now a dayes, unless they

628come from a good suit of cloathes, which the Fates and my

629wits have bestowed upon me. Well, Captain Idle, if I

630did not highly love thee, I would ne're be seen within

631twelve score of a prison, for I protest at this instant, I

632walk in great danger of small debts; I owe money to se-

633verall Hostesses, and you know such Jills will quickly be

634upon a mans Jack.

635Capt. True, George?

636Pye. Fare thee well, Captain. Come Corporall and

637Ancient, thou shalt hear more newes next time we greet

638thee.

639Corp. More newes? I, by yon Bear at Bridge-Foot in

641Capt. Enough: my friends farewell,

642This prison shewes as if Ghosts did part in Hell.

644Moll. Not marry? forswear marriage? why all wo-

645men know 'tis as honourable a thing as to lie with a man;

646and I to spight my Sisters vow the more, have entertain'd

647a Suiter already, a fine Gallant Knight of the last Fea-

648ther, he sayes he will Coach me too, and well appoint me,

649allow me money to Dice withall, and many such pleasing

650protestations he sticks upon my lips: indeed his short-winded

651Father ith' Countrey is wondrous wealthy, a most

652abominable Farmer, and therefore he may dote in time:

653troth I'le venter upon him; women are not without

654wayes enough to help themselves: if he prove wise and

655good as his word, why I shall love him, and use him

656kindly; and if he prove an Asse, why in a quarter of an

657houres warning I can transform him into an Oxe;----

658there comes in my relief again.

660Frail. O, Mistresse Moll, Mistresse Moll.

661Moll. How now? what's the newes?

662Frail. The Knight your Suiter, Sir John Penny-Dub.

663Moll. Sir John Penny-Dub? where? where?

664Frail. He's walking in the Gallery.

665Moll. Has my Mother seen him yet?

666Frail. O no, she's---spitting in the Kitchin.

667Moll. Direct him hither softly, good Frailty,

668I'le meet him half way.

669Frail. That's just like running a Tilt; but I hope he'll

670break nothing this time.

672Moll. 'Tis happinesse my Mother saw him not:

673O welcome, good Sir John.

674Penny-Dub. I thank you faith,---Nay you must stand

675me till I kisse you: 'tis the fashion every where ifaith,

676and I came from Court enow.

677Moll. Nay the Fates forfend that I should anger the

678fashion?

679Penny. Then not forgetting the sweet of new cere-

680monies, I first fall back, then recovering my self; make

681my honour to your lip thus: and then accost it.

682Moll. Trust me, very pretty, and moving, y'are wor-

683thy on't, sir.

684O my Mother, my Mother, now she's here,

687Sir Godf. Nay, Sister, let Reason rule you, doe not

688play the foole, stand not in your own light, you have

689wealthy offers, large tendrings, doe not withstand your

690good fortune: who comes a wooing to you I pray? no

691small fool, a rich Knight oth' City, Sir Oliver Muck-hill,

692no small fool I can tell you: and furthermore as I heard late

693by your Maid-servants (as your Maid-servants will say

694to me any thing, I thank 'em) both your Daughters are

695not without Suiters, I, and worthy ones too; one a brisk

696Courtier, Sir Andrew Tip-staffe, suiter afar off to your

697eldest Daughter, and the third a huge wealthy Farmers

698Son, a fine young Country Knight, they call him Sir

699John Penny-Dub, a good name marry, he may have it

700coyn'd when he lacks money: what blessings are these,

701Sister?

702Wid. Tempt me not, Satan.

703Sir God. Satan? doe I look like Satan? I hope the

704Devil's not so old as I, I trow.

705Wid. You wound my sences, Brother, when you name

706A suiter to me,---oh I cannot abide it,

707I take in poyson when I hear one nam'd.

709How now, Simon? where's my son Edmond?

710Sim. Verily, Madam, he is at vain Exercise, dripping

711in the Tennis-Court.

712Wid. At Tennis-Court? oh, now his Father's gone,

713I shall have no rule with him; oh wicked Edmond, I

714might well compare this with the Prophecy in the Chro-

715nicle, though far inferiour, as Harry of Monmouth won

716all, and Harry of Windsor lost all; so Edmond of Bris-

717towthat was the Father, got all, and Edmond of London

718that's his son now, will spend all.

719Sir Godf. Peace, sister, we'll have him reform'd, there's

720hope on him yet, though it be but a little.

722Frail. Forsooth Madam; there are two or three Ar-

723chers at door would very gladly speak with your Ladi-

724ship.

725Wid. Archers?

726Sir God. Your Husbands Fletcher I warrant.

727Wid. Oh,

728Let them come near, they bring home things of his,

729Troth I should ha forgot 'em, how now?

730Villain, which be those Archers?

733Frail. Why, do you not see 'em before you? are not

734these Archers, what do you call'em Shooters: Shooters

735and Archers are all one I hope.

736Wid. Out ignorant slave.

737Muck. Nay, pray be patient Lady,

738We come in way of honorable love.

739Tipst. Penny. We do.

740Muck. To you.

741Tipst. Penny. And to your Daughters.

742Wid.O why will you offer me this, Gentlemen? in-

743deed I will not look upon you; when the tears are scarce

744out of mine eyes, not yet washt off from my cheeks, and

745my deer husbands body scarce so cold as the Coffin, what

746reason have you to offer it? I am not like some of your

747Widows that will bury one in the evening, and be sure

748to another ere morning; pray away, pray take your an-

749swers good Knights, and you be sweet Knights, I have

750vow'd never to marry;---and so have my daughters too!

751Penny. I, two of you have, but the third's a good wench!

752Muck. Lady, a shrewd answer marry; the best is, 'tis

753but the first, and he's a blunt wooer, that will leave for

754one sharp answer.

755Tip. Where be your Daughters Lady, I hope they'll

756give us better encouragements?

757Wid. Indeed they'll answer you so, take't a my word

758they'll give you the very same answer Verbatim truly la.

759Penny. Mum: Moll's a good wench still, I know what

760she'll do?

761Muck. Well, Lady, for this time we'll take our leaves,

762hoping for better comfort.

763Wid. O never, never: and I live these thousand years;

764and you be good Knights, do not hope; 'twill be all Vain,

765Vain,----look you put off all your suits, and you come to

766me again.

767Frail. Put of all their suits, quatha? I that's the best

768wooing of a Widdow indeed, when a man's Nonsuted,

769that is, when he's a bed with her.

771Muck. Sir Godfrey? here's twenty Angels more, work

773Sir Godf. Fear not Sir Oliver Muckhill, I'le stick

774close for you, leave all w

ith me.

776Pye. By your leave Lady Widow.

777Wid. What another suiter now?

778Pye. A suiter, no, I protest Lady? if you'd give me

779your self, I'de not be troubled with you.

780Wid. Say you so Sir, then you're the better welcome sir.

781Pye. Nay, Heaven blesse me from a Widow, unlesse I

782were sure to bury her speedily!

783Wid. Good bluntnesse: well, your businesse, si?

784Pye. Very needfull; if you were in private once.

785Wid. Needfull? Brother, pray leave us; and you sir.

786Frail. I should laugh now, if this blunt fellow should

787put'em all beside the stirrop, and vault into the saddle

790Wid. Now Sir?---here's none but wee----Daughters

791forbear.

792Pye. O no, pray let'em stay, for what I have to speak

793importeth equally to them as you?

794Wid. Then you may stay.

795Pye. I pray bestow on me a serious ear,

796For what I speak is full of weight and fear.

797Wid. Fear?

798Pye. I, if't passe unregarded, and uneffected,

799Else peace and joy:---I pray Attention.

800Widow, I have been a meer stranger for these parts that

801you live in, nor did I ever know the Husband of you,

802and Father of them, but I truly know by certain spiritual

803Intelligence, that he is in Purgatory.

804Wid. Purgatory? tuh; that word deserves to be spit

805upon; I wonder that a man of sober tongue, as you seem

806to be, should have the folly to believe there's such a place.

807Pye. Well Lady, in cold bloud I speak it, I assure you

808that there is a Purgatory, in which place I know your

809husband to recide, and wherein he is like to remain, till

810the dissolution of the world, till the last general Bon-fire:

811when all the earth shall melt into nothing, and the Seas

812scald their finny labourers: so long is his abidance, un-

813lesse you alter the property of your purpose, together with

814each of your Daughters theirs, that is, the purpose of sin-

815gle life in your self and your eldest Daughter, and the

816speedy determination of marriage in your youngest.

817Moll. How knows he that, what, has some Devil told

818him?

819Wid. Strange he should know our thoughts:------

820Why but Daughter, have you purpos'd speedy Marriage?

821Pye. You see she tells you I, she sayes nothing.

822Nay, give me credit as you please, I am a stranger to you,

823and yet you see I know your determinations, which

824must come to me metaphisically, and by a super-natural

825intelligence.

826Wid. This puts amazement on me.

827Frank. Know our secrets?

828Mol. I'de thought to steal a marriage, would his tongue

829Had dropt out when he blab'd it.

830Wid. But sir, my husband was too honest a dealing

831man, to be now in any Purgatories-----

832Pye. O do not load your conscience with untruths,

833'Tis but meer folly now to gild'em ore:

834That has past but for Copper; Praises here,

835Cannot unbind him there: confesse but truth,

836I know he got his wealth with a hard gripe:

837Oh hardly, hardly.

838Wid. This is most strange of all, how knows he that?

839Pye. He would eat fools and ignorant heirs clean up;

840And had his drink from many a poor mans brow,

841Even as their labour brew'd it.

842He would scrape riches to him most unjustly;

843The very dirt between his nails was ill got

844And not his own,---oh

845I groan to speak on't, the thought makes me shudder!---

846shudder!

847Wid. It quakes me too, now I think on't---sir, I am

848much griev'd, that you a stranger, should so deeply wrong

849my dead husband!

850Pye-board. Oh?

851Wid. A man that would keep Church so duly; rise

852early before his servants, and e'en for Religious hast, go

853ungarter'd, unbutton'd, nay sir Reverence untrust, to

854Morning Prayer?

855Pye. Oh uff.

856Wid. Dine quickly upon high-dayes, and when I had

857great guesse, would e'en shame me, and rise from the Ta-

858ble, to get a good seat at an after-noon Sermon.

859Pye. There's the devil, there's the devil, true, he thought

860it Sanctity enough, if he had kill'd a man, so t'ad bin

861done in a Pue, or undone his Neighbour, so t'ad bin

862near enough to th' Preacher, Oh!---a Sermon's a fine

863short Cloak of an hour long, and will hide the upper part

864of a dissembler,--Church, I, he seem'd all Church, and

865his conscience was as hard as the Pulpit.

866Wid. I can no more endure this.

867Pye. Nor I, Widow,

868Endure to flatter.

869Wid. Is this all your business with me?

870Pye. No, Lady, 'tis but the induction to't,

871You may believe my strains, I strike all true.

872And if your conscience would leap up to your tongue,

873your self would affirm it, and that you shall perceive

874I know of things to come, as well as I do of what is pre-

875sent; a Brother of your husband's shall shortly have a

876loss.

877Wid. A loss? marry Heaven forfend, Sir Godfrey, my

878Brother!

879Pye. Nay, keep in your wonders, 'till I have told you

880the fortunes of you all; which are more fearfull, if not

881happily prevented,--for your part and you: Daughters, if

882there be not once this day some bloud-shed before your

883door, whereof the humane creature dyes, of you two the

884elder shall run mad.

885Mother & Frank. Oh!

886Mol. That's not I yet.

887Pye. And with most impudent prostitution, show your

888naked Bodies to the view of all beholders.

889Wid. Our naked Bodies? fie for shame.

890Pye. Attend me, and your younger Daughter be

891strucken dumb.

892Mol. Dumb? out alas; 'tis the worst pain of all for

893a Woman, I'de rather be mad, or run naked, or any

894thing: dumb?

895Pye. Give ear: ere the evening fall upon Hill, Bog,

896and Meadow, this my speech shall have past probation,

897and then shall I be believed accordingly.

898Widow. If this be true, we are all sham'd, all un-

899done.

900Mol. Dumb? I'le speak as much as ever I can possi-

901ble before evening.

902Pye. But if it so come to pass (as for your fair sakes I

903wish it may) that this presage of your strange fortunes

904be prevented by that accident of death and bloud-shed-

905ding, which I before told you of; take heed upon your

906lives, that two of you which have vow'd never to marry,

907seek out Husbands with all present speed, and you the

908third, that have such a desire to outstrip Chastity, look

909you meddle not with a Husband.

910Moll. A double Torment.

911Pye. The breach of this keeps your Father in Purga-

912tory, and the punishments that shall follow you in this

913world, would with horrour kill the ear should hear 'em

914related.

915Wid. Marry? why I vow'd never to marry.

916Frank. And so did I.

917Moll. And I vow'd never to be such an Ass, but to

918marry: what a cross Fortune's this?

919Pye. Ladies, though I be a Fortune-teller, I cannot bet-

920ter Fortunes, you have'em from me as they are revealed

921to me: I would they were to your tempers, and fellows

922with your blouds, that's all the bitterness I would you.

923Widow. Oh! 'tis a just vengeance, for my Husband's

924hard purchases.

925Pye. I wish you to bethink your selves, and leave'em.

926Wid. I'le to Sir Godfrey my Brother, and acquaint

927him with these fearfull presages.

928Frank. For, Mother, they portend losses to him.

929Wid. Oh I, they do, they do;

930If any happy issue crown thy words,

931I will reward thy cunning.

932Pye. 'Tis enough, Lady,

933I wish no higher. Exit.

934Moll. Dumb? and not Marry? worse,

936Pye. So, all this comes well about yet, I play the Fortune-

937teller, as well as if I had had a Witch to my Grannam:

938for by good happinesse, being in my Hostesses Gar-

939den, which neighbours the Orchard of the Widow, I

940laid the hole of mine ear to a hole in the wall, and heard

941'em make these Vowes, and speak those words, upon which

942I wrought these advantages; and to encourage my for-

943gerie the more, I may now perceive in 'em a natural sim-

944plicitie which will easily swallow an abuse, if any cover-

945ing be over it: and to confirm my former presage to the

946Widow, I have advis'd old Peter Skirmish the Souldier,

947to hurt Corporal Oath upon the Leg, and in that hurry,

948I'le rush amongst'em, and in stead of giving the Corpo-

949ral some Cordial to comfort him, I'le pour into his mouth

950a potion of a sleepy nature, and make him seem as dead;

951for the which the old Souldier being apprehended, and

952ready to be borne to execution, I'le step in, and take upon

953me the cure of the dead man, upon pain of dying the

954condemned's death: the Corporal will wake at his mi-

955nute, when the sleepy force hath wrought it self, and so

956shall I get my self into a most admired opinion, and under

957the pretext of that cunning, beguile as I see occasion:

958and if that foolish Nicholas Saint Tantlings keep true

959time with the Chain, my plot will be sound, the Captain

960delivered, and my wits applauded among Schollars and

963Nic. Oh, I have found an excellent advantage to take

964away the Chain, my Master put it off e'en now, to say on

965a new Doublet, and I sneakt it away by little and little,

966most Puritanically! we shall have good sport anon

967when has mist it, about my Cousin the Conjurer; the world

968shall see I'me an honest man of my word, for now I'me

969going to hang it between Heaven and Earth among the

973Frail. Sirrah Simon Saint Mary-Overies, my Mistris

974sends away all her suiters, and puts fleas in their eares.

975Sim. Frailty, she does like an honest, chast, and vir-

976tuous woman; for Widows ought not to wallow in the

977puddle of Iniquity.

978Frail. Yet, Simon, many Widows will do't, what so

979ere comes on't.

980Sim. True, Frailty, their filthy flesh desires a Con-

981junction Copulative; what strangers are within,

982Frailty?

983Frail. There's none, Simon; but master Pilfer the Tay-

984lor: he's above with Sir Godfrey, praising of a Doublet:

985and I must trudge anon to fetch Master Suds the Barber.

986Sim. Master Sud's a good man, he washes the sins of

987the Beard clean.

988Skir. How now, creatures? what's a Clock?

990Frail. Why, doe you take us to be Jack at th'Clock-

991house?

992Skir. I say again to you what's a Clock?

993Sim. Truly la, we go by the Clock of our Conscience,

994all worldly Clocks we know go false, and are set by

995drunken Sextons.

996Skir. Then what's a Clock in your Conscience?---oh,

997I must break off, here comes the Corporall---hum, hum:

998---what's a Clock?

1000Corp. A Clock? why past seventeen.

1001Frail. Past seventeen? nay, h'as met with his match

1002now, Corporall Oath will fit him.

1003Skir. Thou dost not bawke or baffle me, dost thou?

1004I am a Souldier---past seventeen.

1005Corp. I, thou art not angry with the figures, art thou?

1006I will prove it unto thee, 12. and 1. is thirteen I hope,

10072. fourteen, 3. fifteen, 4. sixteen, and 5. seventeen, then

1008past seventeen, I will take the Dialls part in a just cause.

1009Skir. I say 'tis but past five then.

1010Corp. I'le swear 'tis past seventeen then: dost thou

1011not know numbers? canst thou not cast?

1012Skir. Cast? dost thou speak of my casting ith' street?

1014Corp. I, and in the Market place.

1016Frail. I, I knew by their shuffling Clubs would be

1017Trump; masse here's the Knave, and he can do any good

1018upon 'em: Clubs, Clubs, Clubs.

1020Cap. O Villain, thou hast open'd a vain in my Leg.

1021Pye. How now? for shame, for shame, put up, put up.

1022Cap. By yon blew Welkin, 'twas out of my part,

1023George, to be hurt on the Leg.

1025Pye. Oh peace now---I have a Cordiall here to com-

1026fort thee.

1027Offi. Down with 'em, down with 'em, lay hands upon

1028the Villain.

1029Skir. Lay hands on me?

1030Pye. I'le not be seen among 'em now.

1031Cap. I'me hurt, and had more need have Surgeons,

1032Lay hands upon me then, rough Officers.

1033Offi. Go, carry him to be drest then:

1034This mutinous Soldier shall along with me to prison.

1035Skir. To prison? where's George?

1037Pye. So,

1038All lights as I would wish, the amaz'd Widow,

1039Will plant me strongly now in her belief,

1040And wonder at the virtue of my words:

1041For the event turns these presages from 'em,

1042Of being mad and dumb, and begets joy

1043Mingled with admiration: these empty creatures,

1044Souldier and Corporall, were but ordain'd

1045As instruments for me to work upon.

1048Wid. O wondrous happinesse, beyond our thoughts!

1049O luckky fair event! I think our fortunes

1050Were blest e'ne in our Cradles: we are quitted

1051Of all those shamefull violent presages

1052By this rash bleeding chance: go, Frailty, run, and know

1053Whether he be yet living, or yet dead,

1054That here before my door receiv'd his hurt.

1055Frail. Madam, he was carried to the superiour, but if

1056he had no money when he came there, I warrant he's

1058Franck. Sure that man is a rare fortune-teller, never

1059lookt upon our hands, nor upon any mark about us, a

1060wondrous fellow surely.

1061Moll. I am glad I have the use of my tongue yet,

1062though of nothing else, I shall find the way to marry too,

1063I hope shortly.

1064Wid. O where's my Brother sir Godfrey, I would he

1065were here, that I might relate to him how prophetically

1066the cunning Gentleman spoke in all things.

1068Sir God. O my Chain, my Chain, I have lost my

1069Chain, where be these Villains, Varlets?

1070Wid. Oh, h'as lost his Chain.

1071Sir God. My Chain, my Chain.

1072Wid. Brother, be patient, hear me speak, you know

1073I told you that a Cunning-man told me, that you should

1074have a losse, and he has prophecied so true.

1075Sir God. Out, he's a Villain to prophecy of the losse

1076of my Chain, 'twas worth above three hundred Crowns,

1077besides 'twas my Fathers, my Fathers Fathers, my Grand-

1078fathers huge Grandfathers: I had as lieve ha lost my

1079Neck, as the Chain that hung about it; O my Chain, my

1080Chain.

1081Wid. Oh, Brother, who can be against a misfortune,

1082'tis happy 'twas no more.

1083Sir God. No more! O goodly godly sister, would you

1084had me lost more? my best Gown too, with the Cloth

1085of Gold-Lace? my holyday Gascoins, and my Jerkin

1086set with Pearl? no more!

1087Wid. Oh, Brother, you can read.---

1088Sir God. But I cannot read where my Chain is: what

1089strangers have been here? you let in strangers, Thieves

1090and Catch-poles: how comes it gone? there was none a-

1091bove with me but my Taylor, and my Taylor will not---

1092steale I hope?

1093Moll. No, he's afraid of a Chain.

1095Wid. How now, sirrha? the newes?

1096Frail. O, Mistresse, he may well be call'd a Corpo-

1097rall now, for his Corps are as dead as a cold Capons?

1098Wid. More happinesse.

1099Sir God. Sirrha, what's this to my Chain? where's

1100my Chain, knave?

1101Frail. Your Chain, sir?

1102Sir God. My Chain is lost, Villain.

1103Frail. I would he were hang'd in Chains that has it

1104then for me: Alass, sir, I saw none of your Chain since

1105you were hung with it your self.

1106Sir God. Out varlet? it had full three thousand Lincks,

1107I have oft told it over at my prayers:

1108Over and over, full three thousand Lincks.

1109Frail. Had it so, sir, sure it cannot be lost then; I'le

1110put you in that comfort.

1111Sir God. Why? why?

1112Frail. Why if your Chain had so many Lincks, it

1113cannot chuse but come to light.

1115Sir God. Delusion. Now, long Nicholas, where is my

1116Chain.

1117Nich. Why about your neck, is't not, sir?

1118Sir God. About my neck, Varlet? my Chain is lost,

1119'Tis stoln away, I'me robb'd.

1120Wid. Nay, Brother, show your self a man.

1121Nic. If it be lost or stole, if he would be patient, Mi-

1122stresse, I could bring him to a Cunning Kinsman of mine

1123that would fetch it again with a Sesarara.

1124Sir God. Canst thou? I will be patient, say, where

1125dwells he?

1126Nic. Marry he dwells now, sir, where he would not

1127dwell and he could choose, in the Marshalsea, sir; but

1128he's an exlent fellow if he were out: h'as travell'd all the

1129world o're, he, and been in the seven and twenty Provin-

1130ces: why he would make it be fetcht, sir, if it were rid a

1131thousand mile out of town.

1132Sir God. An admirable fellow, what lies he for;

1133Nic. Why he did but rob a Steward of ten groats

1134tother night, as any man would ha done, and there he

1135lies for't.

1137Besides a bountifull reward, I'le about it,

1138But see the Clerks, the Justice will do much;

1139I will about it straight, good sister pardon me,

1140All will be well I hope, and turn to good,

1144Put. His Hostesse where he lies will trust him no

1145longer, she hath feed me to arrest him; if you will ac-

1146company me, because I know not of what nature the

1147Schollar is, whether desperate or swift, you shall share

1148with me, Serjeant Raven-shaw, I have the good Angel to

1149arrest him.

1150Raven. Troth I'le take part with thee then, Serjeant,

1151not for the sake of the money so much, as for the hate I

1152bear to a Schollar: why, Serjeant, 'tis naturall in us

1153you know to hate Schollars: naturall besides, they will

1154publish our imperfections, knaveries, and Conveyances

1155upon Scaffolds and Stages.

1156Put. I, and spightfully too; troth I have wondred

1157how the slaves could see into our breasts so much, when

1158our Doublets are button'd with Pewter.

1159Raven. I, and so close without yielding: oh, their

1160parlous fellowes, they will search more with their wits,

1161than a Constable with all his Officers.

1162Put. Whist, whist, whist, Yeoman Dogson, Yeoman

1163Dogson.

1164Dog. Ha? what sayes Serjeant?

1165Put. Is he in the Pothecaries shop still,

1166Dog. I, I.

1167Put. Have an eye, have an eye.

1168Raven. The best is, Serjeant, if he be a true Schollar

1169he weares no weapon I think.

1170Put. No, no, he weares no weapon.

1171Raven. Masse, I am right glad of that: 'thas put me

1172in better heart; nay if I clutch him once, let me alone

1173to drag him if he be stiff-necked; I have been one of

1174the six my self, that has dragg'd as tall men of their hands,

1175when their weapons have bin gone, as ever bastinado'd

1176a Serjeant---I have done I can tell you.

1177Dog. Serjeant Puttock, Serjeant Puttock.

1178Put. Hoh.

1179Dog. He's comming out single.

1180Put. Peace, peace, be not too greedy, let him play a

1181little, let him play a little, we'll jerk him up of a sudden,

1182I ha fisht in my time.

1183Raven I, and caught many a fool, Serjeant.

1185Pye. I parted now from Nicholas: the Chain's couch't,

1186And the old Knight has spent his rage upon't,

1187The Widow holds me in great admiration

1188For cunning Art: 'mongst joyes I'me e'ne lost,

1189For my device can no way now be crost,

1190And now I must to prison to the Captain, and there---

1191Put. I arrest you, sir.

1192Pye. Oh---I spoke truer then I was aware, I must to

1193prison indeed.

1194Put. They say you're a Schollar, nay sir---Yeoman

1195Dogson, have care to his armes---you'll raile again Ser-

1196jeants, and stage 'em: you tickle their vices.

1197Pye. Nay, use me like a Gentleman, I'me little lesse.

1198Put. You a Gentleman? that's a good jest ifaith;

1199can a Schollar be a Gentleman,---when a Gentleman

1200will not be a Schollar;---look upon your wealthy Citi-

1201zens Sons, whether they be Schollars or no, that are Gen-

1202tlemen by their Fathers Trades: a Schollar a Gentleman!

1203Pye. Nay, let Fortune drive all her stings into me,

1204she cannot hurt that in me, a Gentleman, Accidens in-

1205separabile to my blood.

1206Raven. A rablement, nay you shall have a bloody

1207rablement upon you I warrant you.

1208Put. Go, Yeoman Dogson, before, and enter the A-

1209ction ith' Counter.

1211Whether you please to have me.

1212Put. Oh, he's tame, let him loose Serjeant.

1213Pye. Pray at whose Suit is this?

1214Put. Why, at your Hostesses Suit where you lie, Mi-

1215stresse Cunniburrow, for bed and board, the summe four

1216pound five shillings and five pence.

1217Pye. I know the summe too true, yet I presum'd

1218Upon a farther day; well, 'tis my starres:

1219And I must bear it now, though never harder.

1220I swear now, my device is crost indeed.

1221Captain must lie by't: this is Deceits seed.

1222Put. Come, come away.

1223Pye. Pray give me so much time as to knit my garter,

1224and I'le away with you.

1225Put. Well, we must be paid for this waiting upon you,

1227Pye. I am now wretched and miserable, I shall ne're

1228recover of this disease: hot Iron gnaw their fists: they

1229have struck a Fever into my shoulder, which I shall ne're

1230shake out again I fear me, till with a true Habeas Corpus

1231the Sexton remove me, oh if I take prison once, I shall be

1232prest to death with Actions, but not to happy as speedily;

1233perhaps I may be forty year a pressing till I be a thin old

1234man, that looking through the grates, men may look

1235through me; all my means is confounded, what shall I

1236do? has my wit served me so long, and now give me the

1237slip (like a train'd servant) when I have most need of

1238'em: no device to keep my poor carcase from these Put-

1239tocks?---yes, happinesse, have I a paper about me now?

1240yes too, I'le try it, it may hit, Extremity is Touch-stone

1241unto wit, I, I.

1242Put. 'Sfoot how many yards are in thy Garters, that

1243thou art so lo long a tying on them? come away sir.

1244Pye. Troth Serjeant I protest; you could never ha

1245took me at a worse time, for now at this instant, I have

1246no lawfull picture about me.

1247Put. 'Slid how shall we come by our fees then.

1248Rav. We must have fees, sirra.

1249Pye. I could have wisht ifaith, that you had took me

1250halfe an hour hence for your own sake, for I protest if

1251you had not crost me, I was going in great joy to receive

1252five pound of a Gentleman, for the Device of a Mask

1253here, drawn in this paper but now, come, I must be con-

1254tented, 'tis but so much lost, and answerable to the rest of

1255my fortunes.

1256Put. Why how far hence dwells that Gentleman?

1257Rav. I, well said Serjeant, 'tis good to cast about for

1258mony.

1259Put. Speak, if it be not far---

1260Pye. We are but a little past it, the next streeet behind us.

1261Put. 'Slid we have waited upon you grievously already,

1262if you'll say you'll be liberal when you ha't, give us double

1263fees, and spend upon's, why we'll show you that kind-

1264ness, and go along with you to the Gentleman.

1265Rav I, well said still Serjeant, urge that.

1266Pye. Troth if it will suffice, it shall all be among you,

1267for my part I'le not pocket a penny, my Hostess shall

1268have her four pound five shillings, and bate me the five

1269pence, and the other fifteen shillings I'le spend upon you.

1270Ravinish. Why now thou art a good Schollar.

1271Put. An excellent Schollar ifaith; has proceeded very

1272well alate; come, we'll along with you.

1275Ser. Who knocks, whose at door? we had need of a

1276Porter.

1277Pye. A few friends here.---pray is the Gentleman

1278your Master within?

1279Ser. Yes, is your business to him?

1280Pye. I, he knows it, when he sees me:

1281I pray you, have you forgot me.

1282Ser. I by my troth, sir, pray come near, I'le in and

1283tell him of you, please you to walk here in the Gallery till

1284he comes.

1285Pye. We will attend his worship,---worship I think,

1286for so much the posts at his door should signifie, and the

1287fair coming in, and the wicket, else I neither knew him

1288nor his worship, but 'tis happiness he is within doors,

1289what so'ere he be, if he be not too much a formal Citizen,

1290he may do me good: Serjeant and Yeoman, how do you

1291like this house, is't not most wholsomely plotted?

1292Rav. Troth prisoner, an exceeding fine house.

1293Pye. Yet I wonder how he should forget me, for he

1294ne're knew me: No matter, what is forgot in you, will be

1295remembred in your Master.

1296A pritty comfortable room this methinks:

1297You have no such roomes in prison now?

1298Put. Oh dog-holes to't.

1299Pye. Dog-holes indeed---I can tell you I have great

1300hope to have my Chamber here shortly, nay and dyet

1301too, for he's the most free-hearted'st Gentleman where he

1302takes: you would little think it? and what a fine Gallery

1303were here for me to walk and study, and make verses.

1304Put. O it stands pleasantly for a Schollar.

1306Pye. Look what maps, and pictures, and devices, and

1307things, neatly, delicately? Masse here he comes, he should

1308be a Gentleman, I like his Beard well;---All happinesse

1309to your worship.

1310Gent. You're kindly welcome, sir.

1311Put. A simple salutation.

1312Rav. Masse it seems the Gentleman makes great ac-

1313count of him.

1314Gent. I have the thing here for you, sir.

1315Pye. I beseech you, conceal me sir, I'm undone else,---

1316I have the Mask here for you sir, Look you sir,---I be-

1317seech your worship, first pardon my rudenesse, for my

1318extreams makes me boulder then I would be; I am a poor

1319Gentleman and a Schollar, and now most unfortunately

1320falne into the hands of unmercifull Officers, arrested for

1321debt, which though small, I am not able to compasse, by

1322reason I'm destitute of lands, mony, and friends, so that

1323if I fall into the hungry swallow of the prison, I am like

1324utterly to perish, and with fees and extortions be pincht

1325clean to the bone: Now, if ever pitty had interest in the

1326bloud of a Gentleman, I beseech you vouchsafe but to

1327favour that means of my escape, which I have already

1328thought upon.

1329Gent. Go forward.

1330Put. I warrant he likes it rarely.

1331Pye. In the plunge of my extremities, being giddy,

1332and doubtfull what to do; at last it was put in my labour-

1333ing thoughts, to make a happy use of this paper, and to

1334blear their unlettered eyes, I told them there was a Device

1335for a Mask drawn in't, and that (but for their intercep-

1336tion,) I was going to a Gentleman to receive my reward

1337for't: they greedy at this word, and hoping to make pur-

1338chase of me, offered their attendance, to go along with

1339me, my hap was to make bold with your door, sir, which

1340my thoughts shew'd me the most fairest and comfortablest

1341entrance, and I hope I have happened right upon under-

1342standing, and pitty: may it please your good worship

1343then, but to uphold my Device, which is to let one of your

1344men put me out at a back door, and I shall be bound to

1345your worship for ever.

1346Gent. By my troth, an excellent Device.

1347Put. An excellent Device he sayes; he likes it won-

1348derfully.

1349Gent. A my faith, I never heard a better.

1350Raven. Hark, he swears he never heard a better,

1351Serjeant.

1352Put. O there's no talk on't, he's an excellent Schollar,

1353and especially for a Mask.

1354Gent. Give me your Paper, your Device; I was never

1355better pleas'd in all my life: good wit, brave wit, finely

1356wrought, come in sir, and receive your mony, sir.

1357Pye. I'le follow your good Worship,---

1358You heard how he like't it now?

1359Put. Puh, we know he could not choose but like it:

1360go thy wayes, thou art a fine witty fellow ifaith, thou

1361shalt discourse it to us at the Tavern anon, wilt thou?

1362Pye. I, I, that I will,---look Serjeants, here are Maps,

1363and pretty toyes, be doing in the mean time, I shall quick-

1364ly have told out the money, you know.

1365Put. Go, go, little villain, fetch thy chinck, I begin

1366to love thee, I'le be drunk to night in thy company.

1367Pye. This Gentleman I may well call a part

1368Of my salvation, in these earthly evils,

1369For he has sav'd me from three hungry Devils.

1371Put. Sirrah Serjeant, these Maps are pretty painted

1372things, but I could nere fancie them yet, me thinks they're

1373too busie, and full of Circles and Conjurations; they say

1374all the World's in one of them, but I could nere find the

1375Counter in the Poultry.

1376Rav. I think so: how could you find it? for you know

1377it stands behind the houses.

1378Dog. Mass that's true, then we must look oth'back-

1379side for't: sfoot here's nothing, all's bare.

1380Rav. I warrant thee that stands for the Counter, for

1381you know there's a company of bare fellows there.

1382Put. Faith like enough, Serjeant, I never markt so

1383much before. Sirrah Serjeant, and Yeoman, I should

1384love these Maps out a cry now, if we could see men peep

1385out of door in 'em, oh we might have'em in a morning to

1386our Break-fast so finely, and nere knock our heels to the

1387ground a whole day for 'em.

1388Rav. I marry sir, I'de buy one my self.

1389But this talk is by the way, where shall's sup to night:

1390Five pound receiv'd, let's talk of that.

1391I have a trick worth all, you two shall bear him toth'Ta-

1392vern, whilst I go close with his Hostess, and work out of

1393her, I know she would be glad of the summe, to finger

1394money; because shee knows 'tis but a desperate debt, and

1395full of hazard: what will you say if I bring it to pass, that

1396the Hostess shall be contented with one half for all, and

1397we to share tother fifty shillings, Bullies.

1398Put. Why I would call thee King of Serjeants, and

1399thou should'st be Chronicled in the Counter-Book for

1400ever.

1401Ra. Well, put it to me, we'll make a Night on't ifaith.

1402Dog. Sfoot, I think he receives more money, he stayes

1403so long.

1404Put. He tarries long indeed, may be, I can tell you,

1405upon the good liking on't the Gentleman may prove

1406more bountifull.

1407Rav. That would be rare, we'll search him.

1408Put. Nay be sure of it, we'll search him, and make

1409him light enough.

1411Ra. Oh here comes the Gentleman, by your leave, Sir.

1412Gen. God you god den sirs,--would you speak with me?

1413Put. No, not with your worship, sir; only we are bold

1414to stay for a friend of ours, that went in with your wor-

1415ship.

1416Gen. Who? not the Schollar?

1417Put. Yes, e'en he, an it please your worship.

1418Gen. Did he make you stay for him? he did you wrong

1419then: why, I can assure you he's gon above an hour ago.

1420Rav. How, Sir?

1421Gen. I paid him his money, and my man told me he

1422went out at back-door.

1423Put. Back-door?

1424Gen. Why, what's the matter?

1425Put. He was our prisoner, sir, we did arrest him.

1426Gen. What he was not? you the Sheriff's Officers---

1427you were too blame then,

1428Why did you not make known to me as much;

1429I could have kept him for you, I protest,

1430He receiv'd all of me in Britain Gold,

1431Of the last coyning.

1432Ra Vengeance dog him with't.

1433Put. Sfoot has he gull'd us so?

1434Dog. Where shall we sup now, Serjeants?

1435Put. Sup Simon, now, eat Porridge for a month.

1436Well, we cannot impute it to any lack of good will in

1437your Worship,--you did but as another would have

1438done, 'twas our hard fortunes to miss the purchase, but

1439if e'er we clutch him again, the Counter shall charm him.

1440Ra. The Hole shall rot him.

1442Gent. So,

1443Vex out your Lungs without doors, I am proud,

1444It was my hap to help him, it fell fit,

1445He went not empty neither for his wit:

1446Alas poor wretch, I could not blame his brain,

1447To labour his delivery, to be free,

1448From their unpittying fangs,--I'me glad it stood,

1452Cap. How now, who's that? what are you?

1453Pye. The same that I should be, Captain.

1454Cap. George Pye-board, honest George? why cam'st

1455thou in half-fac'd, muffled so?

1456Pye. Oh Captain, I thought we should nere ha laught

1457agen, never spent frolick hour agen.

1458Cap. Why? why?

1459Pye. I coming to prepare thee, and with news

1460As happy as thy quick delivery,

1461Was trac'd out by the sent, arrested, Captain.

1462Cap. Arrested, George?

1463Pye. Arrested; guess, guess, how many Dogs do you

1464think I'de upon me?

1465Cap. Dogs? I say, I know not.

1466Pye. Almost as many as George Stone the Bear:

1467Three at once, three at once.

1468Cap. How did'st thou shake'em off then?

1470Here I stand safe, and scap't by miracle:

1471Some other hour shall tell thee, when we'll steep

1472Our eyes in laughter: Captain, my device

1473Leans to thy happiness, for ere the day

1474Be spent toth' Girdle, thou shalt be free:

1475The Corporal's in's first sleep, the Chain is mist,

1476Thy Kinsman has exprest thee, and the old Knight

1477With Palsey-hams now labours thy release.

1478What rests, is all in thee, to Conjure, Captain?

1479Cap. Conjure? sfoot, George, you know, the Devil a

1480conjuring I can conjure.

1481Pye. The Devil of conjuring? nay by my fay, I'de not

1482have thee do so much, Captain, as the Devil a conjuring:

1483look here, I ha brought thee a Circle ready charactered

1484and all.

1485Ca. Sfoot, George, art in thy right wits, dost know what

1486thou sayst? why dost talk to a Captain a conjuring? didst

1487thou ever hear of a Captain conjure in thy life? dost call't

1488a Circle? 'tis too wide a thing, me thinks; had it been

1489a lesser Circle, then I knew what to have done.

1490Pye. Why every fool knowes that Captain: nay then

1491I'le not cog with you, Captain, if you'll stay and hang

1492the next Sessions you may.

1493Cap. No, by my faith, George, come, come, let's to

1494conjuring.

1495Pye. But if you look to be released, as my wits have

1496took pain to work it, and all means wrought to farther it,

1497besides to put Crowns in your purse, to make you a man

1498of better hopes, and whereas before you were a Captain

1499or poor Souldier, to make you now a Commander of rich

1500fooles, (which is truly the onely best purchase peace can

1501allow you) safer then High-wayes, Heath, or Cony-groves,

1502and yet a far better booty; for your greatest thieves are

1503never hang'd, never hang'd; for why? they're wise, and

1504cheat within doores; and we geld fooles of more money

1505in one night, then your false-tail'd Gelding will purchase

1506in a twelve-moneths running, which confirmes the old

1507Bedlams saying, he's wisest, that keeps himself warmest,

1508that is, he that robs by a good fire.

1509Capt. Well opened ifaith, George, thou hast pull'd

1510that saying out of the husk.

1511Pye. Captain Idle, 'Tis no time now to delude or de-

1512lay, the old Knight will be here suddenly, I'le perfect

1513you, direct you, tell you the trick on't: 'tis nothing.

1514Capt. 'Sfoot, George, I know not what to say to't,

1515conjure? I shall be hang'd ere I conjure.

1516Pye. Nay, tell not me of that, Captain, you'll ne're

1517conjure after you're hang'd, I warrant you, look you, sir,

1518a parlous matter, sure, first to spread your circle upon the

1519ground, then with a little conjuring ceremony, as I'le

1520have an Hackney-mans wand silver'd o're a purpose for

1521you, then arriving in the circle, with a huge word, and a

1522great trample, as for instance: have you never seen a stal-

1523king, stamping Player, that will raise a tempest with his

1524tongue, and thunder with his heeles?

1525Cap. O yes, yes, yes; often, often.

1526Pye. Why be like such a one? for any thing will blear

1527the old Knights eyes: for you must note, that he'll ne're

1528dare to venture into the room, onely perhaps peep fear-

1529fully through the Key-hole, to see how the Play goes for-

1530ward.

1531Capt. Well, I may go about it when I will, but mark

1532the end on't, I shall but shame my self ifaith, George,

1533speak big words, and stamp and stare, and he look in at

1534Key-hole, why the very thought of that would make me

1535laugh out-right, and spoile all: nay I'le tell thee, George,

1536when I apprehend a thing once, I am of such a laxative

1537laughter, that if the Devil himself stood by, I should

1538laugh in his face.

1539Pye. Puh, that's but the babe of a man, and may easi-

1540ly be husht, as to think upon some disaster, some sad mis-

1541fortune, as the death of thy Father ith' Countrey.

1542Cap. 'Sfoot, that would be the more to drive me into

1543such an extasie, that I should ne.re lin laughing.

1544Pye. Why then think upon going to hanging else.

1545Cap. Masse that's well remembred, now I'le doe well,

1546I warrant thee, ne're fear me now: but how shall I doe,

1547George, for boysterous words, and horrible names?

1548Pye. Puh, any fustian invocations, Captain, will serve

1549as well as the best, so you rant them out well, or you may

1550go to a Pothecaries shop, and take all the words from the

1551Boxes.

1552Cap. Troth, and you say true, George, there's strange

1553words enow to raise a hundred Quack-salvers, though

1554they be ne're so poor when they begin? but here lies the

1555fear on't, how in this false conjuration, a true Devil

1556should pop up indeed.

1557Pye. A true Devil, Captain? why there was ne're such

1558a one, nay faith he that has this place, is as false a Knave

1559as our last Church-warden.

1560Cap. Then h'as false enough a conscience ifaith, George.

1562Cry prisoners. Good Gentlemen over the way, send

1563your relief:

1564Good Gentlemen over the way,---Good sir Godfrey?

1565Pye. He's come, he's come.

1566Nich. Master, that's my Kinsman yonder in the Buff-

1567Jerkin---Kinsman, that's my Master yonder ith' Taffa-

1568ty Hat---pray salute him intirely?

1570Sir God. Now my friend.

1571Pye. May I partake your name, sir?

1572Edm. My name is Master Edmond.

1573Pye. Master Edmond,---are you not a Welsh-man, sir?

1574Edm. A Welsh-man? why?

1575Pye. Because Master is your Christen name, and Ed-

1576mond your sir-name.

1577Edm. O no: I have more names at home, Master

1578Edmond Plus is my full name at length.

1580Cap. I understand that you are my Kinsmans good

1581Master, and in regard of that, the best of my skill is at

1582your service: but had you fortun'd a meer stranger, and

1583made no meanes to me by acquaintance, I should have

1584utterly denyed to have been the man; both by reason of

1585the Act of Parliament against Conjurers and Witches,

1586as also, because I would not have my Art vulgar, trite,

1587and common.

1588Sir God. I much commend your care there, good

1589Captain Conjurer, and that I will be sure to have it pri-

1590vate enough, you shall do't in my Sisters house,---mine

1591own house I may call it, for both our charges therein are

1592proportion'd.

1593Capt. Very good, sir,---what may I call your losse, sir?

1594Sir God. O you may call't a great losse, a grievous

1595losse, sir, as goodly a Chain of Gold, though I say it, that

1596wore it: how sayest thou, Nicholas?

1597Nich. O 'twas as delicious a Chain a Gold, Kinsman

1598you know,---

1599Sir God. You know? did you know't, Captain?

1600Cap. Trust a fool with secrets?---Sir he may say I

1601know: his meaning is, because my Art is such, that by it

1602I may gather a knowledge of all things.---

1603Sir God. I very true.

1604Capt. A pax of all fooles---the excuse stuck upon my

1605tongue like Ship-pitch uoon a Mariners Gown, not to

1606come off in haste---ber-lady, Knight, to lose such a fair

1607Chain a Gold, were a foule losse: Well, I can put you in

1608this good comfort on't, if it be between heaven and earth,

1609Knight, I'le ha't for you?

1610Sir God. A wonderfull Conjurer,---O I, 'tis between

1611heaven and earth I warrant you, it cannot go out of the

1612Realm,---I know 'tis somewhere about the earth.

1613Cap. I, nigher the earth then thou wot'st on.

1614Sir God. For first my Chain was rich, and no rich

1615thing shall enter into heaven, you know.

1616Nich. And as for the Devil, Master, he has no need

1617on't, for you know he has a great Chain of his own.

1618Sir Godf. Thou say'st true, Nicholas, but he has put

1619off that now, that lyes by him.

1620Cap. Faith Knight, in few words, I presume so much

1621upon the power of my Art, that I could warrant your

1622Chain agen.

1623Sir Godf. O dainty Captain!

1624Cap. Marry it will cost me much sweat, I were better

1625go to sixteen Hot-houses.

1626Sir Godf. I, good man, I warrant thee.

1627Cap. Beside great vexation of Kidney and Liver.

1628Nic. O, 'twill tickle you hereabouts, Cousin, because

1629you have not been us'd to't.

1630Sir Godf. No? have you not been us'd to't, Captain?

1631Cap Plague of all fools still;--indeed Knight I have

1632not us'd it a good while, and therefore 'twill strain me so

1633much the more, you know.

1634Sir Godf. Oh it will, it will.

1635Cap. What plunges he puts me to? were not this

1636Knight a fool, I had been twice spoil'd now; that Cap-

1637tain's worse then accurst that has an Asse to a Kinsman,

1638sfoot I fear he will drivel't out before I come to't.--Now

1639sir,--to come to the point indeed, --you see I stick here

1640in the jaw of the Marshalsea, and cannot do't.

1641Sir Godf. Tut tut, I know thy meaning, thou wouldst

1642say thou'rt a prisoner, I tell thee th'art none.

1643Cap. How, none? why is not this the Marshalsea?

1644Sir Godf. Woult hear me speak? I heard of thy rare

1645Conjuring:

1646My Chain was lost, I sweat for thy release,

1647As thou shalt do the like at home for me:

1648Keeper.

1650Keep. Sir.

1651Sir Godf. Speak, is not this man free?

1652Keep. Yes, at his pleasure, Sir, the Fees discharg'd.

1653Sir Godf. Go, go, I'le discharge them, I.

1655Cap. Now, trust me, y'are a dear Knight; kindnesse

1656unexpected! oh there's nothing to a free Gentleman.--I

1657will Conjure for you, sir, 'till Froth come through my

1658Buffe-Jerkin.

1659Sir Godf. Nay, then thou shalt not passe with so lit-

1660tle a bounty, for at the first sight of my Chain agen,---

1661Fourty five Angels shall appear unto thee.

1662Cap. 'Twill be a glorious show, ifaith Knight, a very

1663fine show; but are all these of your own house? are you

1664sure of that, Sir?

1665Sir Godf. I, I, no, no; what's he yonder talking with

1666my wild Nephew, pray heaven he give him good counsel.

1667Cap. Who, he? he's a rare friend of mine, an admi-

1668rable fellow, Knight, the finest Fortune-teller.

1669Sir Godf. Oh! 'tis he indeed, that came to my Lady

1670sister, and foretold the losse of my Chain; I am not an-

1671gry with him now, for I see 'twas my Fortune to lose it:

1672By your leave, Mr. Fortune-teller, I had a glimps of you

1673at home, at my Sisters the Widows, there you prophe-

1674sied of the loss of a Chain: -simply though I stand here,