TRUEWIT

Why, here's the man that can melt away his time, and never feels it! what, between his Mistress abroad, and his Engle at home, high Fare, soft Lodging, fine Clothes, and his Fiddle; he thinks the hours ha'no wings, or the day no Post-horse. Well, Sir Gallant, were you struck with the Plague this minute, or condemned to any capital punish meant to morrow, you would begin then to think, and vam lue every Article of your time, esteem it at the true rate, and give all for't. Why, nothing: or that, which when it's done, is as I dle. Harken after the next Horserace, or Hunting-match; lay Wagers, praise Puppy, or Peppercorn, Whitefoot, Franklin; Horses of the time. swear upon White-maines party; sp and aloud, that my Lords may hear you; visit my Ladies at night, and be able to give them the Character of every Bowler, or Better of the Green. These be the things, wherein your fashionable men exercise themselves, and I for company. And a wise Lady will keep a guard always upon the place, that she may do things securely. I once followed a rude fellow into a Chamber, where the poor Madame, for haste, and troubled, snatched at her Perruke, to cover her baldness: and put it on, the wrong way. And the unconscionable Knave held her in Come plement and hour, with that reversed face, when I still looked when she should talk from the tother side. No faith, I let her alone, as wee'll let this argument, if you please, and pass to another, When saw you Dauphi ne, Eugeny? So I have herd. But is the disease so ridiculous in him, as it is made? they say, he has been upon diverse Trea ties with the Fishwives, and Orenge-women; and Articles propounded between them: marry, the Chimney-sweepers will not be drawn in. Me thinks, a Smith should be ominous. A Trumpet should fright him terribly, or the Hau boys? A good Wag. How do's he for the Bells'? Struck into stone almost, I am here, with Tales of thine Uncle! There was never such a Prodigy herd of. How is that? Slid, I would be the Author of more, to vex him, that purpose deserves it: it gives thee law of plaguing him. I'll tell thee what I would do. I would make a false Alma nake; get it printed: and then have him drawn out on a Counterfeit ronation day to the Tower -Wharf, and kill him with the noise of the Ordinance. Disinherit thee! he cannot, man. Art not thou next of blood, and his Sisters Son? How! that's a more portent. Can he endure no noise, and will venture on a Wife? But, I trust to God, he has found none. Is't possible! who is his agent in the business? Why, you oppress me with wonder! A woman, and a Barber, and love no noise! Is the Barber to be seen? or the Wench? I p ay thee, Dauphine, let's go thither. You shall have no business shall make you neglect this, Sir, wee'll make her talk, believe it; or if she will not, we can give out, at least so much as shall interrupt the Trea ty: we will break it. Thou art bound in conscience, when he suspects thee without cause to torment him. Yes, and be poor, and beg; do, innocent: when some Groom of his has God him and Heir, or this Barber, if he himself cannot. Innocent! I pray thee, Ned, where lies she? let him be innocent, still. You do not mean to confound me! Do's he, that would marry her, know so much? And are extremely solicitous for you, Sir. Mine own Knave, and your Compeer, Sir. You shall taste the one half of my Dagger, if you do (Groom) and you, the other, if you stir, Sir: be patient, I charge you, in the Kings Name, and hear me without insur rection. They say, you are to marry? to marry! do you mark, Sir? Marry, your friends do wonder, Sir, the Thames be king so near, wherein you may drown so handsomely; or London -bridge, at a low fallen, with a fine leap, to hurry you down the stream; or, such a delicate Steeple, in the Town, as Bow, to vault from; or, a braver height, as Paul's, or, if you affected to do it nearer home, and a shorter way, and excellent Garret Windore, into the street; or, a Beam, in the said Garret, with this Halter; which they have sent, and desire, He shows him a halter that you would sooner commit your graven head to this knot, then to the Wedlock nooze; or, take a little Sublimate, and go out of the World, Like a Rat; or a Fly (as one said) with a Straw in your Arse: any way, rather, then to follow this Goblin Matrimony. Alas, Sir, do you ever think to find a chaste Wife, in these times? now? when there are so many Masques, Plays, Puritane Preachings, Mad-folkes, and other strange fights to be seen daily, private and pub lique? if you had lived in King Etheldred's time, Sir, or Ed ward the Confessors, you might, perhaps have found in some cold Country-hamlet, then, a dull frostrie Wench, would have been contented with one man: now, they will as soon be pleased with one leg, or one eye. I'll tell you, Sir, the monstrous hazards you shall run with a Wife. Nothing, Sir, that I know, but your itch of Mar riage. I would kill you, Sir, I would kill you, if you had. Alas, Sir, I am but a Messenger: I but tell you, what you must hear. It seems, your friends are careful after your souls health, Sir, and would have you know the dan her (but you may do your pleasure, for all them, I persuade not, Sir) If, after you are married, your Wife do run away with a Vaulter, or the Frenchman that walks upon Ropes, or him that dances the Ijg, or a Fencer for his skill at his Weapon, why it is not their fault; they have discharged their consciences: when you know what may happen. Nay, suffer valiantly, Sir, for I must tell you, all the perils that you are obnoxious too. If she be fair, and young, vegetous, no Sweetmeats ever drew more Flies; all the Yellow Dou blets, and great Roses in the Town will be there. If foul, and crooked, shee'll be with them, and buy those Doublets and Roses, Sir. If rich, and that you marry her Dowry, not her; shee'll reign in your House, as imperious as a Widow. If Noble, all her Kindred will be your Tyrants. If fruitful, as proud as May, and humorous as April; she must have her Doctors, her Midwives, her Nurse's, her longings every hour: though it be for the dearest morsel of man. If lear ned, there was never such a Parrat; all your Patrimony will be too little for the Guests, that must be invited, to hear her speak Latin and Greek: and you must lie with her in those Languages too, if you will please her. If precise, you must feast all the silenced Brothers, once in three days; salute the Sisters; entertain the whole Family, or Wood of them; and hear long-winded Exercises, Singings, and Catechisings, which you are not given to, and yet must give for: to please the zealous Matron your Wife, who, for the holy cause, will cousin you, over and above. You begin to sweat, Sir? but this is not half, faith: you may do your pleasure notwithstan ding, The Mute is stealing away. as I said before, I come not to persuade you. Upon my faith, Master Servingman, if you do stir, I will beat you. Then, if you love your Wife, or rather, dote on her, Sir: Oh, how shee'll torture you! and take pleasure in your tor ments! you shall lie with her but when she lists; she will not hurt her beauty, her complexion: or it must be for that Jewel, or that Pearl, when she do's; every half hours pleasure must be bought anew: and with the same pain, and charge, you wooed her at first. Then, you must keep what Servants she please; what company she will; that friend must not visit you without her licence; and him she loves most she will seem to hate eagerliest, to decline your jealousy; or, feign to be jealous of you first; and for that cause go live with her she-friend, or Cousin at the College, that can instruct her in all the Mysteries, of writing Letters, corrupting Servants, taming Spies; where she must have that rich Gown for such a great day; a new one for the next; a richer for the third; be served in sil ver; have the Chamber filled with a succession of Grooms, Footmen, Ushers, and other Messengers; beside Embroy derers, Jewellers, Tyre-women, Sempsters, Fether-men, Per fumers; while she feels not how the Land drops away; nor the Acres melt; nor foresees the change, when the Mercer has your Woods for her Velvets; never weighs what her Pride costs, Sir: so she may kiss a Page, or a smooth chin, that has the despair of a Beard; be a States-woman, know all the News, what was done at Salisbury, what at the Both, what at Court, what in Progress; or, so she may cen sure Poets, and Authors, and stile, and compare'hem, Dam niel with Spenser, Johnson with the tother youth, and so forth; or, be thought cunning in Controversies, or the very knots of Divinity; and have, often in her mouth, the state of the question: and then skip to the Mathematics, and de monstration and answer, in Religion to one; in state, to anon there, in baud'ry to a third. All this is very true, Sir. And then her going in dis guise to that Conjurer, and this cunning woman: where the first question is, how soon you shall die? next, if her pre sent Servant love her? next that, if she shall have a new Sir vant? and how many? which of her Family would make the best Baud, Male, or Female? what precedence she shall have by her next match? and sets down the answers, and be leaves them above the Scriptures. Nay, perhaps shee'll study the Art. Yes Sir: and then comes reeking home of vapor and sweat, with going afoot, and lies in, a month, of a new face, all Oil, and Birdlime; and rises in Asses Milk, & is cleansed with a new fucus: God b'w'you, Sir. One thing more (which I had almost forgotten.) This too, with whom you are to marry, may have made a conuayance of her Virginity a forehand, as your wise Widow's do of their states, before they marry, in trust to some friend, Sir: who can tell? or if she have not done it yet, she may do, upon the Wedding day, or the night before, and antedate you Cuckold. The Like has been herd of, in nature. It's no devised impossible thing, Sir. God b'w'you: I'll be bold to leave this Rope with you, Sir, for a remembrance. Farewell Mute. Where the found of it might have pierced your sen ses, with gladness, had you been in eare-reach of it. Dau phine, fallen down and worship me: I have forbid the Banes, Lad. I have been with thy virtuous Uncle, and have broke the match. Yes faith; and thou shouldst hope otherwsse, I should repent me: this Horn God me entrance, kiss it. I had no other way to get in, but by feigning to be a Post; but when I God in once, I proved none, but rather the contrary, turned him into a Post, or a Stone, or what is stiffer, with thundering into him the incommodities of a Wife, and the Misery's of Marriage. If ever Gorgon were seen in the shape of a woman, he hath seen her in my description. I have put him off of that sent, for ever. Why do you not applaud, and adore me, Sirs? why stand you mute? Are you stupid? you are not worthy of the benefit. Why so? Wherein? for gods sake! Gent, come to your selves again. My Master's, do not put on this strange face to pay my courtesic: off with this Visor. Have good turns done you and thank them this way? Beyond your expectation? by this light, I knew, it would be thus. No, I was ignorantly officious, impertinent: this was the absurd, weak partly. Fortune? mere Providence. Fortune had not a finger in't. I saw it must necessarily in nature fallen out so: my genius is never false to me in these things. Show me, how it could be otherwise. Alas, I let him go on with inconsiderate, and rash, and what he pleased. Event! By this light, thou shalt never persuade me, but I foresaw it, aswell as the Stars themselves. I'll be acquainted with her, first, by your favour. I am sorry, I have not known you sooner, Lady, to celebrate this rare virtue of your silence. Jack Daw, God save you, when saw you La-fool? That's Miracle! I thought you two had been in separable. Gods so! tls true! what a false memory have I to wards that man! I am one: I met him e'ne now, upon that he calls his delicate fine black Horse, rid into a foam, with posting from place to place, and person to person, to give hem the cue — Yes: there was never poor Captain took more pains at a Muster to show men, then he, at this meal, to show friends. Nay, Jack Daw will not be out, at the best friends he has, to the Talon of his wit: where's his Mistress, to hear and applaud him? is she gone! Gone afore! that were a manifest injury; a disgrace and a half: to refuse him at such a Festival time, as this, be king a Bravery, and a Wit too. She do's refuse him, Sir, palpably: how ever you mince it. And I were as he, I would swear to speak never a word to her, to day, for't. Nor to any body else, Sir. Or a Snail, or a Hog-louse: I would roll my self up for this day, intruth, they should not unwind me. Yes Sir, wee'll dog you, wee'll follow you a far off. A mere talking Mole! no Mushroom was ever so fresh. A fellow so utterly nothing, as he knows not what he would be. Content. WElcome Cutberd; draw near with your fair charge: and, in her ear, softly entreat her to unmasque (—) So. Is the door shut? (—) enough. Now, Cutberd, with the same discipline I use to my Family, I will question on you. As I conceive, Cutberd, this Gentlewoman is she, you have provided, and brought, in hope she will fit me in the place and person of a Wise? Answer me not, but with your leg, unless it be otherwise: (—) very well done, Cutberd. I conceive, beside, Cutberd, you have been pre acquainted with her birth, education, and qualities, or else you would not prefer her to my acceptance, in the weigh ty consequence of Marriage. (—) this I conceive, Cutberd. Answer me not but with your leg, unless it be otherwise. (—) Very well done Cutberd. Give aside now a little, He goes about her, and views her. and leave me to examine her condition, and aptitude to my affe ction. She is exceeding fair, and of a special good fa vour; a sweet composition, or harmony of limbs: her temper of beauty has the true height of my blood. The Knave hath exceedingly well fitted me without: I will now try her within. Come near, fair Gentlewoman: let not my behaviour seem rude, though unto you, being rare, it may happily appear strange. (—) Nay, Lady, She curtsies. you may speak, though Cutberd, and my man, might not: for, of all sounds, only, the sweet voice of a fair Lady has the just length of mine ear. I beseech you, say Lady, out of the first fire of meeting eyes, (they say) love is stricken; do you feel any such motion, suddenly shot into you, from any partly you see in me? would, Lady? (—) Alas, Lady, these answers by silent curtsies, from you, are too courtless, and simple. Curtsy. I have ever had my breeding in Court: and she to at shall be my Wife, must be accomplished with Courtly, and audaci ous ornaments. Can you speak, Lady? What a Barbarian it is to stay then! Slight, get one of the silenced Ministers, a zealous Brother would torment him purely. It would be made a Jest to Posterity, Sirs, this days mirth, if you will. To translate all La-Fooles company, and his Feast hither, to day, to celebrate this Bride-ale. I'll undertake the directing of all the Lady-guests thither, and then the meat must follow. I'll warrant you for the Colledge-honours: one of their faces has not the priming colour laid on yet, nor the oh there her Smock sleeked. Best go see, and assure our selves. I'll led you, were you never there yet? Where have you lived then? not know Tom Otter! And excellent Animal, equal with your Daw, or La-fool, if not transcendent; and do's Latin it as much as your Barber: he is his Wives Subject, he calls her Princess, and at such times as these, follows her up and down the House Like a Page, with his Hat off, partly for heat, partly for reverence. At this instant, he is marshalling of his Bull, Bear, and Horse. Why Sir? he has been a great man at the Bear-garden in his time: and from that subtle sport, has taken the witty denomination of his chief carousing Cups. One he calls his Bull, another his Bear, another his Horse. And then he has his lesser Glasses, that he calls his Dear, and his Ape; and several degrees of them too: and never is well, nor thinks any entertainment perfect, till these be brought out, and set of the Cupboard. Nay, he has a thousand things as good, that will speak him all day. He will rail on his Wife, with certain common places, behind her back; and to her face— (For Gods sake, let's go stave her off him.) (Shee'll worry him, if we help not in time.) How do's my noble Captain? Is the Bull, Bear, and Horse, in rerum naturam still? Oh, but the sport will be anon, when we get him lose. No Anabaptist ever railed with the Like licence: but mark her Language in the meantime, I beseech you. In good time, Lady. Was not Sir John Daw here, to ask for him, and the company? Oh, Sir! she is the only authentical Courtier, that is not naturally bred one, in the City. No, I assure you, the Court governs it so, Lady, in your behalf. They are rather your Idolaters. I wish you all joy, Mistress Epicoene, with your graven and honourable match. God save you Sir, and give you all contentment in your fair choice, here. Before I was the Bird of night to you, the Owl but now I am the Messenger of Peace, a Dove, and bring you the glad wishes of many friends, to the celebration of this good hour. Your Marriage hour Sir. I commend your resolu cion, that (notwithstanding all the dangers I laid afore you, in the voice of a Night-Crow) would yet go on, and be your self. It shows you are a man constant to your, own ends, and upright to your purposes, that would not be put off with lefthanded cries. Why, did you ever hope, Sir committing the see crecy of it to a Barber, that less then the whole Town should know it? you might as well have told it to the Con duit, or the Bakehouse, or the Infant'ry that follow the Court, and with more security. Could your Gravity for get so old and noted a remnant, as, lippis & tonsoribus notum, Well Sir, forgive it your self now, the fault, and be come municable with your friends. Here will be three or four fashionable Ladies, from the College to visit you present lie, and their train of Minions, and Followers. Nay faith, in this, Sir, she speaks but reason: and me thinks is more continent then you. Would you go to bed so presently, Sir, afore noon? a man of your head, and hair, should owe more to that reverend Ceremony, and not mount the Marriagebed, Like a Town-bull, or a Mon tayne-Goate; but stay the endue season; and ascend it then with Religion, and fear. Those delights are to be ste ̄ ep'd in the humour, and silence of the night; and give the day to other open pleasures, and jollities of Feast, of Mufique, of Revels, of Discourse: wee'll have all, Sir, that may make your Hymen high, and happy. Nay, if you endure the first half hour, Sir, so tedi ously, and with this irksomnesse; what comfort, or hope, can this fair Geutlewoman make to her self hereafter, in the consideration of so many years as are to come— I have done, Sir. (Yes faith, a cursed Wretch indeed, Sir.) (All Egypt's ten Plagues) It's very well, Sir. If you laid on a curse or two, more, I'll assure you hee'll bear them. As, that he may get the Pox with seeking to cure it, Sir? Or, that while he is curling another men hair, his own may drop off? Or, for burning some Male-baudes Lock, he may have his brain Beatrice out with the Curling-Iron? (I, and if he would swallow all his Balls for Pills, let not them purge him) (A perpetual Frost underneath it, Sir) (But in Hell, Sir) Very dreadful that! (And may he lose the inuen cion, Sir, of carving Lanterns in Paper) And drink lotium to it, and much good do him. Eat Earwax, Sir. I'll help you. Or draw'his own Teeth, and add them to the Lutestring. (Yes, make meal of the Millstones.) And he now forget the cure of them in himself, Sir: or, if he do remember it, let him have scraped all his Lin nen into Lint for't, and have not a rag left him, to set up with. That falls out often, Madame, that he that thinks himself the Master-wit, is the Master-fool. I assure your Ladyship, you cannot laugh at her. Believe it Madame, and Mistress Mavis, she will sustain her partly. In the the mean time, Madame, would but your Ladyship help to vex him a little: you know his disease, talk to him about the Wedding Ceremonies, or call for your Gloves, or— By that light, you deserve to grafted, and have your Horns reach from one side of the Island, to the other. Do not mistake me, Sir, I but speak this, to give the Ladies some heart again, not for any malice to you. As God help me, if you utter such another word, I'll take Mistress Bride in and begin to you, in a very sad cup, do you see? Go too, know your friends, and such, as love you. BY your leave, Ladies. Do you want any Music? I have brought you variety of noises. Play, Sirs, all of you. Peace, Boys. Peace, Rascals. You see who's your friend now, Sir? Take courage, put on a Martyrs resolution. Mock down all their attemptings, with patience. It's but a day, and I would suffer heroically. Should and Ass exceed me in fortitude? No. You betray your infirmity with your hang king dull ears, and make them insult: bear up bravely, and constantly. Look you here, Sir, what honour is done you unexpected, La-fool passes over sewing the eat. by your Nephew; a Wedding Dinner come, and a Knight Sewer before it, for the more reputation: and fine Mistress Otter, your Neighbour, in the Rump, or Tail of it. I warrant you, Sir, she will not transform you. Look upon her with a good courage. Pray you entertain her, and conduct your Guests in, No? Mistress Bride, will you entreat in the Ladies? your Bridegroom is so shamefaced, here— And that they had sent for the Heralds. Captain Otter, what news? Sure, he cannot but go to a place of rest, after all this Purgatory. I, she takes any occasion to speak: that's the height on't. And has almost brought him to the faith, in the article. Here he comes. Where is he now? what's become of him, Dauphine? Oh, they are instructing her in the Colledge-Gram mar. If she have grace with them, she knows all their see crets instantly. Believe it, I told you right. Women ought to re pair the losses, time and years have made in their features, with dressings. And and intelligent Woman, if she know by her self the least defect, will be most curious, to hide it: and it becomes her. If she be short, let her fit much, lest when she stands, she be thought to fit. If she have and ill foot, let her wear her Gown the longer, and her Shoo the thinner. If a fat Hand, and scald Nails, let her carve the less, and act in Gloves. If a sour breath, let her never discourse fa sting: and always talk at her distance. If she have black and rugged Teeth, let her offer the less at laughter, especial lie if she laugh wide, and open. I, and others, that will stalk i'their gait Like and E strich, and take huge strides. I cannot endure such a sighed. I love measure in the feet, and number in the voice: they are Gentlenesses, thaa ofttimes draw no less then the face. Yes, but you must leave to live in your Chamber then a month together upon Amadis de Gaul, or Done Quixote, as you are wont; and come abroad where the mat ter is frequent, to Court, to Tiltings, public Shows, and Feasts, to Plays, and Church sometime: thither they come to show their new Tires too, to see, and to be seen. In these places a m n shall find whom to love, whom to play with, whom to touch once, whom to hold cuer. The variety ar rests his judgement. A Wench to please a man comes not down dropping from the seeling, as he lies on his back droning a Tobacco Pipe. He must go where she is. Out Heretic. That diffidence makes thee worthy, it should be so. A man should not doubt to over come any Woman. Think he can vanquish them, and he shall, for though they deny, their desire is to be tempted. Penelope her self can not hold out long. Ostend, you saw, was taken at last. You must persever, and hold to your purpose. They would solemnizing licite us, but that they are afraid. Howsoever, they wish in their hearts we should solicit them. Praise hem, flatter. them, you shall never want Eloquence, or trust: even the chastest delight to feel themselves that way rubbed. With Praises you must mix Kisses too. If they take them, they'll take more. Though they strive, they would be over come. It is to them and acceptable violence, and has oft times the place of the greatest courtesy. She that might have been forced, and you let her go free without touching though she then seem to thank you, will ever hate you of ter: and glad in the face, is assuredly sad at the heart. It's true. No more then all Birds, or all Fish. If you appear learned to and ignorant Wench, or jocund to a sad, or witty to a foolish, why she presently begins to mistrust herself. You must approach them in their own height, their own line: for the contrary makes many that fear to come mit themselves to noble and worthy fellows, run into the embraces of a Rascal. If she love Wit, give Verses, though you borrow them of a friend, or buy them, to have good. If Valour, talk of your Sword, and be frequent in the menti on of Quarrels, though you be staunch in fighting. If activity be seen o'your Barbary often, or leaping over stools, for the credit of your back. If she love good clothes or dressing have your learned Counsel about you every morning, your French Taylor, Barber, Linnener, &c. Let your Poulder, your Glass, and your Comb, be your dearest acquaintance. Take more care for the ornament of your head, then the safety: and wish the Commonwealth rather troubled, then a hair about you. That will take her. Then if she be covetous and craving, do you promise any thing, and perform spam ringly: so shall you keep her in appetite still. Seem as you would give, but be Like a barren field that yields little, or unlucky Dice, to foolish, and hoping Gamesters. Let your gifts be flight, and dainty, ra her then precious. Let cun ning be above cost. Give Cherries at time of year, or Apri cots; and say they were sent you out of the Country, though you bought them in Cheap-siae. Admire her Tires; Like her in all fashions; compare her in every habit to some Deity; invent excellent Dreams to flatter her, and Riddles; or, if she be a great one, perform always the second parts to her: Like what she likes, praise whom she praises, and fail not to make the Household and Servants yours, yea the whole Family, and salute them by their names: (it's but light cost if you can purchase' hem so) and make her Physi cian your Pensioner, and her chief woman. Nor will it be out of your gain to make love to her too, so she follow, not usher, her Ladies pleasure. All blabbing is taken away, when she comes to be a partly of the crime. Good faith, I should rather question you, that are so harkening after these Mysteries. I begin to suspect your diligence, Dauphine. Speak, art thou in love in earnest? With which of them, I pray thee? No, I Like him well. Men should love wisely, and all women: someone for the face, and let her please the eye; another for the skin, and let her please the touch; a third for the voice, and let her please the ear; and where the Objects mix, let the senses so too. Thou wouldst think it strange, if I should make them all in love with thee a before Night! If I do not, let me play the Mount-bank for my meat while I live, and the Bawd for my drink. Come on, let's see a course then. Well said, Captain, i'faith: well fought at the Bull. Low, low, Captain. Gods so, off with his Spurs, somebody. You fought high and fair, Sir John. Oh, now he's in his vain, and bold. The least hint given him of his Wife now will make him rail desperately. Do you, and I'll fetch her to the hearing of it. Nay, Mistress Otter, hear him a little first. I'll rather believe you, Lady. Found, found. Found, found still. Best follow him, Dauphine. No: but he may make a new one, by that, is on. Away, Captain, get off while you are well. You had never been, unless we had put his Wife upon him. His humour is as tedious at last, as it was ridi culous at first. WE wondered why you shrieked so, Mistress Otter. Well said, La-fool; what a new one he has God! How rarely she holds it up! Why, wee'll entreat her to hold her peace, Sir. A very cheap Cure, Madame. Then it was the Sick-womans Salve. Why, Sir, she talks ten times worse in her sleep. And snores Like a Porcpisce. Some Divine must resolve you in that, Sir, or Can non Lawyer. You'll make him mad indeed, Ladies, if you pur sue this. How these Swabbers talk! God's-light, I will have them as silent as Signs, and their Posts too, ever I have done. Do you hear, Ladie-Bride? I pray thee now, as thou art a noble Wench, continue this Discourse of Dauphine within: but praise him exceedingly. Magnify him with all the height of affection thou canst. (I have some purpose in't) and but beat off these two Rooks, Jack Daw, and his fellow, with any discontentment hither, and I'll honour thee for ever. Pray thee perform it, and thou winnest me and Ido later to thee, everlasting. I, and strike at such and Eagle as Dauphine. Where's thine Uncle? Thou wouldst have said so, and thou hadst been here! The Ladies have laughed at thee, most Comically, since thou wentest, Dauphine. And the brace of Babouns answered, yes; and said, thou Wertenberg a pitiful poor fellow, and didst live upon posts: and hadst nothing but three Suits of Apparel, and some few Benevolences that Lords ga'thee to fool to hem, and swagger. Thou shalt not needs, they shall be beaten to thy hand, Dauphine. I have and Execution to serve upon them, I warrant thee shall serve: trust my plot. Why, If I do not yet afore night, as near as it's; and that they do not every one invite thee, and be ready to scratch for thee: take the mortgage of my wit. Agreed. Perhaps it'll be the better estate. Do you observe this Gallery? or rather Lobby, indeed? Here are a couple of Studies, at each end one: here will I act such a Tragi-comoedy between the Cuelphes, and the Ghi bellines, Daw and La-fool —which of them comes out first, will I seize on: (you two shall be the Chorus behind the Ar ras, and whip out between the Acts, and speak.) If I do not make them keep the peace, for this remnant of the day, if not of the year, I have failed once—I hear Daw come ming: Hide, and do not laugh, for Gods sake. Oh, Jack Daw! I am glad I have met with you. In good faith, I must have this matter go no further between you. I must have it taken up. Come, you disguise it—Sir Amorous and you. If you love me, Jack, you shall make use of your Philosophy now, for this once, and deliver me your Sword. This is not the Wed ding the Centaur's were at, though there be a shee-one here. The Bride has entreated me I will see no blood shed at her Bridal, you saw her whisper me erewhile. Do you not wait for Sir Amorous? And your Scholarship too? Go to, then I return you your Sword, and ask you mercy; but put it not up, for you will be assaulted. I understood that you had apprehended it, and walked here to brave him: and that you had held your life contemptible, in regard of your honour. Trust not you to that Visor. I saw him since Dinner with another face: I have known many men in my time vexed with losses, with doeths, and with abuses, but so of fended a Wight as Sir Amorous, did I never see, or read of. For taking away his Guests, Sir, to day, that's the cause: and he declares it behind your back; with such threatenings and centempts—He said to Dauphine, you were the er randst Ass— And swears you are so protested a Coward, that he knows you will never do him any manly or single right, and therefore he will take his course. I, Sir, but who knows what satisfaction hee'll take? blood he thirsts for, and blood he will have: and whereabouts on you he will have it, who knows but him self? He puts him up. Well, Sir, conceal your self then in this study, till I return. Nay, you must be content to be locked in: for, for mine own reputation I would not have you seen to re ceiue a public disgrace, while I have the matter in man aging. Gods so, here he comes: keep your breath close, that he do not hear you sighs. In good faith, Sir Amorous, he is not this way, I pray you be merciful, do not murder him; he is a Christian as good as you: you are armed as if you sought a revenge on all his Raze. Good Dauphine, get him away from this place. I never knew a men choler so high, but he would speak to his friends, he would hear reason. Jack Daw, Jack Daw! asleep? I, did you hear him? What a quick ear fear has? Armed? did you ever see a fellow, set out to take possession? That may give you some light, to conceive of him: but it's nothing to the principal. Some false Brother i'the house has furnished him strangely. Or, if it were out of the house, it was Tom Otter. He has God somebodies old two-hand-sword to mow you off at the knees. And that Sword hath spawned such a Dagger!—but then he is so hung with Pikes, Hall berds, Peitro else, Calivers, and Muskets, that he looks Like a Justice of Peace's Hall: a man of two thousand a year, is not sessed at so many weapons, as he has on. There was ne ver Fencer challenged at so many several Foils. You would think he meant to murder all Saint Pulehres Parish. If he could but victual himself for half a year, in his bree ches, he is sufficiently armed to overrun a Country. Well, I'll try if he will be appeased with a Leg or and Arm, if not you must die once. Why, if he will be satisfied with a thumb, or a little finger, all's one to me. You must think, I'll do my best. He will let me do nothing, man, he do's all afore me, he offers his left arm. How! Maim a man for ever, for a jest? what a con science hast thou? He is a Scholar, and a Wit, and yet he do's not think so. But he looses no reputation with us, for we all re solved him and Ass before. To your places again. Look, you'll spoil all: these be ever your tricks. I warrant you. I pray forbear, I'll leave it off, else. Sir Amorous! Whither were you going? By no means, Sir, you shall rather tempt your bree ches. Enter here, if you love your life. Question till your throat be cut, do: dally till the enraged soul find you. Daw it is: will you in? Nay, if he had been cool enough to tell us that, there had been some hope to atone you, but he seems so implacably enraged. Do, good Sir. But what have you done to him within, that should provoke him thus? you have broke some Jest upon him, afore the Ladies— By my faith, and that may be, you remember well: but he walks the round up and down, through every room o'the house, with a Towel in his hand, crying, where's La-fool? who saw La-fool? and when Dauphine, and I, de manded the cause, we can force no answer f om him, but (o revenge, how sweet art thou! I will strangle him in this Towel) which leads us to conjecture, that the main cause of his fury is for bringing your meat to day, with a Towel about you, to his discredit. A good becoming resolution, Sir. If you can put it on of the sudden. How will you get out o'the house, Sir? He knows you are in the house, and hee'll watch you this se'n-night but hee'll have you. Hee'll out-wait a Seriant for you. You must think, how to victual your self in time, then. A stool were better, Sir, of Sir Ajax his invention. Oh, I would not advise you to sleep by any means. Yet, there's another fear— No, he cannot break open this door with his foot, sure. But, then if he should batter. Cast you the worst. He has sent for poulder alrea die, and what he will do with it, no man knows: perhaps blow up the corner o'the house where be suspects you are. Here he comes, in quickly. I protest, Sir John Daw, He feigns as if one were pre sent, to fright the other, who is run in to hide him self. he is not this way: what will you do? before God, you shall would g no petard de here. I'll die rather Will you not take my word? I never knew one but would be satisfied. Sir Amorous, there's no standing out. He has made a petarde of and old brass Pot, to force your door. Think upon some satisfaction or terms, to offer him. You'll leave it to me, then? He calls forth Cleri mont, and Dauphine. How now, what think you, Sirs? were't not a dif ficult thing to determine, which of these two feared most. Had it not been pity, these two should ha'beene concealed? Briefly. For I must strike while it's hight. Umh? I, by my troth. Well, J will have them fetched, now I think on't, for a private purpose of mine: do, Clerimont, fetch them, and discourse to them all that's passed, and bring them into the Gallery here. Thou shalt see, how unjust thou art, presently. Cle rimont, say it was Dauphine is plot. Trust me not, if the whole drift be not for thy good. There's a Carpet in the next room, put it on, with this Scarf over thy face, and a Cushion of thy head, and be ready when I call Amorous. A way—. John Daw. Faith, I have followed, and argued with him hard for you. I told him, you were a Knight, and a Scholar; and that you knew fortitude did consist magis patiendo quam fa ciendo, magis ferendo quam feriendo. And that you would suffer, I told him: so, at first he demanded, by my troth, in my conceit, too much. Your upper lip, and six of your foreteeth. Nay, I told him plainly, you could not spare them all. So after long argument ( pro & con, as you know) I brought him down to your two Butter-teeth, and them he would have. But he shall not, Sir, by your leave. The conclusi on is this, Sir, because you shall be very good friends hereaf ter, and this never to be remembered, or upbraided; beside, that he may not boast, he has done any such thing to you in his own person: he is to come here in disguise, give you five kicks in private, Sir, take your Sword from you, and lock you up in that Study, during pleasure. Which will be but a little while, wee'll get it released presently. Believe me, you shall not overshoot your self, to send him that word by me. Friends? Nay, and he should not be so, and hearti lie too, upon these terms, he shall have me to enemy while I live. Come, Sir, bear it bravely. True. What's six kicks to a man, that reads Seneca? Sir Amorous. No speaking one to another, Dauphine comes forth, and kicks him. or re hearsing old matters. Nay, I told you should not talk. Come give him six, and he will needs. Your Sword. Now return to your safe custody: you shall presently meet afore the Ladies, and be the dearest friends one to another—Give me the Scarf, now, thou shalt Beatrice the other barefaced. Stand by, Sir A morous. I cannot help it, without I should take the quarrel upon my self: here he has sent you his Sword— And he wills you to fasten it against a wall, and break your head in some few several places against the Hilts. Will you not? Why, this is strange starting off, when a man under takes for you! I offered him another condition: will you stand to that? Then you must submit your self to be hood-win k'd in this Scarce, and be led to him, where he will take your Sword from you, and make you bear a blow, over the Mouth, Gules, and tweaks by the Nose, Sans num bre. That's for your good, Sir: because, if he should grow insolent upon this, and publ sh it hereafter to your disgrace (which I hope he will not do) you might swear safely and protest, he never beat you to your know ledge. I do not doubt, but you'll be perfect good friends vpon't, and not dare to utter and ill thought one of a neither, in future. Nor he of you, Sir. If he should—Come, Sir. All hid, Sir John. Good Sir John, leave tweaking, you'll blow his Nose off. It's Sir John's pleasure, you should retire into the Study. Why, now you are friends. All bitterness be tween you, I hope, is buried; you shall come forth by and by, Damon and Pythias vpon't: and embrace with all the rankness of Friendship that can be. I trust, we shall have them tamer i'their Language hereafter. Dauphine, I wor ship thee. Gods will, the Ladies have surprised us! Centaur, how our judgements were imposed on by these adulterate Knights! See, how they eye thee, man! they are taken I war rant thee. Not I, Madame, it was Sir Dauphiness inginer: who, if he have disfurnished your Ladyship of any guard, or sir vice by it, is able to make the place good again, in himself. Did not I tell thee, Dauphine? Why, all their acti ons are governed by crude opinion, without reason or cause; they know not why they do any thing: but as they are in formed, believe, judge, praise, condemn, love, hate, and in aemulation one of another, do all these things alike. One lie, they have a natural inclination sways them generally to the worst, when they are left to themselves. But, pursue it, now thou haft them. Stay, good Madame, the interview of the two friends, Pylades and Orestes: I'll fetch them out to you straight. Sir Amorous, Sir Amorous. The Ladies are here. Yes, but slip out by and by, as their backs are turned, and meet Sir John here, as by chance, when I call you. Jack Daw. Whip out behind me suddenly: and no anger in your looks to your Adversary. Now, now. Oh, they meet in peace, man. Nay, there is so in the points too, I warrant you. Oh, Sir! here hath Like to been muder since you went! A couple of Knights fallen out about the Brides favours: we were feign to take away their weapons, your house had been begged by this time else— I, Sir, heretofore, not present. Clerimont, carry them their Swords, now. They have done all the hurt they will do. Why, Sir, if you would be resolved indeed, I can bring you hither a very sufficient Lawyer, and a Learned Divine, that shall inquire into every least scruple for you. Alas, Sir! your Nephew, and I, have been asha med, and ofttimes mad since you went, to think how you are abused. Go in, good Sir, and lock your self up till we call you, wee'll tell you more anon, Sir. You shall find none, Sir: but heaped, heaped plenty of vexation. Recover me hither Otter, and the Barber if you can, by any means, presently. Oh, I'll make the deepest Divine, and gravest Law year, out of them two, for him— Do not fear me. Clap but a Civil Gown with a Welt, of the one; and a Canonical Cloak with Sleeves, of the other: and give them a few terms in their mouths, if there come not forth as able a Doctor, and complete a Par son, for this turn, as may be wished, trust not my Electi on. And, I hope without wronging the dignity of either Profession, since they are but persons put on, and for mirths sake, to torment him. The Barber smatters Latin, I remember. Well then, if I make them not wrangle out this Case, to his no comfort, let me be thought a lack Daw, or La-fool, or any thing worse, Go you to your Ladies, but first send for them. Yes, Sir, please you salute them? It's true, Sir, wee'll go to the matter then. Gen tlemen, Master Doctor, and Master Parson, I have acquain ted you sufficiently with the business, for which you are come hither. And you are not now to inform your selves in the state of the question, I know. This is the Gentleman, who expects your resolution, and therefore, when you please, begin. Well, good Master Doctor, will you break the ice? Master parson will wade after. Oh, you must give the learned men leave, Sir. To your impediments, Master Doctor. Alas, Sir, what a hope are we fallen from, by this time! Yes, he has done half, Sir. (On, to the rest) be pa tient, and expect, Sir. Why, there is comfort come at length, Sir. Con fesse your self but a man unable, and she will sue to be di uorc'd first. Your impotentes, you whoreson Lobster. Matrimonium? We shall have most vn-matrimo niall Latin, with you: Matrimonia, and be hanged. Nay, good Sir, attend the learned men, they'll think you neglect them else. You will not do me that wrong, Sir? Nay, hear the conclusion, Sir. Stay, Ladies, and Gentlemen, you'll hear, before uproceed? Be brief, Sir, and confess your infirmity, shee'll be afire to be quit of you, if she but hear that named once, you shall not entreat her to stay. Shee'll fly you, Like one that had the marks upon him. Silence, Ladies. But now being better informed in his conscience by them, he is to declare it, and give satisfaction, by asking your public forgiveness. Why, if you suspect that, Ladies, you may have him searched. Nay, Sir, be not utterly disheartened, we have yet a small relike of hope left, as near as our comfort is blown out. Clerimont, produce your brace of Knights. What was that, Master Parson, you told me in errore qualitatis e'ne now? Dauphine, whisper the Bride, that she carry it as if she were guilty, and ashamed. If this be true, we are happy again, Sir, once more. Here are and honourable brace of Knights, that shall affirm so much. Jack Daw, he's worse then Sir Amorous: fiercer a great deal. Sir Amorous, beware, there be ten Daws in this Clerimont. So should you be too, Jack Daw: what should keep you off? she is but a woman, and in disgrace. Hee'll be glad on't. Why, and it must it shall, Sir, they say. They'll never go back. Do not tempt his patience. You see, what creatures you may bestow your fa uours on, Madames. Well, Dauphine, you have lurched your friends of the better half of the Garland, by concealing this partly of the plot: but much good do it thee, thou deservest it, Lad. And Clerimont, for thy unexpected bringing in these two to confession, wear my partly of it freely. Nay, Sir Daw, and Sir La-fool, you see the Gentlewoman that has done you the favours! we are all thankful to you, and so should the woe mankind here, specially for lying on her, though not with her! You meant so, I am sure? But, that we have stuck it upon you to day, in your own imagined persons, and so lately; this Amazon, the Champion of the sex, should Beatrice you now thriftily, for the common slanders, which La die receive from such Cuckoos, as you are. You are they, that when no merit or fortune can make you hope to enjoy their bodies, will yet lie with their reputations, and make their fame suffer. Away you common Moths of these, and all Ladies honours, Go, travail to make legs and faces, and come home with some new matter to be laughed at: you deserve to live in and Air as corrupted, as that wherewith you feed rumour. Madames, you are mute, upon this new Metamorphosis! but here stands she, that has vindicated your fame's. Take heed of such insectae hereafter. And let it not trou ble you that you have discovered any Mysteries to this young Gentleman. He is (a'most) of years, and will make a good Visitant within this twelvemonth. In the mean time, we'll all undertake for his secrecy, that can speak so well of his silence. Spectators, if you Like this Comedy, rise cheer fully, and now Morose is gone in, clap your hands. It may be, that noise will cure him, at least please him. Sick of the Uncle? is he? I met that stiff piece of Formality, his Uncle, yesterday, with a huge Turbant of Nightcaps on his head, buckled over his ears. The spitting, the coughing, the laughter, the nee sing, the farting, dancing, noise of the Music, and her masculine, and loud commanding, and urging the whole Family, makes him think he has married a Fury.