KEEP

SWeet Mistress, pray you be merry: you are sure To have a husband now. Yes, and by my Ladies means— A Lawyers wife. Is a brave calling. Gentle Mistress Practice! I, and close, And cunning Mrs. Practice! And to shine in Plush. Lady Diaphanous sounds most delicate! We were enchanting all; wishing a husband For my young Mistress here. A man to please her. A remora Mistress! Alas good Mistress Polish, I am no Saint, Much less, my Lady, to be urged give health, Or sickness at my will: but to await The stars good pleasure, and to do my duty. Here's Mr. Doctor himself, cannot do that I have a months mind, To peep a little too. Sweet Mas' Needle, How are they set? And my young Mrs. by her? Run for the cellar of strong waters, quickly. She's in a sweat. She's somewhat better. Mr. Item has brought her A little about. Oh Mr. Doctor, and his Apothecary Inter Good Mr. Item, and my Mistress Polish! We needs you all above! She's fallen again, In a worse fit then ever. Your charge. Where's Mr. Needle? Saw you Mr. Needle? We are undone. My Mistress is undone, she's crying out! Where is this man trow? Mr. Needle? Run for the party, Mrs. Chair the Midwife. Nay, look how the man stands, as he were gok't! She's lost, if you not haste away the party. Where a scoffing man is. And his Apothecary, little better; They laugh, and gear at all: will you dispatch? And fetch the party quickly to our Mistress: We are all undone! The Timpany will out else. What'll you do? you have done too much already With your prick-seame, and throughstitch. Mr. Needle, I pray you fit not fabling here old tales, Good Mother Chair, the Midwife, but come up. In her Chamber Locked up, I think: shee'll speak with no body. Alas Sir, no; Would she might never know it. What you please, Dame Polish, My Ladies Stroaker. Good Lady Empress! Had I the keeping of your Daughters clicket In charge? was that committed to my trust? Let all the world be witness. Afore I'll Endure the Tyranny of such a tongue— And such a pride—. Tell truth, And shame the She-man-Divell in puffed sleeves; Run any hazard, by revealing all Unto my Lady: how you changed the cradles, And changed the children in them. Calling your Daughter Pleasance, there Placentia, And my true Mistress by the name of Pleasance. I will be louder: And cry it through the house, through every room, And every office of the Lawndry-maids: Till it be born hight to my Ladies ears. Ere I will live in such a slavery, I'll do away my self. It was a practice of impiety, Out of your wicked forge, I know it now, My conscience tells me. First, against the Infants, To rob them of their names, and their true parents; to abuse the neighbourhood, keep them in error; But most my Lady: She has the main wrong: And I will let her know it instantly. Repentance, (if it be true) never comes too late. The Pease-dresser! I'll hear no peace from her. I have been wronged, So has my Lady, my good Ladies worship, And I will right her, hoping shee'll right me. I do confess, she knows Something—and I know something—. Nothing Grieved me so much, as when you called me Baud: Witch did not trouble me, nor Gipsy; no Nor Beggar. But a Baud, was such a name! She does deserve as many pensions, As there be pieces in a—Maidenhead; Were I a Prince to give them. I told it? no, he knows it, and much more, As he's a cunning man. And shee'l say wisely, As any mouth in the Parish. Fix on one, Fix upon one, good Mistress.