Dol. Yes.

Face. And how do you like

The Lady Pliant?

Dol. A good dull innocent.

Sub. Here's your Hieronimo's cloak and hat.
Fuce. Give me 'em.

Sub. And the ruff too?

Face. Yes, I'll come to you presently.

Sub. Now he is gone about his project, Dol,

I told you of, for the widow.

Dol. 'Tis direct

Against our articles.

Sub. Well, we'll fit him, wench.

Hast thou gull'd her of her jewels, or her bracelets?

Dol. No, but I will do't.

Sub. Soon at night, my Dolly,

When we are shipt, and all our goods aboard, Eastward for Ratcliff; we will turn our course To Brainford, westward, if thou say'st the word: And take our leaves of this o'erweening rascal, This peremptory Face.

Dol. Content, I'm weary of him.

Sub. Thou hast cause, when the slave will run a wiving, Dol,

Against the instrument that was drawn between

And girdles, and hangers?
Sub. Here, i' the trunk,
And the bolts of lawn.

Face. Is Drugger's damask there? And the tobacco?

my master

Knows all, has pardon'd me, and he will keep❜em.
Doctor, 'tis true, you look, for all your figures :
I sent for him, indeed. Wherefore, good partners,
Both he and she, be satisfied: For, here
Determines the Indenture tripartite
'Twixt Subtle, Dol, and Face! All I can do
Is to help you over the wall, o'the back-side;
Or lend you sheet to save your velvet-gown, Dol.
Here will be officers presently; bethink you
Of some course suddenly to 'scape the dock;
For thither you'll come else. Hark you, thun-
[Some knock.

der!

Sub. You are a precious fiend!

Offi. Open the door.

Face. Dol, I'm sorry for thee, i'faith.-But

hear'st thou?

It shall go hard, but I will place thee somewhere;

Thou shalt ha' my letter to mistress Amo.

Dol. Hang you

Face. Or Madam Cæsarean.

Dol. Pox upon you, rogue! Would I had but time to beat thee. Face. Subtle,

Let's know where you set up next; I'll send you A customer, now and then, for old acquaintance: What new course ha' you?

Sub. Rogue, I'll hang myself: That I may walk a greater devil than thou, And haunt thee i' the flock-bed, and the buttery. [Exeunt.

SCENE V.

LOVE-WIT, Officers, MAMMON, SURLY, FACE,
KASTRIL, ANANIAS, TRIBULATION, DRUG-
GER, and Dame PLIANT.

Love. What do you mean, my masters?
Mam. Open your door,

Cheaters, bawds, conjurers.
Offi. Or we'll break it open.

Love. What warrant have you?

Offi. Warrant enough, sir, doubt not:

If you'll not open it.

Love. Is there an officer there?

Offi. Yes, two or three for failing.

Love. Have but patience,

And I will open it straight.

Face. Sir, ha' you done?

Is it a marriage? perfect?

Love. Yes, my brain.

Ana. They are the vessels Of pride, lust, and the cart. Love. Good zeal, lie still A little while!

Trib. Peace, deacon Ananias!

Love. The house is mine here, and the doors
are open:

If there be any such persons as you seek for,
Use your authority, search on o' God's name,
I'm but newly come to town, and finding
This tumult 'bout my door, to tell you true,
It somewhat 'maz'd me; 'till my man here,
fearing

My more displeasure, told me he'd done
Somewhat an insolent part, let out my house,
Belike presuming on my known aversion
From any air o' the town, while there was sick-

The empty walls worse than I left 'em, smok'd,
A few crack'd pots and glasses, and a furnace,
The ceiling fill'd with poesies of the candle:
And madam, with a dildo, writ o' the walls.
Only one gentlewoman I met here,
That is within, that said she was a widow-
Kast. Ay, that's my sister. I'll go thump her.
Where is she?

Love. And should ha' married a Spanish count, but he,

yourself, sir!

That I, a widower, am gone through with her. Sur. How have I lost her then?

Love. Were you the Don, sir?

Good faith, now, she does blame you extremely,

and says

You swore, and told her, you had ta'en the pains
To dye your beard, and umbre o'er your face,
Borrow'd a suit and ruff, all for her love!
And then did nothing. What an oversight,
And want of putting forward, sir, was this!
Well-fare, an old harquebuseer yet,

Could prime his powder, and give fire, and hit,
All in a twinkling!-

Mam. The whole nest are fled!

[Coming forth. Love. What sort of birds were they? Mam. A kind of choughs,

Or thievish daws, sir, that have pick'd my purse Of eightscore and ten pounds within these five

weeks,

Beside my first materials; and my goods That lie i' the cellar: which I'm glad they ha' left.

I may have home yet.

Love. Think you so, sir?
Mam. Ay.

Love. By order of law, sir, but not otherwise.
Mam. Not mine own stuff?

Love: Sir, I can take no knowledge

That they are yours, but by public means,

If you can bring certificate that you' were gull'd of 'em,

Or any formal writ out of a court,

That you did cozen yourself, I will not hold them. Mam, I'll rather lose 'em.

Love. That you shall not, sir,

By me, in troth. Upon these terms they are

yours.

What should they ha' been, sir? turn'd into gold all?

Mam. No: I cannot tell.

It may be they should. What then?

Love. What a great loss in hope have you sustain❜d!

Mam. Not I, the commonwealth has.
Face. Ay, he would ha' built

The city new, and made a ditch about it
Of silver, should have ran with cream from
Hogsdon:

That, every Sunday in Moorfields, the younkers,
And tits, and tomboys, should have fed on gratis.
Mam. I will go mount a turnip-cart, and preach
To the end o' the world, within these two months.
Surly, what! in a dream?

Sur. Must I needs cheat myself, With that same foolish vice of honesty! Come, let us go, and hearken out the rogues. That Face I'll mark for mine, if e'er I meet him. Face. If I can hear of him, sir, I'll bring you word

Unto your lodging:-for, in troth, they were strangers

To me:-I thought them honest as myself, sir. Trib. 'Tis well, the saints shall not lose all yet. Go,

And get some carts

[They come forth.

Love. For what, my zealous friends?

Ana. To bear away the portion of the righteous

Out of this den of thieves.

Love. What is that portion?

Ana. I am strong,

And will stand up, well girt, against an host
That threaten Gad in exile.

Love. I shall send you
To Amsterdam, to your cellar.
Ana. I will pray there

Against thy house: may dogs defile thy walls,
And wasps and hornets breed beneath thy roof,
This seat of falsehood, and this cave of coz'nage!
Love. Away, you Harry Nicolas, do you talk ?
[Beats DRUGGER away.

Face. No, this was Abel Drugger.-Good sir, go [To the Parson. And satisfy him; tell him, all is done: He staid too long a-washing of his face. The doctor he shall hear of him at Westchester; And of the captain, tell him, at Yarmouth; or Some good port-town else, lying for a wind.— If you get off the angry child, now, sir

Kast. Come on, you ewe, you have match'd most sweetly, ha' you not?

Did not I say, I would never ha' you tupp'd [To his Sister. But by a dubb'd boy, to make you a Lady-Tom? 'Slight, you are a mammet! O, I could touse you now.

Death, mun' you marry with a pox!

Love. You lie, boy;

As sound as you; and I'm aforehand with you. Kast. Anon!

Love. Come, will you quarrel! I will seize you, sirrah.

Why do you not buckle to your tools?
Kast. God's light!

This is a fine old boy as e'er I saw!

Love. What, do you change your copy now?

Proceed,

the brethren

I honour thee for this match.

Love. O, do you so, sir?

Kast. Yes; and thou canst take tobacco, and

BY

Pleasure attend ye, and about ye sit
The springs of mirth, fancy, delight and wit!
To stir you up, do not your looks let fall,
Nor to remembrance our late errors call,
Because this day we're Spaniards all again,
The story of our play: and our scene Spain :--
The errors too, do not for this cause hate,
Now we present their wit and not their state.
Nor, ladies! be not angry if you see
A young fresh beauty, wanton and too free,
Seek to abuse her husband;-still 'tis Spain,
No such gross errors in your kingdom reign!
We are vestals all, and though we blow the fire,
We seldom make it flame up to desire :-