Totenham Court A pleasant comedie: acted in the yeare MDCXXXIII. At the private house in Salisbury-Court. The author Thomas Nabbes.

The seventh Scoene.

Enter CHANGELOVE, WIFE; STITCHVVELI in a Chayre asleepe.

Wife.

The effects of drinking, Mr. Changelove: his head should be troubled with something else, were he rul'd by me. But he cares not for my counsell, nor mee. I could eene curse mine own kindnes, that am ready still to make more of him then he doth of me.

Chang.

Why doe you not then—

Wife.

What sir? I warrant you meane make him a Cuckold.

Chan.

That's a grosse construction. Give a friend leave to do you a pleasure, or so. The truth is Mistris I love you.

Wife.

You were ever kind Mr. Changelove.

Chang.

And would your freenes give me leave t'enjoy Those sweets, although forbidden, 'twould be a happines 'Bove my desire. Be assur'd my secrecie Is firme as night and locks.

Wif.

S••cresie, Mr. Changelove? I would have you know I will be open to all the world. I'le doe no more in the darke, then in this very place, were my husbands eyes open.

Chan.

Here then. He sleeps s••curely, never dreaming Of any foreheads arming.

Wife.

Fie Mr. Changelove, you are such a tempter. Pray 〈◊〉〈◊〉 many a woman would not hold out so long.

Chang.

Consent then sweet; wee'•• to it.

Stitch.

Ware hornes there.

Chan.

Mischiefe, what noise hath wak't him?

Wife.

An infirmitie hee hath to talke in's sleepe. Nay I assure you hee will rise sometimes and doe the office of a waking man in his dreame, and not know of it in the Morning.

Stitch.

Rome for one of the headmen in his Parish: a monster of his wifes making.

Wife.

Wicked man; hee dreames now that I would make him a Cuckold.

Change.

Send it be no counterfeit.

Stitch.

And have I tane you sir Lancelot? would you be billing with my Gumiver?

Puls Changelove by the eares.

Chang.

Helpe me Mistris Stitchwell.

Wife.

Take it patiently Sir: his sit will bee over pre∣sently.

Stit.

For this attempt King Arthur doth here degrade thee from a Knight of his round Table, to bee a Squire of his Wifes body. So conduct me to her bed; where I will beget a race of warriours shall cage thy great Turkship a∣gaine, and restore Constantinople to the Emperour.

Chan.

You mistake: oh. My Perriwig is not a Turbant.

Stit.

Peace follows victory, let us now to rest.

Wife.

Pray sir, forgive him: I dare undertake hee'l be sorry for it when he wakes. If any thing I can may make amends.

Chan.

Prove his dreame true. When the smart's over I shall forget it.

Enter Tapster.

Tap.

A quest of inquiry is sent all the house over to looke you Mistris. The gentlewomans maid was in a swound: they wanted your assistance.

Stit.

Who wants assistance? who breaks the Kings peace? fetch me my Constables staffe.

Chan.

Hee'l dreame againe: had I best stay?

Wife.

Now drunkard, are you recoverd yet?

Stit.

Wife and Mr. Changelove, wheres the company?

Wife.

Gone, being weary of such a sot as you make your selfe. Pretend a walke for health and recreation, to bee drunke so early? I had done well to have served you in your kinde: here were gentlemen enough that would have brought me home; and some not farre off that used me kindly, whilst you snorted to fright sl••as, and dream't perhaps some wickednesse of me.

Stit.

Prethee peace sweet wife: Ile mend all.

Wife.

I promise you, you shall never mend me, till you doe better your selfe.

Stit.

I'le buy my pardon for it with a new gowne, and a journey into the Countrey next vacation.

Wife.

You know Iohn I am easie to be wrought upon.

Tap.

Will you discharge the reckoning Mr. Changelove?

Chang.

Not willingly: I doe not love it. No revenge upon this dreaming tyrant over unpaid for gallantry? A protection to defraud him is long since provided. What is your reckoning, Robin?

Tap.

Nine and three-pence sir.

Chang.

The particulars.

Tapst.

Cakes two shillings. Ale as much. A quart of mortify'd Claret eight pence. Stewd pruins twelve pence.

Change.

They were deare.

Tap.

Truely, they cost a penny the pound of the one-handed Coster-monger, out of his wifes fish-basket. A quart of Creame, twelve-pence.

Chang.

That's too excessive.

Tapst.

Not if you consider how many Carriers egges miscarried in the making of it; and the charge of Ising-glasse and other ingredients to cremifie the soure milke.

Chang.

All this is but a Noble.

Tap.

Pray marke me sir, I'le make it more. Twelve-pence Sugar. You had bread sir.

Stit.

And we had drinke sir.

Tap.

'Tis granted sir. A pound of sausedges, and other things, nine shillings and three-pence. Our Barre never erres.

Chang.

I'le talke with your Mistris. You know my mea∣ning Robin.

steales away.

Wife.

Oh the extortion of Tottenham-Court!

Stit.

No matter Wife: kinde Mr. Changelove will pay for all. Ha! where is hee?

Tap.

Gone Sir.

Stit.

Then give me my Cloake.

Tap.

The reckoning first Sir.

Stit.

How! must Taylors pay Gallants reckonings?

Wife.

Sure husband, he intends this a satisfaction for his beating.

Stit.

Have you such tricks? No great matter: 'tis but adding it to his bill in my debt-booke, and presently arre∣sting him with a fat Martiallist. Here sirrah.

Tap.

Y'are welcome Sir. Some profit comes from hence: I have ore-reckon'd one and twenty-pence.

Exeunt.