The guardian, a comedie acted before Prince Charls, His Highness at Trinity-Colledg in Cambridge, upon the twelfth of March, 1641
Cowley, Abraham, 1618-1667.

Act. 4. Scaen. 2.

Cutter, Dogrel, Puny, Lucia.
Cut.

Hei! the Sisters are ravisht, and we have holy kisses enough. I shall be as great among 'um as—Who's there? What, your Spouse, Pury?

Dog.

She looks like Niobe on the moun∣tains top.

Cut.

That Niobe, Dogrel, you have us'd worse then Phoebus did. Not a dog looks melancholy, but he's compar'd to Niobe. He beat a villanous Tapster t'other day, to make him look like Niobe.

Pun.

Why 'faith that 's pretty odde, like one o' mine.

Luc.

O, Sir, had you the vertuous impu∣dence to slander a poor maid thus?

Pun.

Poor enough now indeed. I will not marry thee: thy portion was a condition of the Contract. I'll sooner marry a woman that sells Orenges with a face like Belins∣gate.

Luc.

I scorn thee—I contracted to thee?

Pun.

Wert not? Answer.

Page  [unnumbered]
Luc.

No, by heaven.

Pun.

Bear witness, Gentlemen; these words are Caduus benedictus to me.

Cut.

And what will you do now, fair Gammer Lucia, you that contemn'd the Co∣lonel? Will you knit for your living?

Dog.

Or else weed gardens for six pence a day and bread.

Luc.

This is unheard-of rudeness.

Pun.

Nay let me ha' mine too; I ha' got a pat one for her. Or else turn Apple-wo∣man, live in a stall, and sell pippins for eight a peny.

Dog.
Or hither in triumph 'twixt two panniers ride,
And sell the bouls of wheat and butter in Cheapside.
The last is a little too long: but I imitate Spencer.
Cut.

What think ye, Gentlemen? she'll make a pretty Landress.

Pun.

A Landress? hang her, she looks like a foul handkercher.

Luc.

Pray let me go; I ha' business re∣quires me.

Cut.

What? you're to meet some Gen∣tlemen? How is't? twelve pence a time, I warrant, in these cloathes.

Dog.

Where do you set up? Nay, we are true strikers. What, is't in Covent-garden?

Cut.

Or do you renew the decay'd credit of Turnbal-street?

Pun.

Or honour the Mill-bank at West∣minster.

Dog.

Or flee to Wapping, and engross the Sailors.

Cut.

Or Moor-fields, and sell cakes.

Luc.

Are all barbarous here?

Dog.

Nay tell's; we shall be customers.

Pun.

Enough, enough; give her a clap o'the breech, and let her go.

Cut.

Well, fare thee well, girl; we shall finde you at the Play house i' the six-peny-room sometimes.

Dog.

And d'ye hear, Lucia, Keep your self wholesome: your tub's a terrible thing.

Luc.
Unworthy villains— But I'm born to wrongs,
And must endure 'um.
Exit.
Omn.

Ha, ha, ha.

Cut.

A pretty Scene i'faith. Now for the Captain; he'll entertain us like forraign Princes: we'll drink this half-yeer with him before we eat or sleep.

Pun.

I'll drink like Gog-Magog himself, or the Spanish Tinker on a holy-day.

Dog.
There will I whet my Lyrick Muse
With Falern wine as I do use.
Captain Blade cannot refuse
To entertain us; he cannot chuse,
When we bring him such good news,
As that his neece is gone to the stews.
Cut.

Leave your verses, Dogrel. I hate your verses, Dogrel, till I be drunk. 'Tis a glori∣ous Captain.

Dog.

As free as Free-town in Germany▪ Here comes Ieronymo.