Fathers own son a comedy formerly acted at the private house in Black Fryers, and now at the Theatre in Vere-Street by His Majesties servants / the author John Fletcher, Gent.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Hylas.

Hyl.

I Have dog'd his sister, sure 'twas she, And I hope she will come back again this night too:

Sam

I have lost of purpose: now if I can With all the art I have, as she comes backe, But win a parley for my broken pate, Off goes her maiden-head, and there's vindict••. They stir about the house, I'le stand at distance.

Exit.

Enter Mary and Dorothy, and then Thomas & Maid.

Doll.

Is he come in?

Mar.

Speake softly, He is, and there he goes.

Tho.

Good night, good night wench.

a bed discovered with a black More in it.

Maid

As softly as you can.

Exit••

Tho.

I'le play the Mouse Nan, How close the lit••le thiefe lyes.

Mar.

How he itches?

Doll.

What would you give now to be there, and I At home Mall?

Ma.

Peace for shame.

Tom.

In what a figure The little foole has pull'd it selfe together: Anone you will lye streighter: Ha, ther's rare circumstance Belongs to such a treatise: doe ye tumble, I'le tumble with ye straight wench: she sleeps soundly, Full little thinkst thou of thy joy that'•• comming, The sweet, sweet joy, full little of the kis••es, But those unthought of things com•• ever happiest. How soft the rogue feeles? Oye little villaine, Ye delicate coy thiefe, how I shall thrum ye?

Your fy away, good servant, as ye are a gentleman••

Ma.

Prethee leave laughing. Out upon ye Thomas What do ye meane to do? ile call the house up, O god•• I am sure ye will not, shall not serve ye, For up ye goe now, and ye were my Father.

Ma.

Your courage wilbe cold anon.

Tho••

If it do hang for' Yet ile be quarterd here first.

Dor.

O feirce villaine.

Ma.

What would he do indeed Doll?

Dor.

You had best try him.

Tho.

Ile kisse thee ere I come to bed: sweet Mary.

Ma.

Prethee leave laughing.

Dor.

O, for gentle Nicholas.

Tho.

And view that stormy face, that has so thundered me, A coldne's crept over't now; by your leave, candle, And next doore by yours too, so, a pretty, pretty Shall I now looke upon ye: by this light it moves me.

Ma.

Much good may it do you sir.

Tho.

Holy saint••, defend me. The devill, devill, devill, devill, O the devill.

Ma.

Dor. Ha, ha, ha, ha, the devill O the devill.

Tho.

I am abus'd most damnedly: most beastly, Yet if it be a she devill: But the house is up, And here's no staying longer in this Cassock, Woman, I here disclaime thee; and in vengeance Ile marry with that devill, but ile vex thee.

Ma.

Byr' Lady, but you shall not sir, ile watch ye.

Tho.

Plague O your spanish leather hide; ile waken ye: Devill, good night: good night good devill.

Moore.

Oh.

Tho.

Rore againe, devill, rore againe.

Ex. Tho.

Moore.

O, O, sir.

Ma.

Open the doores before him: let him vanish. Now, let him come againe, ile use him kinder How now Wench.

Moore.

Pray lye here your self, nex•• Mistris

And entertaine your sweet heart.

Ma.

What said he to thee.

Moore.

I had a soft bed: and I slept out all, But his kind farewell: ye may bake me now For O my conscience, he has made m•• venison.

Ma.

Alas poore Kat••; ile give thee a new Petticoate,

Dor.

And I a Wastcoate, Wench.

Ma.

Draw in the bed Maides, And see it made againe; put fresh sheetes on too, For Doll. and I: come Wench, lets laugh an houre now, To morrow earely, will wee see yong Cellid•• They say she has taken Sanctuary: love, & they Are thicke sowne, but come up so full of thistles.

Dor.

They must needs Mall: for 'tis a pricking age grown Prethee to bed, for I am monstrous sleepy••

Ma.

A match, but art not thou thy brother?

Dor.

Would I were Wench, You should heare further.

Ma.

Come, no more of that Doll.

Exeunt.