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BY all that a longing Bride hopes for, which I am not, I am better pleas'd with this Revenge then mine own plot, which takes as I could wish; I have so anointed my high Priests with Sack, that he would have confuted Baal's Priest; and now he do's
so slumber in his Ale, and calls to bed already, sweares the Sun is set.
Faith, Wench, her abusing of me made me leave her for the Reckoning.
Yes, faith, they have treated her upsey Whore lain with her, told, and then pawn'd her.
Yes, yes, you are fine things; I wonder Women, can en∣dure you; for me, I expect you worse, and am arm'd for't.
Faith let's send and release her, the jest is gone far enough; as I live, I pity her.
Pity her? hang her, and rid the Country of her, she is a thing weares out her limbs as fast as her cloathes, one that never goes to bed at all, nor sleepes in a whole skin, but is taken to pieces like a Motion, as if she were too long; she should be hang'd for offring to be a Whore.
As I live, she is in the right; I peep'd once to see what she did before she went to bed; By this light, her Maids were dis∣secting her; and when they had done, they brought some of her to bed, and the rest they either pin'd or hung up, and so she lay dis∣membred till Morning; in which time, her Chamber was strew'd all over, like an Anatomy School.
And when she travels any where she is transported with as great a care, and fear of spoiling, as a Juglers Motion, when he re∣moves from Faire to Faire.
She is a right broken Gamester, who, though she lacks wherewithall to play, yet loves to be looking on.
He is awake, and calls for you impatiently, he would fain be in Bed, the Company is all gone.
Are you instructed?
Let me alone, I'll warrant you for my part.
Farewell then, you are all ready; who playes Master Constable?
I, I; and Ned Jolly the sumner.
Farewell, farewell then.
It is a delicate wench.
She has excellent flesh, and a fine face; by this light, we
I like her shrewdly; I hate a wench that is all Whore and no Company; This is a Comedy all day, and a Faire at night.
I hope to exalt the Parsons horn here.
And what think you? is it not a sweet sin, this lying with another mans Wife?
Is Jolly come
No, but he'll be here instantly.
Is he a bed?
Yes, yes, and he sleepes as if he had been put to bed by his Sexton, with dust to dust, and ashes to ashes.
And we'll wake him with that shall be as terrible to him as the latter day.
Let him sleep a while that he may be fresh, else the Jest is spoil'd; for it is his sense of his disgrace must work my Ends.
I'll go home then, and get supper ready, and expect you.
Do, Our Scene lies here; Who's there, Jolly?
Yes.
Are you fitted?
Yes, I have got the Black-fryers Musick; I was fain to stay till the last Act; and who do you think I saw there?
I know not.
Guess.
Prithee, I cannot guess.
Your Aunt and Mistriss Pleasant, and trusty Secret.
What man?
The Lovers onely, so close in a Box!
It will be a match, and there's an End; prithee let them go to't; what is't to Us, let's mind our busines now, and think on them hereafter.
A pox upon them for a couple of Stauk-hounds; have they killed at last? Why, this is Fools fortune; it would be long enough ere one that has wit got such a wife.
No more of this now; have you borrowed the watchmens Coats?
Yes, and Bills, Beards, and Constables staff, and Lanthorn; and let me alone to fit him, for the Summer; But when this is done I expect my Fee, a Tythe Night at least; Wanton, I will lie with thee for thy Roguery; what are you dumb, you will not refuse me, I hope?
Not, if I thought thou desiredst it; but I hate to have it desired indifferently, and but so so done neither when 'tis done.
I hope you will not disgrace my work, will you?
Faith, they say thy pleasure lies in thy Tongue; and there∣fore, Though I do not give thee leave to lie with me, yet I will give thee as good a thing that will please thee as well.
Some Roguery I expected.
No Faith, I am serious; and because I will please you both, Master Wild shall lie here, and you shall have leave to say you do, which will please you as well.
Faith, and my part is some pleasure, else, I have loved, en∣joyed, and told, is mistook.
I, but never to love, seldom enjoy, and always tell? Faugh, it stinks, and stains worse then Shoreditch durt, and wo∣men hate and dread men for't; Why, I that am a whore profess'd cannot see you, he digest it, though it be my Profit and Interest. For
to be a private whore in this Town starves in the nest like young Birds when the old one's kil'd.
Excellent Girl, 'tis too true Jolly; your tongue has kept, many a woman honest.
Faith, 'tis a truth, this I shall say, you may all better your pleasures by, if you will observe it; I dare say, the fear of telling keeps more women honest then Bridewell Hemp; And were you wise men, and true Lovers of liberty, now were the time to bring wenching to that perfection no age could ever have hoped; now you may sow such seed of pleasure, you may be prayed for here∣after; Now, in this Age of zeal and Ignorance, would I have you four, in old cloathes, and demure looks, present a Petition to both Houses, and say, you are men touched in Conscience for your share in that wicked ness which is known to their worships by the plea∣sure of Adultery, and desire it may be death, and that a Law may be pass'd to that purpose; How the women will pray for you, and at their own charges rear Statu's in memory of their Benefactors; the young and kind would then haunt your Chambers, Pray, and present you, and Court the Sanguine youth, for the sweet sin se∣cur'd by such a Law; None would lose an Occasion, nor chur∣lishly oppose kind Nature, nor refuse to listen to her summons, when youth and Passion calls for those forbidden sweets; when such security as your lives are at stake, who would fear to trust; with this Law all Oaths and Protestations are cancell'd; Letters and Bawdes would grow useless too; By instinct the Kind will find the Kind; and having one nature become of one mind; Now we lose an Age, to observe and know a mans humour, ere we dare trust him; But get this Law, then 'tis, like and enjoy; and whereas now, with expence of time and Fortune, you may glean some one Mistriss amongst your neighbours wives, you shall reap women whole Armfulls as in the Common field; there is one small Town, wise onely in this Law; and I have heard them say, that know it well, There has been but one Execution this hundred years; yet the same party searched seven years, and could not find an honest wo∣man in the Town.
An Excellent Plot, let us about it; Inke and Paper, dear Wanton, we will draw the Petition presently.
Will Master Jolly consent too? You must not then, assoon as a handsome woman is named, smile, and stroak your Beard, tell him that is next you, you have layen with her; such a lie is as dangerous as a truth, and 'twere but Justice to have thee hang'd for a sin thou never commitedst, for having defam'd so many women.
If all those Lyars were hang'd, I believe the scale would weigh down the guilty.
One Rogue hang'd, for Example, would make a thousand kind Girls: If it take it shall be called my Law, Wanton's Law; Then we may go in Pettycoats again, for women grew imperious and wore the Breeches, only to fright the poor cuckolds, & make the Fools digest their Horns—Are you all ready, shall I open the door?
Yes.
I'le expect you at my house.
Wee'l come, wee'l come.
So, knock lowder.
Who's there? what would you have?
Here's his Majesties Watch, and Master Constables Wor∣ship must come in; We have a warrant from the Lords to search for a Delinquent.
You come not here, I'le answer your warrant to morrow.
Break open the door.
I would you durst.
Lord! Dear what shall we do?
Why, sweet, I'le warrant you, art thou not my wife, my Rib, bone of my bone? I'le suffer any thing ere one hair of thee shall be touch'd.
Heark, they break open the door.
They dare not; why dost thou tremble so? alas, sweet Innocence, how it shakes?
Break open the door.
I'le complain to the Bishop of this Insolence.
They come, they come, Lamb.
No matter sweet; They dare not touch thee; what would
Read our Warrant, and our business will excuse us? do you know any such person as you find there?
Yes, Sir, but not by this name; such a woman is my wife, and no Lindabrides; we were married to day, and I'le justifie her my wife the next Court day; you have your answer, and may be gone.
We must take no notice of such Excuses now; if she be your wife, make it appear in Court, and she will be delivered unto you.
If she be my wife Sir? I have wedded her and Bedded her, what other Ceremonies would you have? Be not afraid, sweet heart.
Sir, We can do no less then Execute our Warrant; we are but Servants; And, Master Constable, I charge you in the Kings Name to do your Duty; behold the body of the Delinquent.
Touch her that dares; I'le put my Dagger in him, fear
He takes his Dagger..
Here they strive to take her out.
Help, my dearest, will you let me be hal'd thus?
Villains, what will you do? Murther, Rape.
Yes, yes, 'tis likely; I look like a Ravisher.
Hold him, and wee'le do well enough with her.
What have we here, an old woman?
Let me go, slaves and Murtherers.
Let him go.
Do any of you know this woman? this is not she we look'd for.
No? Rascal, that mistake shall not excuse you.
It is old Goodman what d'ye call him? his wife.
Hold the Candle, and let's see her face.
What have were here, Adultery? take them both, here will be new matter.
Master Constable, a little Argument will perswade you to believe I am grosly abus'd; sure this do's not look like a piece that a man would sin to enjoy, let that then move your Pity, and care of my Reputation; consider my calling, and do not bring me to a publike shame for what you're sure I am not guilty of, but by plot of some Villains.
Dear, will you disclaim me now?
Oh, Impudence!
Master Constable, do your duty; take them both away, as you will answer it.
Give him his Cassock, to cover him.
Why Gentlemen, whither will you carry me?
To the next Justice, I think it is Master Wild, he is newly come from travel, it will be a good way, Neighbours, to express our Respects to him.
No faith, Gentlemen, e'ne go the next way to Tybourn, and dispatch the business without Ceremony, for yee'll utterly dis∣grace me; this is that damn'd Captain; My wife is abroad too, I fear she is of the Plot.
Come, away with'em.
Whither will they lead us, Dear?
Oh, oh, Impudence! Gentlemen, do not lead us together I beseech you.
Come, come, lead them together, no Ceremony's; your faults are both alike.
YOu had best brag now, and use me like my Lady what'st ye call; But if you do I care not.
Come, y'are a Fool, I'le be a faithful Friend, and make good conditions for thee before thy husband be quit.
You must do it now or never.
Heark, heark, I hear them—What's the news?
We have brought a Couple of Delinquents before your Worship, they have committed a very foul fault.
And we have brought the fault along too, that your Wor∣ship may see it, you will be the better able to judge of the of∣fenders.
Ha! What do I see? my wife in Master Justices Lap?
What has the poor fellow done?
Why Madam, he has been taken a Bed with this woman, anothers mans wife.
In bed with her? and do you raise him to punish him? Master Constable, if you would afflict him, Command them to lie together again; Is not the man mad?
This is fine Roguery, I find who rules the roast.
Well, to the business; you say, he was taken in bed with another mans wife.
Yes, and't like your Worship.
Make his Mittimus to the Hole at New-gate.
Sure I have seen this Fellows face.—Friend, have I ne∣ver seen your face before?
If I mistake not, I have seen one very like your Ladyships too, she was a Captains cast-whore in the Town. I shall have a time to be reveng'd.
How now, Sirrah? are you threatning? away with him.
I'll fetch a stronger Watch, Sir, and return presently.
Do, Master Constable, and give the poor Woman some∣thing, and set her free; for I dare say 'twas his wickedness, she lookes like one that ne're thought on such a thing.
God bless your Worship, I am innocent; he never left making Love till I consented.
Oh miserable! miserable!
How now, what's the news here? my honoured Friend, and Master Parson, what makes you here at this time of night? Why I should have thought this a time to have envy'd you for your fair Brides embraces, do you give these favours? are these your Bride-laces? It's a new way.
Is it new to you?
How now Captain?
Wanton, is this your plot to endear your Husband to you?
No, 'tis thy plot, poor beaten Captain, but I shall be reveng'd.
Yes, faith, it was my plot, and I glory in't, to undermine my Machiavell, which so greedily swallowed that sweet bait that had this hook.
'Tis well.
But my anger ends not here. Remember the base language you gave me, Son of a thousand Fathers, Captain of a tame band, and one that got my living by the long staffe-speeches; for which, and thy former Treacheries, I'll ruine thee, Slave; I'll have no more Mercy on thee, then old women on blind puppies; I'll bring you to your Commendations in Latine Epistles again, nor leave thee any thing to live on, no, not Bread, but what thou earn'st by raking Gentlewomens names in Anagrams; and Master Justice, if ever you'll oblige me, stand to me now, that I may procure the whipping of him from the Reverend Bench.
I am undone.
I can do nothing but Justice, you must excuse me; I shall onely make it appear how fit it is to punish this kind of sin in that Coat in time, and to crush such serpents in the shels.
Mercy, Oh Mercy!
Officers, away with him.
No Mercy?
Yes, upon Conditions there may be some Mercy.
And these they are—let the watch stay in the t'other Roome.—First, your Wife shall have her liberty, and you yours, as she reports of you; and when you bring her with you, you shall be welcome; then you shall not be jealous, that's another point.
That he shall have a Cure for—
Yes, yes, I'll apply something to his Eyes shall cure him of his doubt.
Then you shall ask the Captain pardon and your Wife; to him you shall allow half your Parsonage to maintain her; The Deedes are ready within; if you'll sign them, and deliver your Wife to our use, she shall discharge you.
I submit, Sir, But I hope your Worship will desire no wit∣ness to the use of my Wife; The Sumner and the Watch too; I hope your Worship will enjoyn them silence.
You shall not need to fear, I'll have a Care of your Credit;
Ha! abus'd?
Nay, no flinching, if you do, I betake me to Master Sumner again.
And I become severe Master Constable in a trice.
No, no, I submit, and I hope we are all Friends; I'me sure I have the hardest part, to forgive.
And I, before all this Company, promise to forget and forgive thee, and am content to take thee again for my dear and mortal Husband, now you are tame; but you must see you do so no more, and give your self to be blind; when it is not fit for you to see; and practise to be deaf; and learn to sleep in time, and find business to call you away when Gentlemen come that would be private.
Why so, now things are as they should be; and when you will obey, you shall command: But when you would be imperi∣ous, then I betake me to my Constables Staff 'till you subscribe. Cedunt Armis Togae; and if it be false Latine, Parson, you must par∣don that too.
By this hand, I must have my Tythe-night with thee; thou art such a wag; say, when? when wilt thou give me leave? ha!
Never.
Never?
No, never.
D' ye hear, I am none of them that work for Charity; ei∣ther resolve to pay, or I kick down all my Milk again.
What would you have?
Give me leave to lie with you.
No indeed.
No?
No; but rather then quarrell, as I said before, I will give you leave to say you have lain with me.
I am of opinion she owes you nothing now, so Mistress Wanton, take your Husband; and to remove all doubts, this night I'll be at the charge of a Wed ding supper.
This is better then Newgate hole yet, Bridewell Hemp, brown bread and whip-cord.
BY my troth, is was a good Play.
And I am glad I am come home, for I am en'e as weary with this walking; For Gods sake whereabouts do's the pleasure of walking lie? I swear, I have often sought it till I was weary, and yet I could ne're find it.
What do these Halberds at your door?
Halberds, where?
There, at your Lodging.
Friend, what would those Watch-men have?
The house is shut up for the sickness this afternoon.
The sickness?
Yes forsooth, there's a Coach-man dead full of the Tokens.
Where is the Officer?
He is gone to seek the Lady of the House, and some other Company that din'd here yesterday, to bring her in, or carry her to the Pest-house.
Ha! What shall we do, Niece?
If you please to command our Lodging.
It will be too much trouble.
Let's go to Love-all's.
Not I, by my Faith; it is scarce for our Credits to let her come to us.
Why? is she naught?
Faith, Madam, her Reputation is not good.
But what shall we do then?
Dare you adventure to oblige us?
Thank you Sir, We'll go to my Nephews at Covent-Garden; he may shift among his acquaintance.
It was well thought on, the Piazza is hard by too.
We'll borrow your Coach thither, and we'll send it you back again straite.
We'll wait upon you, Madam.
This accident troubles me; I am heartily sorry for the poor Fellow.
I am sorry too; but pray, Aunt, let us not forget our selves in our grief; I am not ambitious of a Red-cross upon the door.
Mistress Pleasant is in the right; for if you stay the Offi∣cers will put you in.
We shall trouble you, Sir, for your Coach.
I Am reconcil'd; and will no longer be an uncharitable Church-man; I think this sack is a cooler.
What? do's it make you to see your errour?
Yes, and consider my man of war; nor will I again dispute his Letters of Mart, nor call them Passes for Pyrates; I am free.
And welcome, any thing but anger is sufferable, and all is jest when you laugh; and I will hug thee for abusing me with thy eyes in their scabbards; but when you rail with drawn eyes, red and naked, threatning a Levites second revenge to all that touches your Concubine, then I betake me to a dark-lanthorn, and a Con∣stables-staff, and by help of these Fathers whom I cite I prove my Text, women that are kind ought to be free.
But Captain, is it not lawful for us Shepherds to reclaim them?
A meer mistake; for sin like the Sea may be turned out, but will ne're grow less; and though you should drain this Mistress Doll, yet the Whore will find a place, and perhaps overflow some Maid, till then honest; and so you prove the author of a new sin, and the defiler of a pure Temple; therefore I say, while you live, let the Whore alone till she wears out; nor is it safe to vamp them, as you shall find, read Ball the first and the second.
No more discourse. Strike up Fidlers.
See, who's that knocks?
Sir, 'tis Mistress Pleasant, and the two Gentlemen that din'd there to day.
My Aunt, and Mistress Pleasant.
What a pox makes them abroad at this time of night?
It may be, they have been a wenching.
Sir, they were upon alighting out of the Coach when I came up.
Quickly, Mrs. Wanton, you and your husband to bed, there's the Key; Mr. Parson, you know the way to the old Cham∣ber, and to it quickly, all is friends now.
Sweet heart, we'l steal away.
The Devil on them, they have spoyld our mirth.
Jack, get you and your company down the back-way in∣to the Kitchin, and stay there till we see what this Visit means.
Means! What should it mean? it is nothing but the mis∣chievous Nature all honest Women are endu'd with, and natu∣rally given to spoyl sport: I wonder what Fart blew them hither to night.
Nay, have a little patience, Captain; you and Mr. Jolly must sit quietly a while within, till we know the cause.
It is but deferring our mirth for an hour, or so. Servant. Sir, here's my Lady.
Quickly remove those things there: Captain, step in there.—
Nephew, do you not wonder to see me here, at this time of night?
I know it is not ordinary, therefore I believe 'tis some de∣signe: what is it, Mrs. Pleasant? Shall I make one?
As I live, Sir, pure necessity; neither mirth nor kind∣ness hath begot this Visit.
What, is your Coach broke?
Faith, Nephew, the truth is, the Sickness is in my house, and my Coach-man dy'd since Dinner.
The Sickness?
I, as I live, we have been walking since the Play; and when we came home we found the Watch at the door, and the house shut up.
And a Constable gone in search of all those that dined there to day, with order to furnish us lodgings in the Pest-house.
Are you not afraid to receive us?
As I live, the accident troubles me; and I am sorry such a misfortune should beget me this favour; and I could wish my self free from the honour, if the cause were removed too.
As I live, Mr. Wild, I must have been forc'd to have lain with my servant to night, if you had not received me.
If I thought so, I would carry you out in my arms, I am so much Mr. Constant's friend.
But are you more his friend then mine, Mr. Wild?
No, but I presume by this he has gain'd so much interest as he would not be very displeasing to you.
Oh! your humble servant, Sir.
If I had had a mind to that lodging, I had ne're come hi∣ther; for when I have a mind to it, I'll marry without dispute; for I fear no body so much as a husband; and when I can conquer that doubt, I'll marry at a minutes warning.
No dispute now, can you furnish us with a couple of Beds?
Yes, yes.
And have you er'e a woman in the house?
My Sisters Maid is here.
Madam, if you resolve to do us this honour, you shall find clean linen, and your Beds quickly ready.
But where will my Nephew and you, Sir, lie to night?
Oh, Madam, we have acquaintance enough in the Town.
Well, Sir, we'l accept this courtesie; and when you come into Suffolk you shall command my house.
Prithee call Bess, and bid her bring sheets to make the Bed; I'll go and fetch in a Pallet, 'tis as good a Bed as the other, and if you will stay the removing, we'l set up a Bed-stead.
No, a Pallet, pray; but what shall we do for night cloathes, Aunt?
Why, what are those you bought my Sisters?
Is not that Linen gone yet?
No faith, Madam, his man forgot it, till the Carriers were gone last week.
Will that serve?
Yes, yes, pray do us the favour to let us have it, 'tis but washing of't again.
Nay, if it will serve, discourse no more; I'll fetch the bundle; and prithee fetch the Combs and Looking glasses I bought the other day; for other necessaries that want a name the wench shall furnish you with.
Nay, but where is she, Nephew?
I'll call her, if she be not gone to Bed; it is an ignorant young thing, I am to send her to my Sisters in the Country; I have had such ado to put her in the Fashion.
What Country is she? Prithee, Mr. Wild, let's see her.
I'll call her down.
Madam, now we see y'are safe we'l kiss your hands, and wait upon you to morrow.
It must be early then, Sir; for I shall borrow my Nephews Coach, and be gone betimes into the Country to take a little fresh Air, and prevent the search.
Pray, Madam, be pleased to command ours.
No, Sir, I humbly thank you; my Nephew's will hold our company.
Your humble servant, Mistress Pleasant.
Your servant, Madam.
Good night, Mr. Constant.
Sir, you'l excuse us, we have no body here to light you down.
Madam, I am here your servant as much as those that wear your Livery; and this house holds no other; we can be civil, Madam, as well as extravagant.
Your humble servant, Mr. Careless.
Gentlemen, if you'l wait on my Lady to her Chamber, then I'll wait upon you down.
You oblige us, Sir.
THe Plague?
The Plague; As I live, and all my relation is truth, every syllable; But, Mrs. Wanton, now must you play your master-piece; be sure to blush, and appear but simple enough, and all is well; thou wilt pass for as arrant a Chamber-maid as any is in the Parish.
Hum! new Plots?
Let me put on a Petti-coat and a Muffler, and I'll so Cham∣ber-maid it, and be so diligent with the clean Smock and the Cham∣ber-pot: now would I give all the Shooes in my Shop to lie with 'em both.
Let me alone to fit them, I can make a scurvey Curt'sie na∣turally; remember, I am an Essex woman, if they ask.
Come, come quickly, take those Sweet-meats; bring the great Cake and Knife, and Napkins, for they have not supp'd; and Captain, make some Lemonade, and send it by the Boy to my Chamber; and do you hear, Jolly, you must stay till we come, for we must lie with you to night.
We'l stay, but make haste then.
And bring our Cloaks and Swords out with you.
I will, I will; but be quiet all.
Mr. Wild, I hope there is no Plot in this.
There's no jealousie, Mr. Parson; 'tis all serious upon my life.
FAith, Aunt, 'tis the first time I have had the honour to see you in my house; and as a stranger I must salute you.
As I live, Nephew, I'me asham'd to put you to this trouble.
It is an obligation.—Mrs. Pleasant, I know you have not supp'd; I pray you be pleas'd to taste these Sweet-meats, they are of Salls doing; but I understand not Sweet-meats, the wine I'll an∣swer for; and, in a word, you are welcome: You are Patrona, and we your slaves.
Good rest, and a pleasing dream, your humble servant wishes you.
Good night, Nephew; good night, Mr. Careless.
Good night, Mr. Careless; your humble servant, Mr. Wild.
Why I, here are men have some wit; By this good night, had we lain at my servants, we should have found the lac'd Cap and Slippers that have been entail'd upon the Family these five de∣scents, advanc'd upon the Cup-boards-head instead of Plate.
They are a couple of the readiest youths too; how they run and do all things with a thought! I love him for sending his Sister, a pretty wench.
Pray, let's go to bed; I am weary.
You will not go to bed with all those windows open; sweet heart, prithee shut them, and bring me hither;—Dost understand me? As I live, 'tis a great while since I went to the Play.
It has been one of the longest days; a year of them would be an Age.
Oh, do you grow weary; you'l break your Covenant ere the year go out.
Prithee, shut the windows, and come pin up my hair.
SEE you wait diligently, and let them want nothing they call for; come shall we go? 'tis very late.
But how do's VVanton carry it?
They saluted her; and Mrs. Pleasant swore you might see the Country-simplicity in her Face.
A pox upon her, crafty Gypsie.
Why, art not thou glad to see she can be honest when she will?
I'll shew you all a Trick, for her, within these few days, or I'll miss my aim.
Come, let's go.
I have a mind to stay till Wanton comes.
Stay a little then, for 'twill not be long ere they be a Bed.
I hear VVanton's voice.
Are they a Bed?
Yes, and have so admir'd you, and Mr. Careless, and a∣bus'd the Lovers; well, Gentlemen, you are the wits of the time; but if I might counsel, well they might lye alone this night; but it should go hard if I lay not with one of them within a moneth.
Were they so taken with their lodging?
All that can be said they said, you are the friendliest men, the readi'st men, the handsom'st men that had wit; and could tell when to be civil, and when to be wild; and Mrs. (what's her
name) the Younger, asked why Mr. VVild did not go a wooing to some rich Heir; upon her conscience, she said, you would speed.
Well, well, there's a time for all things; come let's go.
Take a light.—Good night, VVanton.
D'ye hear, d'ye hear; let me speak with you.
What's the business?
I cannot get hence this night: but your good angels hang at my heels; and if I can prevail, you shall stay.
What to do?
What to do? why I'll be hang'd if all this Company do not guess.
Prithee, what should we stay for?
For the widow, and her Neice; are they worth the watch∣ing for a night?
Yes, certainly.
Then take my counsel, and let me give it out y'are mar∣ried, you have new cloaths come home this morning, and ther's that you spoke of I'll fetch from the Taylors, and here's a Parson shall rather give them his living, then stay for a License; the Fid∣lers too are ready to salute 'em.
But if they refuse?
Which, upon my conscience, they will.
As you hope, else you are laugh'd at for missing the wi∣dow: Ned, follow my counsel, appear at her Chamber window in thy Shirt, and salute all that passes by; let me alone to give it out, and invite Company and provide dinner; then when the business is known, and I have presented all your friends at Court with Rib∣bands, she must consent, or her honour is lost, if you have but the grace to swear it, and keep your own counsel.
By this hand, he has reason; and I'll undertake the widow.
It will incense them, and precipitate the business which is in a fair way now; and if they have wit, they must hate us for such a treachery.
If they have wit they will love you; beside, if it come to that, we two will swear we saw you married, and the Parson shall be sworn he did it:—Priest, will you not swear?
Yes, any thing; what is't, Captain?
If this jest could do it, yet 'tis base to gain a wife so poor∣ly; she came hither too for sanctuary; it would be an uncivil and an unhospitable thing, and look as if I had not merit enough to get a wife without stealing her from her self; then, 'tis in mine own house.
The better; nay, now I think on't, why came she hither? how do you know the Plague is there? all was well at dinner; I'll be hang'd if it be not a Plot; the Lovers too whom you abus'd at dinner, are joyn'd with them; a trick, a meer trick of wit to abuse us; and to morrow when the Birds are flewn, they'l laugh at you, and say, Two Country Ladies put themselves naked into the hands of three travel'd City-wits, and they durst not lay hold on them.
A pox upon these Niceties.
If they have not some design upon you hang me, why did they talk so freely before me else?
Let's but try, we are not now to begin to make the world talk; nor is it a new thing to them to hear we are mad fellows.
If you get them, are they worth having?
Having? yes.
If you miss them the Jest is good; Prithee, Ned, let me prevail, 'tis but a mad trick.
If we would, how shall we get into the Chamber?
Let me alone for that; I'le put on my country simplicity, and carry in a Chamber pot; then under Pretence of bolting the back door I'le open it, and yet I grudge them the sport so honest∣ly; for you wenchers make the best husbands; after you are once married, one never see's you.
I warrant thee wench.
No faith, I have observ'd it, they are still the doting'st husbands, and then retreat and become Justices of the Peace, and none so violent upon the Bench, as they, against us poor sinners; yet I'le do it, for upon my Conscience the young Gentlewoman will fall upon her back, and thank me.
Away, go then, and leave your fooling, and in the Morn∣ing, Ned, get in, and plead naked with your hands in the bed.
And if they cry, put your lips in their mouths, and stop them.
Why look you, you have the Authority of the Church too.
Well, I am now resolv'd; go you about your part, and make the Report strong.
And d'ye here? be sure you set the Cook at work, that if we miss we may have a good Dinner, and good wine, to drink down our grief.
Miss? I warrant thee thrive.
Nay, if I knock not down the VVidow, geld me, and come out to morrow compleat Uncle, and salute the Compa∣ny, with, you are well-come Gentlemen, and good morrow Nephew Ned.
Uncle Tom, good morrow, Uncle Tom.
All's done, the door is open, and they're as still as Childrens thoughts; 'tis time you made you ready, which is, to put off your breeches, for 'tis almost day; and take my Councel, be sure to offer force enough, the less reason will serve; Especially you, Master VVild, do not put a may'd to the pain of saying, I.
I warrant thee, wench; let me alone.
Wee'll in, and undress us, and come again; for we must go in at the back door.
I'le meet you, is the Captain gone?
Yes, yes, hee's gone.
Come Master Parson, let us see the Cook in Readiness, where are the Fidlers? what will become of our Plot? for the
Coach-man; Master Sadd and his friend will stink of their jest if this thrive.
They have slept all night, on purpose, to play all day.
When the Ribbands and Poynts come from the Exchange, pray see the Fidlers have some, the Rogues will play so out of tune all day else, they will spoil the dancing if the plot do take.
Let's see them in the Chamber first, and then I shall go with some heart about the business; so, so, creep close and quietly; you know the way, the widow lies in the high bed, and the Pallet is next the door.
Must we creep?
They kneel at the door to go in.
She shakes her Coats over 'em.
Yes, Yes, down upon your knees, always, till you get a woman, and then stand up for the Cause; stay let me shake my smock over you for luck sake.
Why so, I warrant you thrive.
A pox take you, I'll pare your nails when I get you from this place once.
Sweet heart, sweet heart, off with your shooe.
I, with all my heart, there's an old shooe after you; would I gave all in my shop the rest were furnish'd with wives too.
Parson, the Sun is rising, go send in the Fidlers, and set the Cook on work, let him chap soundly.
I have a tythe Pig at home, I'll e'ne sacrifice it to the Wedding.
They will find them in good Posture, they may take Privy marks if they please; for they said it was so hot they could endure no cloathes, and my simplicity was so diligent to lay them naked, and with such 'twists and turns fastned them to the feet, I'll answer for't, they finde not the way into them in an hour.
Why then they may pull up their Smocks, and hide their faces?
Master Jolly, there was one without would speak with you.
Who was it?
It is the Lady that talks so well.
They say indeed she has an Excellent Tongue, I would she had chang'd it for a face; 'tis she that has been handsome.
Who? not the Poetess we met at Master Sadds?
Yes, the same.
Sure shee's mad.
Prithee tell her I am gone to bed.
I have done as well Sir; I told her Mistris Wanton was here, at which discreetly, being touch'd with the guilt of her Face, she threw out a Curse or two and retreated.
Who is this you speak of, I will know who 'tis.
Why 'tis she that married the Genoway Merchant; they conzen'd one another.
Who? Pegg Driver, Bewgle Eyes?
The same, the same.
Why she is ugly now?
Yes, but I have known her, by this hand, as fine a wench as ever sinn'd in Town or Suburbs; when I knew her first, she was the Original of all the wayn-Scote Chambermaids, with Brooms, and barefoot Madams, you see sold at Temple-Bar, and the Exchange.
Ah! th'art a Divel; how could'st thou find in thy heart to abuse her so? Thou lov'st Antiquities too; The very memory that she had been handsome should have pleaded something.
Was handsome signifies nothing to me.
But shee's a wit, and a wench of an Excellent Discourse.
And as good company as any's i'th Town.
Company? for whom? Leather-Ears, his Majesty of New∣gate watch? There her story will do well, while they louse them∣selves.
Well, you are curious now, but the time was, when you have skipp'd for a kiss.
Prithee, Parson, no more of wit, and was handsome, but
Indeed 'tis time she sat out, and gave others leave to play; for a Reveren'd whore is an unseemly sight; besides it makes the sin malicious, which is but venial else.
Sure, hee'le make a case of Conscience on't; you should do well (sweet heart) to recommend her Case to your Brethren that attend the Committee of Affection, that they may order her to be sound and young again, for the good of the Commonwealth.